#and then they get four relationships with members of the town that you see frequently as you wander around

[kayzero]

in the spaces between not working on zwg and not finishing brother’s burden, i’ve been, uh…

thinking about something new.

[tiniedemon]

— ♡

hometown

poly kenny mccormick & kyle broflovski

— ♡

being stan’s twin had its perks, very occasionally. as his younger sibling, you got the protection of him. as shelly’s, you were bullied relentlessly. it didn’t help that your father, randy, was a loose cannon. not to mention the neglectful nature of your mother, sharon, who cared more about your siblings than about you.

as the (minutes younger) baby of the family, you were spoiled with material items, but never love. a new laptop every year, every gaming console as soon as it came out, every new game preordered. it just wasn’t the same as the bond your mother shared with your siblings, her true babies.

stan was your closest family member, which was a bit sad considering you had three others. many a night you spent in his room, the two of you venting about your shared distaste for your father. it truly felt like having a true friend for the first time in your life. you’d always struggled with making those in south park, a town full of angry kids, and having a built in best friend made things a lot easier.

you’d grown up playing with and hanging out with stan’s friends, especially kyle and kenny. the four of you shared a disdain for the other member of your friend group, eric. he was a pompous prick with little to no regard for anyone else’s feelings. his self-centered asshole mentality had carried into his teenage years, and into adulthood. he’d been disowned by your brother’s friends once they’d hit junior year of high school, which was a major relief for you.

you mulled over all of these things within the confines of your room, eyes on the ceiling, repeated sighs leaving your lips. your thoughts lingered on kenny and kyle, your only two friends in this world and, sadly, your crushes.

it was hard being friends with them in a way. they were dating, a long brewing relationship that developed over the course of sixteen years before they’d finally decided to get together. you were incredibly saddened by it, but it wasn’t like you couldn’t see them ever again.

they frequently joined in on yours and stan’s outings, but it was absolute torture for you. kenny was consistent in his pda with his boyfriend, and despite how much kyle protested it, he always wore a smile and gave in. you longed every day to be on the receiving end of kenny’s incessant kissing and hand holding, and kyle’s charming smiles and poetic flirting.

you’d been in this loop of self destruction for months. it was taking a toll on your mental health. you were tired constantly from nights spent staring at your ceiling, overthinking the entire situation about your two best friends.

you sighed, dragging yourself from your bed, and padded off to stan’s room. he was also still awake, phone screen lighting his face as he laid on his side. he looked up at you, scooted to the side, and tapped the empty space next to him. you crawled into bed with your brother, pulling the blankets to your chin as you shivered.

“you always keep your room so fucking cold,” you grumbled, holding your hand over your nose to trap the heat in. he sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting up to grab an extra blanket from the end of his bed and tossing it to you.

“and you complain too much. shut the fuck up,” he sighed, then laid back down and faced you. you adjusted the blanket over your body, then finally looked back at him with a huff.

“i don’t know what to do about kenny and kyle,” you admitted, a blush on your cheeks and a frown on your lips. stan raised his eyebrow, a sign for you to continue speaking. “i want to be with them, both of them, which i know is sort of shitty of me. i just love them, y’know? and it’s hard because they’re both so focused on each other that they don’t pay me any mind at all. am i shitty for this?”

“not at all,” stan responded, readjusting your head to lay on his arm instead of his mattress. “you don’t choose who you love. you just so happened to get fucked with having feelings for two people instead of one. that’s not your fault.”

you sighed, using one of your hands to adjust the stray hairs defying the part of his hair. he smiled at you, patting your cheek.

“i’m just not sure what exactly i’m supposed to do. i can’t just go for people in a relationship, y’know? i’d be so shitty for that. i just don’t know what to do.”

stan was silent for a moment, his eyes untrained and staring at the space behind your head. you worried your lip between your teeth as you waited to a response, pulling the blankets further up your body.

“i say you start flirting back,” he spoke finally. “they were flirting with you for ages before they got into a relationship with each other. maybe you could try flirting with them for a change?”

you froze, eyes growing big. they’d been flirting with you? you hadn’t noticed. now you felt like a huge idiot. stan wouldn’t lie about something like that. you really were so oblivious that you hadn’t noticed they were flirting with you.

“we’re all hanging out tomorrow. you should join us, maybe throw some hints their way. if it doesn’t work out, that’s completely fine, too. just know you don’t need them to be happy, okay? you’ve always got me, for life.”

—

you took stan’s advice, and boy did you regret it. it was mid winter in the colorado mountains, and you were freezing your ass off. you were clad in a thick jacket and one of stan’s fleece hats, and even that wasn’t enough to block out the frigid winds as the two of you waited for the couple to show.

“i hate you for this,” you grumbled, both your hands in the pockets of your brother’s jacket. he rolled his eyes and flicked your forehead, then adjusted the hat on your head to better cover your ears.

“it’s not my fault you get cold easily. stop complaining,” he muttered. you could hear kenny and kyle’s voices approaching, your eyes darting around to spot them. they approached behind your brother, hand in hand, smiles on their faces as they bickered playfully. you looked at your brother with wide eyes, panicking internally.

“i don’t think i can do this,” you whispered, stan offering a half smile as he rubbed your arms for friction heat.

“you’ve got this, y/n,” he whispered in response. you nodded hesitantly, shooting the approaching couple a glance over stan’s shoulder.

“i’ve got this,” you murmured to yourself as reassurance. you took a deep breath, opened your mouth, and shouted, “nice face, broflovski!”

the couple halted in their steps, and your heart dropped into your feet. you could visualize it laying between your feet, along with the bricks you’d just shat on the pavement.

then kenny’s face pulled into a crooked grin, and kyle smirked a tad as he tugged kenny towards you, kenny dragging his feet as they crossed the distance between the two groups.

“nice ass, marsh," kenny spoke as the couple finally approached. your face turned red, only amplified as kyle grabbed a handful of your brother's ass. stan's face matched yours as he swatted kyle's hand away, a scowl on his face.

"i fully agree, ken. stan's got some cake on him," kyle chuckled out, shooting a wink towards you. kenny scoffed and tossed an arm over his boyfriend's shoulder, smirking at you.

"i was talking about y/n here, but now that i'm looking at it, i think you might be right, ky," kenny drawled, landing a smack on your brother's ass.

"i wish the two of you would stop grabbing my ass," stan grumbled. you chuckled as you linked arms with your brother, gesturing to the coffee shop the three of you were stood before.

"can we please go in?" you begged, bending your knees and forcing a shiver for emphasis. "i really need a hot mocha before my entire body turns into a lump of frostbite."

"y/n, i love you, but you are literally the single most dramatic bitch i know," stan grumbled, but complied with your request. you shot a grin over your shoulder to the couple behind you as the four of you entered tweak bros. coffee, the duo offering equally large smiles of their own.

the coffee date was relatively uneventful otherwise. kyle would occasionally wink at you, and kenny had grabbed your hand over the table a handful of times, but it was otherwise sort of boring. stan had, unfortunately, spilled an iced americano in his lap, and the hangout had been wrapped up two hours after it had started.

"alright, guys. i've gotta get butterfingers here home before i start bullying him for shitting his pants through his dick. i'll see you guys later," you sighed as the four of you once again stood outside the coffee shop. kyle cast a glance to kenny, who pulled you into a tight hug for a few moments.

"kenny and i aren't doing anything later. how about the two of you come over for movie night tonight?" kyle asked, a hopeful gleam in his eyes. you glanced at your brother, who was already shaking his head while he struggled to cover the brown stan on his crotch with his jacket. your heart sunk along with the corners of your lips, your hands finding their way into your jacket pockets.

"probably not tonight. stan's got a pretty big conference call later," you uttered in response, shifting your weight between your legs. stan look at you with confusion written all over his face, nudging you towards the couple in front of you with his elbow.

"so you go without me, dumbass. i have a call, not you. go have fun with tweedle bitch and tweedle cunt," he responded. you flushed, a frown on your face as you pulled your brother to the side. you could hear kyle and kenny grumbling about their nicknames from a few feet away.

"i'm not going to their apartment by myself, dumbfuck," you hissed in a whisper, eyes narrowed. "what if i have to, like, shit or something? that would be embarrassing as fuck."

"how is that embarrassing?" stan deadpanned, his face blank as he stared at your nervous, fidgeting form.

"i could clog their toilet and then have to fish out my own shit with my hands. or i could not make it to the toilet and accidentally spray shit on their walls. anything could fucking happen, stan" you whisper yelled. stan rolled his eyes and bent down, hoisting you up into his arms and turning around, your disgruntled form held bridal style in his arms. he passed you off to a surprised kenny, who struggled to hold you for a second before gaining his footing and his purchase on you.

"take this stupid bitch home with you or i'm going to beat her ass the second she steps foot in our apartment," your brother deadpanned, then turned on his heel and walked towards your shared home.

"you're just going to leave me, stanley!" you shouted, stan flipping you the bird over his shoulder.

"sure am, bitch! don't care where you go, just don't come home until my call is over!" he called back to you. you huffed, rolling your eyes. then you made eye contact with kenny, then kyle, and your face turned red as you sulked.

"you can set me down, kenny," you muttered, a squeak passing through your lips as he turned and began walking towards kyle's car. "seriously, kenny, you can set me down."

"i don't think he's going to," kyle mused as he unlocked his car with his key fob. you glanced at him with a shy smile, and then up at kenny with the same smile. the blonde grinned at you as he placed you in a sitting position on the hood of the suv, patting your thighs with both hands as you settled.

"thanks, ken. i can't believe stan just left me like that. what if you guys decided to traffic me or something? he wouldn't have his twin there to keep him awake at night. instead he'd get to sleep at a decent time and i just can't let that happen," you rambled as kyle and kenny worked together to tidy up the clutter in their back seat.

"y/n, honey, you've known us since diapers. i highly doubt we'd traffic you," kyle hummed as he came to stand between your legs. you flushed, crossing your arms over your chest as you avoided his gaze. you were shivering so violently your teeth were chattering, your jacket once again doing almost nothing to shield you from the cold winter air.

"i'm just saying the chances are never zero. my dad could and would traffic me if he could get free crack as payment and i came directly from his ballsack. if you wanted to, you would," you protested, rubbing your arms with your bare hands in an attempt to bring some warmth back to your body. kyle took notice, his calculating green eyes missing nothing, and slowly removed his gloves as you spoke. they dropped into your lap, his hands capturing yours and sliding them over your shaking fingers.

"sweetheart, i'm sure we could score the best crack for you, but it just won't happen," kenny mused, approaching on your side and leaning against the door of the suv as he looked at you with a humored smile. "i think kyle would be absolutely devastated if i traded you for crack instead of stephen king's full collection."

you guffawed, looking between kyle and kenny, mouth dropped open and eyes wide. kenny was obviously holding back laughter while kyle glared at him, annoyance clearly displayed on his sharp features.

"kenny, if you don't shut the fuck up, i will cut your mullet off in your sleep," kyle spat. you scoffed and held up your hands, feigning offence. you were holding back laughter as well, a small chuckle escaping your lips.

"i can't believe this. i'm calling the fucking tooth fairy. next time you lose a tooth in a bar fight, you can count on the tooth fairy leaving a pile of shit under your pillow instead of a dollar," you threatened kenny, sliding your way off the hood of the suv. kyle burst out into laughter alongside kenny, the blonde following behind you to open the car door for you. you relished in the remnants of the heat in the vehicle, clasping your hands in your lap to keep them warm. kenny stood between your legs, taking kyle's spot, and you rolled your eyes with a humored grin.

"i'm sorry, sugar," he chuckled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. you were left a blushing, stuttering mess as he crept away and shut your door behind him. kyle shot you a smug look from the driver seat, taking in the flustered expression on your face.

"i think you broke her," the ginger uttered to the blonde as he slid into the passenger seat. kenny shrugged, winking a blue eye at you from the front seats.

you were incapacitated.

—

long story short, kyle was a great driver, and kenny was a horrible passenger princess. kyle was very calm for the entire forty-five-minute drive back to their house, his driving smooth and road rage minimal. meanwhile, kenny was going absolutely feral in the passenger seat. he played the absolute most random songs, some lame techno beats with little to no words, and hung his head out the window almost the entire drive.

you were incredibly thankful to see the couple's apartment building appear in the distance, entirely overwhelmed by kenny's chaotic passenger activities. by the time the three of you had made it to their home, kenny's hair was tousled and frizzy from the cool wind whipping through it. kyle simple smiled at his lover and pulled him into a soft kiss. your heart clenched at the sight, jealousy burning in your stomach.

"oh, sorry, y/n. you want one too?" kenny inquired with a cocky grin. your face burned as you pulled the best disgusted expression you could, eyes jumping between his and the back of his seat.

"fix your face first. you look like you got hit by the ugly train," you grumbled, watching his smile grow through your repetitive glances towards his face.

"you know you love my face, marsh," he cooed. kyle exited the vehicle amidst your banter with kenny and you were quick to follow, jogging to catch up. kenny caught you by the wrist, scooping you up in his grasp, and carried you the rest of the way to the door. you yelped, eyes big and face red, body jumping with each bound to the house's entrance.

"kenny, i do wish you'd stop frightening our guest," kyle called, amusement clear in his voice. over kenny's shoulder, you could see him bending to pick up the hat kenny had knocked off your head in his hasty actions.

"nice ass, broflovski!" you called over his shoulder, a mischievous smile on your face. he jumped and turned to look at you, face red and grinning.

"nice rack sweetheart," kenny whispered in your ear, once again reminding you of the position you were stuck in, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. you were rendered speechless for the second time that day, brain short-circuiting as kenny carried you into their home. kyle closed the door behind the three of you, tossing your hat on the back of the couch. you were quick to follow, kenny hovering you over the back and dropping you haphazardly on top of the cushions. his body fell over the side, his body toppling on top of yours, head burying itself in the cushions next to your head.

"kenny! you give me such a fucking migraine. please get off y/n! she's fucking fragile!" kyle scolded, swatting at the back of kenny's head with a scowl. you giggled, albeit a bit nervously, gazing up at kyle around kenny's mop of blonde hair. kyle was red in the face, averting his eyes from yours, circling the sofa to take his seat next to your feet. with both hands, he lifted both yours and kenny's legs, scooting over and laying them in his lap.

"hey pretty thing," kenny cooed as he finally lifted his head from the suffocation of the couch. his grin was dopey as he gazed at you, eyes droopy and hair messily covering half of his face. "come here often?"

"please stop seducing our guest," kyle deadpanned, swatting at kenny's foot. kenny hissed and threw his legs off the side of the couch, letting half his body slide onto the floor, his head buried in your torso. you sat up, gingerly pushing kenny's head off you, pulling your legs from kyle's lap in favor of pulling them to your chest. he looked away from the television long enough to pointedly glance at you, then turned his attention back to it and used the hand that wasn't controlling the remote to pull them back onto his lap. you blushed, only increased by kenny scooting his way between you and kyle, your legs now crossing both their laps. kyle used his free hand to pry your shoes from your feet, eyes still glued to the screen.

"y/n, what kind of movie do you wanna watch?" kyle inquired, turning his head to look at you over his lover. you shrugged, arms around your torso, blush on your face.

"i don't really know. i’m not really one for movies lately. i’m too busy watching shameless,” you admitted sheepishly. kenny’s head perked up and turned to you, a grin on his face.

“what season?” he asked eagerly. you made quick work of finding your phone, hands shaking as you opened netflix and checked your progress.

“season six, episode three,” you responded. kenny turned to kyle, who opened netflix and selected the correct season and episode of shameless. he paused it as soon as it loaded, making eye contact with kenny. you were squirming. they seemed to be making conversation telepathically, eyes locked on each other, silence piercing your ears.

"which one of us are you in love with?" kyle finally asked, voice soft as he leaned forward to stare into your soul. your squirming intensified, kenny rubbing your calve reassuringly as he gazed at you. you felt like a deer caught in headlights, heart pumping in your ears, hands shaking in your lap, face pale, eyes wide.

"we're not asking out of a place of spite, love," kenny reassured. you could hardly hear him over the sound of your own pulse, your mouth going dry as tears flooded your eyes. you'd never felt so anxious before in your life. this was everything you wanted, laid out in front of you, and you were terrified.

"i-" was all you managed to get out, unable to speak around the lump in your throat and the cotton in your mouth.

"sweetheart," kyle sighed, leaning far forward to reach his arm over kenny and grasp on of your hands. kenny did the rest of the work, tugging you into a side hug as you panicked. you weren't sure exactly what your issue was. you wanted them to be interested in you. you wanted their attention. you wanted this. why the hell were you having a panic attack over something you'd been praying for since puberty?

eventually, after a handful of minutes, you were able to calm down enough to hear the murmured reassurane of the couple holding you. you could pull your head back and you could look at them, an embarrassed smile on your face as you whispered your apology.

"why should you be sorry, love? we caught you off guard," kenny hushed. kyle nodded along in agreement, a soft smile on his face as his fingertips caressed your cheek.

"you don't have to apologize for anything, sweetheart. we genuinely didn't think you'd react like that. that's completely our fault," he whispered, ginger curls falling into his face. you ran your fingertips over his forehead to adjust them, then let them trail down the side of his face. he flushed under your touch, cheeks turning a rosy pink under a small smattering of sun exposure freckles.

"if we're being honest, we've had feelings for you for quite some time, probably a decade. we were trying to figure out if you were interested in one of both of us," kenny admitted. you blushed, eyes jumping between kenny's red face and kyle's. for a second, you wondered if you were in a dream. you discreetly pinched your leg, wincing as your heart raced. it definitely wasn't a dream.

"both," you whispered. you were still incredibly nervous to admit your feelings, but with the confession on kenny's part, you felt a bit more confident in your feelings. kenny was the first to embrace you, your face buried in his boney chest, kyle's lanky arms wrapping around the both of you.

"we don't have to immediately figure shit out," kyle murmured after a few moments of your silent embrace. you nodded slowly, unraveling your fingers from the back of kenny's shirt.

"i'd rather watch shameless right now, if i'm being honest," you murmured, a sheepish smile on your face. "my mind has been fucked way too much for one day." kyle chuckled along, pressing play on the tv. kenny started unzipping your outdoor coat with a small grin.

"i mean, we could always fuck you in other ways," he joked with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows. you guffawed, face turning red as kyle whacked his chest.

"kenny, please, shut the actual fuck up!" he exclaimed, face equally as red as yours. kenny burst into laughter as he continued helping you out of your coat, draping it on the back of the sofa.

"sorry, sorry," he chortled. you settled into the couch, a small smile on your face as you focused your attention on the dysfunctional screen family.

—

taglist @hand-writxen @quackyfae @n0tangeliccc @triphovia @vanillawh0re @scrawny-simp @oldcabinets @mags138 @zeroquiverx

[astrognossienne]

tragic beauty: lupe vélez - an analysis

“I had to play with boys, girls found me too rough.” -  Lupe Vélez  

This is an analysis I’ve wanted to cover for a while for quite a few reasons. Primarily because, in a few ways, I see myself in her and, as such, feel the need to defend her and assert her true legacy: as a pioneer. Which brings me to the main reason I wanted to do this: to correct the scurrilous rumours about her premature death cooked up by a hating ass imbecilic Aquarius whose infamous book doesn’t deserve to be named. So if you want to hear the truth about this lady, read on.

Known as the “Mexican Spitfire”, Latin bombshell Lupe Vélez was (an to an extent, still is) a much-maligned and terribly misunderstood woman. A true Cancer, she was a force of nature and unconsciously antagonized others and made them uncomfortable because of her authenticity to herself and her emotional nature. Born during a storm, she had a naturally stormy personality. She could be hilarious and charismatic one moment, and depressive and vicious the next. Instead of anyone trying to understand her, they just stuck her with the “spicy fiery Latina” stereotype, not knowing or caring what was behind it. The harshness of her life before stardom may explain some of her fearsome, yet fun, personality; she grew up with violent trauma – watching her father kill and almost be killed during the Mexican Revolution. She also is believed to have had undiagnosed bipolar disorder, which would explain her extreme moodiness and outbursts.

One of the first Latina actresses to make an impact in Hollywood, she was subjected to the racist, sexist Hollywood tropes that forever typecasted her—she was called “senorita cyclone,” and the “hot tamale”. The Hollywood press willfully misunderstood Vélez’s sex positivity and consistently portrayed her as a woman who took great pleasure in her body, and indeed, the tempestuous Vélez had numerous affairs, including a particularly torrid one with a young Gary Cooper, and a tumultuous marriage to “Tarzan” star Johnny Weissmuller. But in 1944, at age 36, she found herself pregnant with the child of a little known-actor name Harald Ramond, who would not marry her and this reality made her come undone, and like my other baby Carole Landis, she succumbed to an drug overdose. Her promiscuity, right or wrong, became part of the way her stardom was packaged and promoted. Also, the press naturally compared her to (and pitted her against) Hollywood’s only other female Mexican star—the “high-class” and elegant Dolores Del Rio. The press couldn’t even find sympathy for her even in death and a false story was printed that she drowned in the toilet after vomiting up a spicy Mexican dinner. Her death is parodied and mocked to this day. Again, she’s a true Cancer in the sense that the same imperfections that everyone else has, she is seen as less than human for having them. I hope to help right that wrong by honoring Vélez for being the trailblazer that she is. At any rate, Vélez would seem to be a prototype for contemporary female stars, from Madonna to Rihanna, who have proclaimed their pleasure in their body and their sexual liberation — a pro-sex activist before her time, doomed to suffer the rejection of a more puritanical age.

Lupe Vélez, according to astrotheme, was a Cancer sun and Leo moon. She was born María Guadalupe Villalobos Vélez in San Luis Potosí, Mexico, to young upper-middle class parents. Her father, Jacobo Villalobos Reyes, was a colonel in the military, and her mother, Josefina Vélez, was an opera singer. They also had another son, John and daughter, Annette. The Villalobos family were considered prominent in San Luis Potosí and most of the male family members were college educated. The family was also financially comfortable and lived in a large home with servants. As a young girl Lupe showed an interest in performing, but her father was outraged at his daughter’s “low-class” dreams, and forbade his daughter from being in show business. All that changed during the war. Her family was in a state of upheaval—the Mexican Revolution was happening, her father had been presumed dead in the war and all their money was gone. While most of her family members were too proud to get jobs, a teenage Vélez did just that, supporting the family by working as a saleswoman in a department store. She then finagled an audition with a local theater. However, her father was indded alive and well and soon returned home from the war. Because at that time becoming an artist and coming from a well-to-do family was seen as embarrassing, her father refused to let her use his last name in theater, so she used her mother’s surname.

She proceeded to seek out venues where she could dance the then-popular “shimmy.” In 1925 she was cast in the big stage revues Mexican Rataplan and !No lo tapes! and became a big audience favourite. Her name got around to American stage star Richard Bennett (father of American film stars Constance and Joan Bennett), who was looking for a Mexican cantina singer for his new play. Lupe traveled to Hollywood but was rejected for the part for being too young. While in Hollywood, Lupe met film and stage comedienne Fanny Brice, who took a liking to Lupe because of her sparkling personality. She put in a good word for Lupe to impresario Florenz Ziegfeld (creator of the Ziegfeld’s Follies), who could use Lupe in one of his Broadway musicals. However, MGM producer Harry Rapf heard of Lupe as well, and offered her a screen test. When producer Hal Roach saw the test, he immediately signed her to a contract. Vélez soon made her major film debut in Douglas Fairbanks’ action-romance The Gaucho in 1927. The film was a huge hit and Vélez was an overnight sensation.

Along with her professional life gaining steam, so did her love life. Vélez sought out some of Hollywood’s hottest men, which wasn’t hard for a hot and sexy number like Lupe; men flocked to her like bees to honey. She was romantically linked with Gary Cooper, Charlie Chaplin, Clark Gable, cowboy Tom Mix, “Tarzan” actor Johnny Weissmuller, Errol Flynn, John Gilbert, Henry Wilcoxon, singer Russ Columbo, Randolph Scott, author Erich Maria Remarque (who wrote All Quiet On The Western Front and later married Paulette Goddard), Clayton “Lone Ranger” Moore, director Victor Fleming (director of Gone With The Wind), and boxers Jack Johnson and Jack Dempsey.

One of her first conquests was cowboy star Tom Mix. She also had an with newcomer Clark Gable, who cut off their romance because he was afraid Lupe would run all over town discussing their sexual secrets, which she did. Soon she had a torrid affair with comic genius Charlie Chaplin in 1928. Lupe revitalized Chaplin’s libido after he had gone through a torturous divorce from his wife. Whatever time she had for the many men in her life, that same appreciation didn’t extend to other women and she would frequently battle with the other females with whom she had to work with and would often threaten them; when she was starring in director D.W. Griffith’s Lady of the Pavements, she had to co-star with an actress named Jedda Goudall, whom she hated, and the two had a ferocious cat-fight on the set. When she made her final appearance on Broadway in the Cole Porter musical “You Never Know”, Vélez and fellow cast member Libby Holman feuded viciously. The feud came to a head during a performance where Vélez punched Holman in between curtain calls and gave her a black eye, which pretty much ended the run of the show. Vélez was territorial about the men in her life, she was vicious toward any woman who might be competition for her man or an acting role. She mocked Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo, Katharine Hepburn and Shirley Temple, and her arch nemesis Dolores Del Dio by doing imitations of them.

When she was cast in the film The Wolf Song in 1929, she met Gary Cooper and immediately started what would be her first widely publicized romance. Theirs was a one-sidedly volatile relationship; he would often appear in public with scratches and bruises. One time, she attacked him with a knife during a fight. He needed stitches. By the end of their time as a couple, Copper had lost 45 pounds and was physically exhausted.  He was ordered by the studio to take a vacation. As he boarded a train, Vélez shot at Cooper but missed. Lupe soon moved on to other men; she had a thing for fighters. In addition to having a brief fling with boxer Jack Dempsey, she conducted a flagrant, but secret, affair with the black boxer Jack Johnson. In those days, blacks and whites almost never conducted sexual affairs out in the open. She met Olympic swimming champion Johnny Weissmuller at the hotel where she was staying that was owned by film star Marion Davies. One problem: Weissmuller was already married. But no matter, he dumped his wife for Lupe and married her October 8, 1933 in Las Vegas. Theirs was not a happy, serene marriage, and they constantly battled, with Lupe filing for divorce several times in 1934 and changing her mind each time. Weissmuller’s patience was so strained he dumped a plate of salad on her head at Ciro’s nightclub. Finally, in 1938 she filed a petition that was finalized in 1939.

After having many hit pictures with MGM, they unceremoniously dropped her. The excuse was that the studios were no longer going to make Spanish versions of their films and there was no longer a need for Latin actresses. Vélez returned to Mexico in 1938 to star in her first Spanish-language film. Arriving in Mexico City, she was greeted by 10,000 fans. The film La Zandunga, was a critical and financial success and Vélez was slated to appear in four more Mexican films, but instead, she returned to Los Angeles. She soon went to RKO Studios and starred in the B-movie The Girl From Mexico. Despite its lowly status, the picture became a tremendous hit with audiences. RKO rushed her into another film, this time called Mexican Spitfire, playing an emotionally volatile singer named Carmelita. The 1940 film became another smash for Lupe. The Spitfire series of eight slapstick comedy films rejuvenated Lupe’s sagging career.  In late 1941, she had an affair with writer Erich Maria Remarque whose wife, actress Luise Rainer later wrote that Remarque told her “with the greatest of glee” that he found Vélez’s volatility hot.

At this same time Lupe took on another lover in the form of a French 27-year-old bit actor named Harald Ramond. He was a strong and controlling man who knew how to tame Lupe. After she discovered that she was three months pregnant, she announced her engagement to Ramond without his knowledge or consent. When he learned of her pregnancy, he refused to marry her. Deeply hurt and stunned, she felt backed into a corner; she knew her career would be ruined in Hollywood if word got out she was pregnant and unmarried. It just wasn’t done in those days. And despite her wildness, Lupe was a devout Catholic, so abortion was out of the question. She could see only one way out: suicide. On December 18, 1944, at the age of 36, Vélez swallowed 70 Seconal pills, she lay down on her pink satin pillow on her over-sized Hollywood bed and arranged herself like a movie star, with her hands folded across her chest and went into an eternal sleep. Dramatic to the end, Lupe went out of this world in glamorous style. She left a suicide note addressed to Harald, which read:

“To Harald, May God forgive you and forgive me too, but I prefer to take my life away and our baby’s before I bring him with shame or killing him. How could you, Harald, fake such a great love for me and our baby when all the time you didn’t want us?  I see no other way out for me so goodbye and good luck to you, Love Lupe.”

THAT is the truth. But the bottom line is: how she lived her life as well as the circumstances around her death are all irrelevant at the end of the day. What matters is the loss of a great multi-talented, pioneering Mexican star and a legacy unrealized and stunted by a world that wasn’t ready for her.

Next, I’ll talk about the most famous of her paramours, the yin to her yang, a perfect example of the special chemistry that Taureans and Cancers share, the strong, silent hero of the silver screen: Taurus Gary Cooper.

Stats

birthdate: July 18, 1908

major planets:

Sun: Cancer

Moon: Leo

Rising: Gemini

Mercury: Cancer

Venus: Leo

Mars: Pisces

Midheaven: Pisces

Jupiter: Virgo

Saturn: Aries

Uranus: Capricorn

Neptune: Cancer

Pluto: Gemini

Overall personality snapshot: She may have seemed at times to be a shy, vulnerable, romantic individual who only wanted to please, but underneath she had a voracious appetite for adoration and respect, and would not stop until she got it. Without a doubt, she had a very warm feeling for others, and domestic security with plenty of happy togetherness is high on her list of priorities. When it came to cooperation with others, however, she had her limits because she was profoundly individualistic and, albeit in a charming manner, she insisted on doing things her way. Ultimately the most important thing for her was believing in herself and being true to her standards and aspirations. Most of all, she needed to fulfill her creative potential, which was like an intimate companion with whom she shared her life. You nurture it, protect it, and then you show it off, and whatever walk of life you are in, you tend to be a fine performer.

This gave her a lot of self-respect and a touch of vanity as well, and her emotional sensitivity combined with her underlying imperiousness tended to impress others and made them take her seriously. She was a devoted member of her flock, and she zealously and jealously protected and promoted whomever she was devoted to. When it came to developing her own talents, however, she seemed to know that she had to pull away in order to grow into her greatest self. Others may have thought she was a bit of a show-off but that was not the case: she simply had a deep sense of the importance of her own creative talents, and she felt only half alive if she did not honour them. Although she was pretty sensitive to criticism or rebuffs, she was just as committed to honesty and personal integrity; and despite her vanity, she eventually learned to laugh at herself.

She had a very good memory and found it easy to learn subjects that interested her. She was very kind and thoughtful towards others. Her imagination was very keen, but if it got carried away, she may have experienced irrational fears. Even though she may have tried to maintain a scientific and objective outlook, her mind was actually dominated by her emotions. When it came to careers, she may have felt initially vague or confused about what she really wanted to do. She was eventually forced to give up her career of choice by events out of her control (as was evidenced by the tides turning from the “Mexican spitfire” female ideal due to the changing of the times). There was probably some element of self-sacrifice involved somewhere in her choice of career (the element of sacrifice being that she had to sacrifice her child, and ultimately her life, in relation to her reputation as an unwed mother as well as her unborn child’s reputation as an illegitimate child). She had good technical and scientific ability due to her, at times almost fanatical, attention to detail. She was also fastidious when it came to matters of health, diet and appearance. She was not afraid of work and was very resourceful and capable. She also worked well in a team. She became very annoyed if somebody else questioned the way that she operated. Her energy levels were somewhat inhibited, her self-confidence reduced, and her ambitions restricted through fear of failure. Times of strength and weakness alternated within her. Even though her decision-making ability could be ineffectual through over-caution, she often seemed to be placed in situations where a quick decision was needed. When she succeeded, it was mainly through her own efforts. She also showed a tendency towards wanting to start at the top, wanting to avoid the hard work that gets you there.

She belonged to a generation with a rational and logical attitude to life. There was a conflict between tradition and convention, and the experimental and unconventional. As an individual, she had to learn to strike a balance between the erratic and the conventional. As a member of this generation, she had the ability to come up with original ideas which could be of practical value. She was part of a very artistically talented and creative generation that wanted to escape from the demands of the world around them into a world of excitement and glamour. She was part of an emotionally sensitive generation that was extremely conscious of the domestic environment and the atmosphere surrounding her home place and home country. In fact, she could be quite nostalgic about her homeland, religion and traditions, often seeing them in a romantic light. She felt a degree of escapism from everyday reality, and was very sensitive to the moods of those around her. Bow embodied all of these Cancer Neptunian ideals. As a Gemini Plutonian, she was mentally restless and willing to examine and change old doctrines, ideas and ways of thinking. As a member of this generation, she showed an enormous amount of mental vitality, originality and perception. Traditional customs and taboos were examined and rejected for newer and more original ways of doing things. As opportunities with education expanded, she questioned more and learned more. As a member of this generation, having more than one occupation at a time would not have been unusual to her.

Love/sex life: It wasn’t easy to be passionate and emotionally explosive and also hold on to her dignity, but this was what she wanted to accomplish. She tried to conceal the pulsating softness of her sexual nature behind a façade of control and bluster. She thought that her display of strength and jolly self-confidence would hide her vulnerability and her susceptibility to virtually any sexual diversion. Of course, no one was really buying this cover up. They saw the luscious edges of her erotic hunger peeking through her disguise. That’s why they were all so anxious to be around her. The biggest problem in her sex life was how to deal with change. She loved it and she hated it. She loved following the lead of her feelings and surrendering herself to the moment. Too much consistency, even loving consistency, was apt to leave her bored and dissatisfied. But she also saw change as a threat to her sense of control and to the emotional security that she valued so highly. Because of this duality in her thinking, her reaction to changes in her sex life was abrupt, contradictory, and (horror of horrors) a little undignified.

minor asteroids and points:

North Node: Gemini

Lilith: Libra

Vertex: Scorpio

Fortune: Gemini

East Point: Gemini

Her North Node in Gemini dictated that she needed to prevent her idealism from influencing her thoughts to such a high degree. She needed to consciously develop a more clear-minded and analytical approach involving her thought processes. Her Lilith in Libra was definitely working overtime here. Relationships somehow caused her to err, and her partner choices caused much suffering.   She expressed herself through others. As a lover, she was aggressive, yet co-dependent. As a mistress, she was not above trying to cause a divorce, which she did with Johnny Weissmuller and she ultimately became fatally despondent when she found herself pregnant with a bit actor's baby. She used her good looks as a weapon to help her get ahead in the movie industry. Also, Lilith in Libra strangely enough, manifested itself as a sort of lighter female Capricorn archetype, and she pulled herself up by the bootstraps in a rather glamorous way, going to work after her father left the family unit. As such, she exhibited graceful gumption right until the very end. Her Vertex in Scorpio, 5th house dictated that she had a desire or continual need for feeling irresistible and irreplaceable on all levels of intimacy, whether spiritual, intellectual, emotional, or physical. From the fires of hell to the heights of heaven, the  further and deeper the range of interaction she could experience with another the more fulfilling. She had a childlike orientation, in all of its manifestations, toward relationships on an internal level. That implicit trust, or perhaps naivete, that was instilled in our  childhood persisted far into maturity. The concomitant explosions and  occasional tantrums when these constructs are violated also accompany  this position. She had a need for fun, creativity, and excitement in a  committed relationship, no matter how many years it has endured. She often had deep fears, typical of children, of abandonment, as well as a need for universal acceptance, no matter how she acted, which she needed her partner to respect and nurture, rather than rebuke, especially in adulthood. Her Part of Fortune in Gemini and Part of Spirit in Sagittarius dictated that her destiny lay in travel, education and communication. She was able to overcome enemies by her words and by her writing. Happiness and fulfillment came from being able to express herself fully. Her soul’s purpose lay in seeking truth, justice and fairness. She felt spiritual connections and saw the spark of the divine when she studied, broadened her mind through new philosophies, or looked for inspiration outside the home. East Point in Gemini dictated that she was often insatiably curious and loved to collect little bits of (what seemed to be useless) information and trivia. Her interests were quite varied, and she may have been somewhat scattered. Sometimes her curiosity could appear cold and callous as her level of objectivity was potentially high. There was usually an openness to learning in any situation.      

elemental dominance:

water

fire

She had high sensitivity and elevation through feelings. Her heart and  her emotions were her driving forces, and she couldn’t do anything on earth if she didn’t feel a strong effective charge. She  needed to love in order to understand, and to feel in order to take action, which caused a certain vulnerability which she should (and often did) fight against. She was dynamic and passionate, with strong leadership ability. She generated enormous warmth and vibrancy. She was exciting to be around, because she was genuinely enthusiastic and usually friendly. However, she could either be harnessed into helpful energy or flame up and cause destruction. Ultimately, she chose the latter. Confident and opinionated, she was fond of declarative statements such as “I will do  this” or “It’s this way.” When out of control—usually because she was  bored, or hadn’t been acknowledged—she was bossy, demanding, and even tyrannical. But at her best, her confidence and vision inspired others  to conquer new territory in the world, in society, and in themselves.    

modality dominance:

mutable

She wasn’t particularly interested in spearheading new ventures or dealing with the day-to-day challenges of organization and management. She excelled at performing tasks and producing outcomes. She was flexible and liked to finish things. Was also likely undependable, lacking in initiative, and disorganized. Had an itchy restlessness and an unwillingness to buckle down to the task at hand. Probably had a chronic inability to commit—to a job, a relationship, or even to a set of values.                    

house dominants:

2nd

3rd

1st

The material side of life  including money and finances, income and expenditure, and worldly goods was emphasized in her life. Also the areas of innate resources, such as her self-worth, feelings and emotions were paramount in her life. What she considered her personal security and what she desired was also paramount. Short journeys, traveling within her own country were themes  throughout her life; her immediate environment, and relationships with her siblings, neighbours and friends were of importance. The way her mental processes operated, as well as the manner and style in which she communicated was emphasized in her life. As such, much was revealed about her schooling and childhood and adolescence. Her personality, disposition and temperament is highlighted in her life. The manner in which she expressed herself and the way she approached other people is also highlighted. The way she approached new situations and circumstances contributed to show how she set about her life’s goals. The general state of her health is also shown, as well as her early childhood experiences defining the rest of her life.  

planet dominants:

Neptune

Mercury

Sun

She was of a contemplative nature, particularly receptive to ambiances, places, and people. She gladly cultivated the art of letting go, and allowed the natural unfolding of events to construct her world. She followed her inspirations, for better or for worse. She was intellectual, mentally quick, and had excellent verbal acuity. She dealt in terms of logic and reasoning. It was likely that she was left-brained. She was restless, craved movement, newness, and the bright hope of undiscovered terrains. She had vitality and creativity, as well as a strong ego and was authoritarian and powerful. She likely had strong leadership qualities, she definitely knew who she was, and she had tremendous will. She met challenges and believed in expanding her life.

sign dominants:

Cancer

Gemini

Leo

At first meeting, she seemed enigmatic, elusive. She needed roots, a place or even a state of mind that she could call  her own. She needed a safe harbor, a refuge in which to retreat for solitude. She was generally gentle and kind, unless she was hurt. Then she could become vindictive and sharp-spoken. She was affectionate, passionate, and even possessive at times. She was intuitive and was  perhaps even psychic. Experience flowed through her emotionally. She was often moody and always changeable; her interests and social circles shifted constantly. She was emotion distilled into its purest form. She ventured out to see what else was there and seized upon new ideas that expanded her community. Her innate curiosity kept her on the move. She used her rational, intellectual mind to explore and understand her personal world. She needed to answer the single burning question in her mind: why? This applied to most facets of her life, from the personal to the impersonal. This need to know sent her off to foreign countries, where her need to explore other cultures and traditions ranked high. She was changeable and often moody. This meant that she was often at odds with herself—the mind demanding one thing, the heart demanding the opposite. To someone else, this internal conflict often manifested as two very different people. She loved being the center of attention and often surrounded herself with admirers. She had an innate dramatic sense, and life was definitely her stage. Her flamboyance and personal magnetism extended to every facet of her life. She wanted to succeed and make an impact in every situation. She was, at her best, optimistic, honorable, loyal, and ambitious.      

Read more about her under the cut.

Lupe Velez was born on July 18, 1908, in San Luis Potosi, Mexico, as Maria Guadalupe Villalobos Velez. She was sent to Texas at the age of 13 to live in a convent. She later admitted that she wasn't much of a student because she was so rambunctious. She had planned to become a champion roller skater, but that would change. Life was hard for her family, and Lupe returned to Mexico to help them out financially. She worked as a salesgirl for a department store for the princely sum of $4 a week. Every week she would turn most of her salary over to her mother, but she kept a little for herself so she could take dancing lessons. With her mature shape and grand personality, she thought she could make a try at show business, which she figured was a lot more glamorous than dancing or working as a salesclerk. In 1924 Lupe started her show business career on the Mexican stage and wowed audiences with her natural beauty and talent. By 1927 she had emigrated to Hollywood, where she was discovered by Hal Roach, who cast her in a comedy with Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy. Douglas Fairbanks then cast her in his feature film The Gaucho (1927) with himself and wife Mary Pickford. Lupe played dramatic roles for five years before she switched to comedy. In 1933 she played the lead role of Pepper in Hot Pepper (1933). This film showcased her comedic talents and helped her to show the world her vital personality. She was delightful. In 1934 Lupe appeared in three fine comedies: Strictly Dynamite (1934), Palooka (1934) and Laughing Boy (1934). By now her popularity was such that a series of "Mexican Spitfire" films were written around her. She portrayed Carmelita Lindsay in Mexican Spitfire (1940), Mexican Spitfire Out West (1940), The Mexican Spitfire's Baby (1941) and Mexican Spitfire's Blessed Event (1943), among others. Audiences loved her in these madcap adventures, but it seemed at times that she was better known for her stormy love affairs. She married one of her lovers, Johnny Weissmuller, but the marriage only lasted five years and was filled with battles. Lupe certainly did live up to her nickname. She had a failed romance with Gary Cooper, who never wanted to wed her. By 1943 her career was waning. She went to Mexico in the hopes of jump-starting her career. She gained her best reviews yet in the Mexican version of Naná (1944). Bolstered by the success of that movie, Lupe returned to the US, where she starred in her final film as Pepita Zorita, Ladies' Day (1943). There were to be no others. On December 13, 1944, tired of yet another failed romance, with a part-time actor named Harald Maresch, and pregnant with his child, Lupe committed suicide with an overdose of Seconal. She was only 36 years old. (x)

[kotosnoozy]

「fourteen」 chapter 1

"Yuri did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed. I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” Hanks says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.” “O-oh?” Estelle stammers. “Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”

On the nature of Yuri's first crush.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first.

Hanks’s fond babbling about Yuri over their extremely well-earned dinner is incredibly revealing about the usually cool-headed leader of their motley crew. The old man proves himself a riveting story-teller, keeping their entire party entertained for hours on end despite the incredibly long and taxing 48 sleepless hours they’ve had.

(‘Though there was almost a permanent sleep in there for some of us,’ Raven finds himself thinking morbidly, before digging his bitten-down nails as deep into his ankles as he can to distract himself)

It feels like the only time any of them stop smiling and laughing is to take another mouthful from their bowls of curry, piled high from the seemingly endless and eternal pots of the stuff in the knight’s mess hall (or in Rita’s case, to test out another formula against the system Alexei’s locked the princess into - luckless so far, but she’s yet to lose determination).

Hanks has provided all sorts of anecdotes: the adventures of a baby Yuri who had just learned to walk, quicker to his feet than Flynn but still only babbling in response to the younger’s full fledged scolding - their dynamic had formed incredibly early on, it seemed; fond recollections of helping him to learn to bind properly, their first real bonding experience that had endeared them to each other as adoptive-grandfather-and-grandson; prideful recounts of Yuri’s development from childhood cynophobia into a renowned dog-lover, of all the other little things Yuri had been scared of as a child and grown out of in time (and those he hadn’t - Raven makes a few mental notes for later reference); all the fights Yuri and Flynn had gotten into over the years, and the brief interlude where they had dated in their teens (‘If anything,’ he laughs, ‘the bickering became even more frequent at that point - thank heavens they didn’t last!’); and of course, everyone’s old favourite - that one time 2 years ago when he’d thrown Adecor into the river on tax day.

Raven’s heard that one on a number of occasions from all four of the people who’d been present when it occurred - it somehow never gets any less funny.

While most of Brave Vesperia and it's honorary members are thrilled to learn more about their favourite rebel, Yuri himself is less than happy about Hanks laying out his life story for everyone to see. It's plain on his face - the grimace of a man who appreciates how much his parents love him but would really prefer they didn't tell his date about the time he streaked naked through the town and peed in a fountain at 5 years old. His embarrassment is palpable, a pink glow to his ears that slowly spreads to his cheeks the longer and more intimate Hanks’ stories become.

It’s as he brings up Yuri’s childhood dream of joining the knights so he could sweep a princess off her feet, pointedly winking in Estelle’s direction, that their so-called fearless leader bolts to his feet. He spins on his heel, making a beeline to the other side of the room, and plonks himself violently between a bewildered Adecor and Boccos, immediately thrown from their confusion into annoyance as Yuri’s food slops all over both of them.

His previous dining companions merely snicker in his wake, Hanks chuckling fondly.

“He’s always been so easily riled, that boy. If this is how flustered he gets over just you lot hearing all this then I can’t even imagine how he’ll be when he finally shacks up with someone.’

“Wait, but didn’t you say he dated Flynn when they were younger?” Karol asks, head cocking to one side.

“Well between you, me and our gatepost friends here,” the old man says, leaning in - they all follow suit, as Hanks’ eyes pointedly glance over to Flynn, “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings if he hasn’t realised, but I always got the impression that Yuri was far less invested in their relationship than Flynn. It was Flynn who asked him out, after all.”

“My, that does surprise me. Yuri’s always seemed like he’d be the more proactive of the two when it comes to romance.” Judy muses.

Hanks raises his eyebrows, thin lips twisting into an uneasy frown.

“Wait a minute,” Rita says, leaning even further forward. “You’re not saying Yuri never had feelings for him are you?”

He winces, gaze averting. Raven feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“They’ve always loved each other, of course. But the tone of that love seems to differ between them. Their relationship was what happened when they tried to figure that out, it seems, but ultimately…”

“They just weren’t compatible as partners of that type?”

“Right.” he nods to Estelle. “In all honesty, Yuri might give off the air of someone with considerable relationship experience, but it’s Flynn who attracts more attention. And seems more interested in others in turn.”

Raven finds his gaze wandering between the two in question - Flynn has managed to find himself eating amidst a small crowd, knights and lower quarter folks alike, all of them doting on him and telling him stories, and him listening attentively to each of them in turn. Yuri, meanwhile is… wrestling with all three of the ex-Schwann Brigade’s most prominent knights simultaneously. Astounding.

“Yeah that tracks.” he finds himself murmuring, nails scratching through the chest hair that rises above the collar of his shirt. Even if Flynn wasn’t the most eager to please others between the two, the young man radiates a natural charm that draws others to him like a moth to a flame - it’s hard to forget how he was upstaged the time he took him drinking in Dahngrest. Yuri, meanwhile, has a proclivity for trouble and a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth with his wit. While endearing, he can’t imagine it’s the most efficient for pursuing new connections - even if he’s managed to attract all of the motley crew Raven’s currently sat with.

“So Flynn’s a secret ladies’ man and Yuri, despite all the pomp and swagger, has absolutely no game?” Rita snickers, casting a wry look across the room at Yuri that he’s too distracted to notice.

“Well I don’t know about that. Flynn’s a man’s man if nothing else, never shown interest in women to my knowledge. But… I don’t think Yuri’s ever actually been interested in dating , full stop.”

“No way, really?!” Karol barks. The exclamation draws the attention of the groups sat closest to them, even Flynn, momentarily, before they go busily back to their meals. Flynn’s expression as he looks at them is pondering, almost puppy-like, and Karol’s panic is practically visible as they watch him seemingly wrestle with whether to come over and see what the fuss is about. Then the woman at his side taps a hand to his elbow gently, and his manners win out - she successfully steals his attention back around, all of his interest in their discussion completely forgotten.

“Well. It certainly seems that way anyway. I remember him asking me, back when they dated, how he would know if his feelings for someone were romantic. He didn’t seem to understand my answer very well."

“That’s unexpected. I suppose my advances have all been vain!” Patty whines. Raven finds himself snickering - whether Patty’s affections are genuine or not is one mystery he's yet to solve, but her playing it up is never any less entertaining or fun to tease.

“Though now that I think about it… he did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed.”

Patty surges forward onto her hands and knees, scrambling to get in Hanks’ face. Surprisingly, he’s not that caught off guard - perhaps used to it from Yuri’s exuberance as a child, or that other kid from the lower quarter who’s off chasing Repede on the far side of the room.

“I need all the details, matey! Don’t spare a single one!”

Hanks chuckles.

“I’m very sorry young lady, but he didn’t tell me all that much! I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.”

“O-oh?” Estelle stammers.

“Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”

“My my! That’s quite the considerable age gap.” Judy coos, tone teasing in spite of Yuri’s absence. She turns over to look at him, sitting atop a pile of knights and triumphantly tucking into a second of four bowls (spoils of war, Raven would wager) - they all do, in fact.

“Kid’s got taste at least. Nothin’ quite like the mature allure of an older lady~'' Raven sing-songs, half-joking. Rita jabs him in the side harshly.

“Shut up old man-- you said you thought it was Estelle he had a crush on right? So are you saying this is recent? ”

It’s like a switch flips in all of their heads simultaneously. Faces filled with shock whip to look at Hanks, who sits sheepishly clutching his bowl.

“Whoops. Might’ve let a little too much information slip on that one. I was probably meant to keep that detail private…”

“Oh my go--”

Rita slaps a hand over Karol’s mouth before his shriek draws too many eyes over. They all meet each other's' gaze one by one - Yuri's crushing on someone for the first time ever at this exact moment - before turning to look back at Yuri again. He’s mid-mouthful, spoon clutched in his hand like a shovel and sauce dripping down his chin, as he turns to survey his surroundings and catches their eyes.

“What?” he chokes out around his mouthful, just audible over the bustle of the rest of the room. He must see the sheer shock on their faces, as concern starts to cross his face and his gaze wanders to Hanks. “Wait, what did you tell them, old man?”

Hanks chooses that exact moment to get up, incredibly swiftly for a man his age.

“Well, thank you all for keeping me company, kids, but I must be off to… check on other people in… other parts of the castle. Right. Goodbye.”

The speed at which he heads for the door is quite remarkable - Yuri barely manages to scramble off his knight-pile-cum-throne before he’s gone from sight, and presumably halfway down the corridor before Yuri makes it out of the room after him.

It’s a shock, that much is certain. Raven hadn’t thought Yuri would be interested in older women - or people he supposes, he’s never really shown any inclination to anyone before in a romantic sense, so certainly not any specific gender. He’d never much struck him as the type.

But then he hadn’t struck him as the type to be interested in any type of relationship until this curveball of a conversation had come along. So hey, why not. If Yuri was into older people, he certainly wasn’t intending to torment him about it. Other than maybe one opportunely timed quip.

Honestly, he really hadn’t thought much about it at first.

But then the kids throw their own curveball.

“I can’t believe Yuri likes someone so much older than him!! Like, I guess I get the appeal of someone a little older than you for like… security or something, I dunno. But man, 14 years!!” Karol exclaims, as quietly as he can for his excitement. “I wonder if we know who it is.”

Rita barks a laugh, catching a distracted Patty off-guard. She begins anew whatever calculations she’d been making on her fingers as Rita shrugs exaggeratedly.

“I bet it’s some big-boobed motherly-figure in the lower quarter or something.”

“Well if all he wanted was big boobs and a nurturing personality then I’ve been here this whole time, all he had to do was ask!” Judith sighs, sly smirk giving away her lack of sincerity.

“Hey,” Patty pipes up suddenly, drawing their attention. “Isn’t Raven about 14 years older than Yuri?”

He feels the cogs in his brain whirr to a stop.

Suddenly, he is thinking very much about it.

“Oh yeah!” he hears Karol chirp. No doubt he checks the calculations on his own fingers, but Raven doesn’t register it if so, hard as he’s trying just to think at all. “Haha, that’s a weird coincidence!”

Estelle giggles.

“Imagine if it was Raven he had a thing for!”

He feels their eyes on him instantly, but it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. His own eyes must be wide as saucers, as they look at him, the mirth starting to fall from Estelle’s expression - he forces a ridiculous grin to his face.

“Haha, yeah imagine that! Someone like Yuri fallin’ for a washed up old fart like me!” he cackles, voice strained even to his own ears. “That’d be ridiculous!!”

The kids buy it though, Karol laughing along before pulling the others back into their debate about exactly who the mystery object of Yuri’s affections could be. It’s Estelle whose gaze lingers on him, just a moment or two longer, as the facade starts to crack, but she must see it - the silent plea in his eyes - as she turns back to the others not a moment later.

If anyone notices that Raven is mentally tapped out until they all go their separate ways for the night, then they’re at least polite enough not to mention it.

⇷-------------

Raven is a strange one.

This is Yuri’s third time meeting the man (or fourth, if the time Rita threatened to set him alight in Capua Torim counts as an actual encounter) and in all honesty, it’s hard to get a read on him past him being very obviously shady.

He seems as though he might be someone of consequence, if the quality of information he so casually throws like bones to random guards is actually as quality as he would have them believe. Either way he’s certainly silver-tongued, plying the others in Yuri’s makeshift travelling party into submission fairly easily despite their initial apprehension about him. Karol and Estelle are charmed by him, by his goofy antics if not the lolloping drawl of his accent, though they make no effort to hide the fact that they find him fishy. While Rita is far less taken, she seems to be placated by him taking her punishments, both fire and fists, like a champ.

The charm isn’t exactly visible to the naked eye though. He skulks at the back of the group, heavy footed and posture slouched. His clothes all seem far too big for him, obscuring the shape of his body in a way Yuri supposes is meant to make him seem unassuming, and he’s already displayed a number of habits that he knows would make any upper quarter noble’s toes curl - picking at his ears and the skin around his nails, before chewing at the nails themselves.

He has to admit though, he’s quite handsome in the face beneath the mess of dusty brown hair. Not in the same way as Flynn, with his big blue eyes and tousled blonde hair, the very picture of a storybook knight. His crooked nose, chapped lips, stubbly chin and hollow cheeks certainly make for a more unconventional type of attractive, but they all come together to create a certain appeal. The brightness of his eyes certainly helps too.

Also the combat prowess. Fighting ability is always an attractive quality in Yuri’s opinion, but especially in a travelling companion.

For a self-professed old man, Raven’s far more nimble than Yuri had expected. Sure, he’d made quite the getaway back in Capua Nor after he’d sold them out, but he’d assumed that’d been a one-off desperate sprint, not the norm. Apparently he was wrong, based on the nimble footwork he employs to dart out of the way of a particularly feisty howler. It doesn’t escape his notice how Karol nearly falls flat on his ass when Raven rushes past him and twists himself at an insane angle to fire an arrow across the way, skewering a beetle between its mandibles before it can take a bite out of Estelle.

“Woah, Raven!! Yuri, you’ve got some serious competition for your acrobatics now!!”

The bark of laughter leaves his throat unwittingly.

“I didn’t realise there even was a competition!”

He sees Rita roll her eyes as she releases a torrent of water behind her, clearly disbelieving him and with good reason; he’s never been one to back down from a potential competition. He breaks away from the corner of the forest floor he’s been holding down, using the momentum to propel himself up and over Raven, carrying it into his sword as he flips to crash it down into the skull of another monster. Raven whistles appreciatively as it disappears into dust.

“Not bad, young ‘un!”

He throws a smirk over his shoulder, ego swelling at the genuine awe on Raven’s face.

“How’s about it, old man? First to twenty?”

The awe transforms into a grimace in an instant.

“Ahhh, I dunno about that. Ol’ Raven’s never really been one for competitions, let alone effort. ”

He scoffs.

“Oh, come on. We’ve got no choice but to fight to get deeper into the forest anyway, right? So why not make a game of it? Not like it’ll actually be any more effort than you were already putting in.”

Raven purses his lips, seemingly unconvinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he stares off, deep in thought, the blue-green seemingly increasing in intensity. For all he’s been putting on the act of a court jester, Yuri is certain in that moment that there’s a deep intelligence to the older man; something unspoken, a wisdom beyond his years.

(Not that he knows how old Raven is but. Well, he gets the feeling that while he’s certainly older than he and his travelling companions, he’s not actually pushing middle-aged yet like he makes out)

Fwip!

He comes back to himself to see Raven’s face closer than before, upside down, chin in line with his collarbone. His bow arm (and subsequently the bow itself) is extended past his shoulder, the other loose by his head having just fired. Behind him there’s a thunk. A screech. A pop. And then silence.

“Looks like that’s one ta me~” Raven coos, eyes hooded as he smirks. He rolls his back, lithe and catlike, to stand himself back upright, stretching his arms out until his shoulders crack. For all his complaining about aches and pains so far (extremely numerous for the time they’ve been travelling with him, maybe an hour at most), he certainly doesn’t move as though he has any joint issues.

Despite his shock, he finds himself laughing.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s just as charmed by Raven as the kids are. He’s never made a connection quite like this one; with someone who can go toe to toe with his dry wit, and make it out the other side without being angry with him. Rita had been the closest (since Niren at least, but Yuri prefers to avoid thinking about the only father he ever knew if he can). But while Rita’s great with a back and forth, she’s easily riled, easily flustered. It only takes one slightly wrong jab and she gets stroppy, or else loses all interest in the situation.

Raven, for all his strangeness, has so far matched Yuri every step of the way. They’ve fallen so easily into a steady banter, something of their own personal comedy routine for just the two of them, some form of it present even from their first encounter way back in that jail cell. To have someone who can appreciate his snark, and give it back just as good while they both know it’s all in good fun? He’d never realised just how much he’d appreciate a relationship like that.

So yeah, Raven’s a little suspicious. But as far as Yuri’s concerned, he’s willing to offer him the benefit of the doubt for the strange comfort he gets from their repartee, just so long as he doesn’t do anything too crazy.

He slaps Raven on the shoulder, moving past him to continue deeper into the oversized brush.

“You got me, old man. But don’t you worry, you won’t be holding that lead for long.”

Raven merely cackles in response, wordlessly filing in behind him.

-------------⇸

There’s only one real constant within their travelling party, and that’s that the sleeping arrangements are ever-changing.

It takes a little while for him to notice, though in his defence the first week or so he’s with them is certainly not a typical week. In the more recent days, they’d gotten lucky with inns having enough beds for all of them, but the first few nights had been entirely sleepless in the hustle and bustle of, y’know, stopping a war, taking down the Blood Alliance and colliding with an actual genuine-article ghost ship.

(He’s still not sure what that was all about if he’s being entirely honest, but he’s old and ““wise”” enough by now that he knows there are some things in this world that you simply shouldn’t question)

So it’s Nordopolica where he finds himself bedding down with his new companions for the first time. The constant hustle and bustle of Palestralle’s workers and the fresh colosseum season unfortunately means there isn’t much free in terms of rooms. On the plus side, the three double beds they’re provided are plenty enough space for them all to be able to sleep comfortably; Fomalhaut’s rooms are quite spacious, nothing at all like the army barracks of his youth (though he supposes that should be expected from a city that considers itself something of an entertainment hub).

Raven takes his time ambling in behind everyone else, absently watching how effortlessly Repede transfers his pipe from one side of his toothy maw to the other. Rushing would be pointless, in his opinion, because he can already envision how everyone will double-up. Rita is sure to claim a spot beside the princess, for whose sake she could not be more clearly continuing to travel for despite her protests, and Judy won’t want to get lumped with a snotty (though admittedly quite sweet) brat or some dirty old man she hardly knows - he’s gonna get stuck with the kid, and the two of them can have a very one-sided competition over whose shitty little brain can give them the most nightmares in one night, and Raven will be perfectly content with that, thank you very much.

(It’ll be him who wins that one - hormone-induced nightmares are nothing compared to the horrors your brain can produce when you have blood and a war on your hands)

And then Karol throws him for a loop by tossing his bag semi-gently to the floor before diving into bed after Rita , of all people.

She hardly even makes a fuss. There’s a yelp - what sounds like it could be the start of the protest Raven would expect from such a combination - before she settles almost immediately.

“Just make sure you don’t kick me awake again, got it?” she barks pointedly at him, before rolling to face away from him and promptly cocooning herself in the blanket. He laughs at her, kicking off his shoes and fluffing up his pillow, seemingly content.

Wide-eyed, Raven turns to the girls - surely he can’t be the only one caught off-guard by this, it seems unthinkable for Rita not to put up a fight to sharing with Karol , and there’s an exclamation of surprise right on the tip of his tongue - only to find them claiming the second bed for themselves, Judy helping Estelle to unfasten the complicated buckles of her dress. He bites his words back, head whipping away; much as the image of a pervert works as a brilliant cover to convince the kids of his idiocy, peeping on the possible-crown princess as she gets changed is certainly not a thing he’s ever aspired to.

And so he comes face to face with the final bed. His bed he supposes, strange as it may still be to him. Yuri’s already making himself comfy on the left side, shirt and jacket thrown over the bottom edge of the bed frame. He stretches his arms up and over his head, muscles rippling as he yawns. He catches Raven’s eye as they fall back down, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.

“Looks like it’s you and me, old man.” he says, patting the sheets next to him with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

He can feel his own lips quirk to mirror Yuri’s, even as he fights to push down the instinctive panic.

“And here I was hopin’ ta share with my darlin’ Judy!” he whines playfully, flopping down beside him face first in a show of dramatism.

“Sorry, Raven. I just couldn’t miss the chance to cuddle up with Estelle!” comes her voice, sing-songy, from the bed she’s claimed. He can see, as he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees to get better situated, that she’s doing exactly that. She’s practically spooning the princess, face buried in short pink locks, and Estelle herself looks the very picture of a tomato (not that he wouldn’t himself with Judith’s considerable… assets pressed against him).

“Well so long as yer not a cuddler yerself, Mr Lowell.” he jokes, rearranging himself onto his back before pulling the duvet up to his chin. For all that they’re in less than ideal circumstances with sharing beds, he’s glad to see Palestralle don’t skimp on the furnishings for their inns - the linen is incredibly soft, smooth against the pads of his fingers, and it’s a smart fabric choice for an inn in so changeable a climate.

Yuri huffs a laugh.

“I think I can hold myself back this once, just for you.” he says, tone laden with sarcasm. He watches Raven with keen eyes as he lounges on his side, head resting in his hand. Raven wonders how he can sleep like that - how his arm doesn’t cramp in the night, doesn’t wake him up in a fit of panic when he can’t move it, breathing shallow until the blood flow returns. He forgets, sometimes, that not everyone enters a blind panic over the little things.

“Why, I'm honoured! Yer benevolence knows no bounds!" he coos back, nose scrunching in amusement. Yuri smiles as he reaches back and pats Repede where he stands by the bed - a silent request to turn off the overhead light. The pooch complies, trotting off with a clack of his pipe between his teeth - Raven’s constantly caught off guard by the dog’s intelligence, the number of strange things Yuri’s managed to teach him (or perhaps that the dog has taught himself? He’s still not fully certain how much of a hand in training him that the young man’s had), and this is certainly another for the list.

“Damn right it doesn’t. Better make sure you show me the respect I deserve.” he says. He meets his eyes again as the blastia clicks off, dousing them in darkness. They crinkle with mirth, the abyss within softening even more as Karol giggles at their antics on the other side of the room.

They find themselves in a staring contest, of sorts. Or maybe closer to a game of chicken? He’s sure Yuri sees it that way at least, if his unblinking gaze is anything to go by. For him on the other hand it’s… something else. What exactly he can’t say. He’s just... transfixed .

Because Yuri’s plenty handsome on his own - perhaps even beautiful, if that’s more your thing. Raven’s already seen him turn a great many heads in the short time they’ve been together, including both the illustrious head of Fortune’s Market and the great forgotten war hero himself. Maybe he’d even let himself cast an admiring glance his way, if he hadn’t picked specifically womaniser for Raven’s bullshit cover-up trait.

But when the sea-breeze blows gently, kicking up the curtains, and the moonlight shines into the room, it catches him just so. The glow is ethereal, transformative, and it brings out the hidden flecks of golden brown in the depths of Yuri’s eyes, spins the silk of his dark hair almost chestnut. And just for a moment, he can trick himself into believing she’s here, the Canary herself, laid opposite him with a fond teasing smile, and oh god the hole where his heart used to be aches to reach out and touch her--

But for all her perfections, Casey’s eyes had never glowed quite like that had they? Never stared directly into his soul, made him almost want to bury into her arms and let her shoulder his every burden for him. Her kindness had inspired, but never been so bottomless that he wanted to abuse it, had never come off her in waves to the point it was visible in every little line of her face despite any grandstanding. Never so gentle to the broken that he could almost convince himself that he doesn’t need to run, that if he’s seen he’ll be accepted wholly, flaws and sins and all.

Not like Yuri. Not at all like Yuri.

The curtain drops, or else the clouds must roll in overhead. Either way, the moonlight vanishes, and with it goes the last vestiges of the illusion.

“Aye-aye, sir.” he all but murmurs, his voice tighter than just moments ago. He hopes, as Yuri’s face twists in concern, that his own face doesn’t give away the turmoil of his heart.

“You alright, old man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Hah, maybe I have!” he laughs, but it sounds notably hollow even to him. Still, he doesn’t break eye-contact as Yuri seems to peer directly into him, seemingly scanning his every thought and feeling, hope and dream.

The last thing he sees as he slips into sleep is the gentle embrace of the abyss. While his dreams are plagued by nightmares, a broken body bleeding out in the sand, he finds it’s the best night’s sleep he’s had in years.

-------------⇸

The town is silent, other than the gentle rustle of the sea breeze through the trees and the crunch of the dirt path beneath his feet.

They’ve been here all day, but Yuri’s not sure he’s used to how incredibly peaceful Yormgen is yet. He’s not sure he ever will be, either. He’s used to the bustle of the city, the shouting of vendors and newsies in Zaphias’s main market as carts laden with goods and people roll by. It feels like there’s always a dog barking, a clock chiming, a baby crying in the city, and the background noise helps him to switch his brain off in a way that the country never can.

Halure had been quiet to him - the calm atmosphere of the day, the slowness of shop transactions and conversation, had already been a lot, but for there to be a perfect stillness as night fell rather than an increase in bustle as drinkers started to take to the town had been the real whiplash. Despite a relatively large population, the town didn’t have a single dedicated bar to its name, and it’d thrown Yuri for far more of a loop than he’d ever expected.

Yormgen is even stranger. There must be all of fourteen people in this entire town, he thinks, and every single one of them vanished into their houses the moment the sun started to set. The only conversation he's heard that he hasn’t been directly involved in since Duke showed up and smashed their apatheia (he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still annoyed about that) is that of his own travelling companions bickering over what to make for dinner with their limited ingredients as he stepped away to find their mysterious disappearing old man.

Raven took the loss of the crystal hard. Or at least, Yuri thinks he did. He certainly vanished quickly when they decided to wait around while Rita took some time to investigate. He’d been right next to him one second and then gone the next, before they’d had a chance to agree to meet back up for dinner at sundown. With no one having seen him all day since to let him know, it’d fallen on his shoulders to hunt him down and drag him back. Raven might’ve been plenty energetic on their first trip through the desert, but they all know better than to let him make the return journey on an empty stomach. The man eats like a bird at the best of times - he really can’t afford to be doing that now.

He’d grumbled and whined about it being him who had to go find him, but in all honesty he’s kind of pleased. He’s found himself surprisingly worried about the old man - this is the first time since they’ve started officially travelling together that he’s pulled a disappearing act. Normally it’s hard to get him to shut up for more than 20 minutes at a time, so the better part of a day without seeing or hearing from him at all is completely unheard of. If his silence doesn’t mean he’s curled up and died somewhere, then Yuri knows that he’s the only one of their party who stands any chance of fetching him with both of them left unscathed.

He’s explored the residential side of the town (if it can truly be called that) extensively already throughout the day. Not that it was hard to do - other than the homes of locals that are a bit further out, the town proper is essentially three big buildings and a deck. He’d quickly concluded that there were very few places to hide a man with a proclivity for such a bright shade of purple amongst the muted timber and the gentle green of the grass. The only conclusion he can come to is that Raven must’ve headed to the other side of town, to the sea of flowers that makes his sinuses itch just looking in their direction.

For all he knows they’ll give him a headache, the flowers are incredibly pretty. It had been the bushes of pink and blue trumpets that had caught his attention in the midday, as Estelle had run over to them in delight and plucked a few. She’d fashioned a few little fascinators, of sorts (a skill she’d learned in the finishing school she had no doubt been forced to attend as the potential future Empress), and spent the better part of an hour lacing them into everyone’s hair. If he looks back over his shoulder, he knows he’ll see Judith wearing the pink blossoms - rhododendron, Estelle had called them - with pride, while Karol nervously fidgets with his own, worried they’ll fall out, ruining the princess’s hard work.

Now, however, in the amber light of the sunset, it’s the flower tunnel that draws his eye. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before - it’s impossible to miss, vibrant as it is. But he’s never been the biggest fan of yellow, always a little bright for his tastes. The way the light bounces off the thousands of little flowers is certainly eye-catching though, setting them in such a way that their radiance is somehow easier on the eye. They’re impossible to look away from as he draws closer, some emotion he’s unused to, couldn’t possibly name, stirring in his chest. The chains dance gently in the breeze, bouncing against each other like a bead curtain, and something about it makes him nostalgic for the familiarity of the Lower Quarter.

Then he spots him, further in, beneath the boughs. His hand rests comfortably on the handle of the knife he keeps at his waist, the other left to the mercy of the breeze as he stares up amidst the blossoms. They bathe him in their glow, mingling with the dying rays of the sun, casting him almost golden . He’s mesmerised by the sight himself, it seems, completely off-guard for the first time in the couple of months Yuri’s known him - for all he plays the fool, Yuri would be an even bigger one not to realise how keenly Raven follows the every movement of all those around him.

But right now, he seems… defenceless. Open. Fragile. Unaware that a world aside from him and the sea of flowers even exists. He could do whatever he wanted to Raven in this moment, he thinks, and he just knows the man would be equally surprised by anything. Something about that knowledge, this vision makes his chest feel light, almost airy.

The image sears itself into his mind, unbidden, and he knows instantly. No matter how hard he tries he’ll never erase it.

“Laburnum.”

He startles as Raven speaks. Perhaps he hadn’t been as unaware as he’d thought.

“Huh?” he grunts dumbly.

“These flowers. They call ‘em Laburnum. Or golden rain in some parts.” he says, flicking his eyes (almost the vibrant green of dense aer with the glow) over to acknowledge Yuri. He goes quickly back to gazing upwards, almost reverent. “Pretty apt.”

Yuri finds himself eyeing the flowers again as he moves closer. They’re strangely shaped, the blooms, unlike any he’s seen before. The petals curl back and in on themselves, clustered closely together in a way that hides the little shock of red in their centres. Stranger still are the buds, gently curved in a way that reminds him of the plantains he’d seen in Dahngrest’s market.

From the right angle, they could almost look like birds in flight, or indeed a sudden burst of rainfall.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Raven’s lips quirk into a smile. His eyebrows set into something pensive, wistful even.

“They’re pretty rare these days. Didn’t think I’d ever get to see a single tree with my own eyes, never mind a whole grove…”

The melancholy that’s settled over him like a veil is impossible to ignore, his voice distant as though transported to another time. There’s a pressure at the base of Yuri’s throat as he watches him, finds himself wanting to do… something. He’s not sure what. Just anything to pull him from his reverie. But of course, in the end all he really knows is sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t have taken you as the type to know about flowers.”

It seems to work somewhat. Though perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised - he and Raven have always been strangely in sync.

“Wouldn’t be much good with the ladies if I didn’t know about little things like flowers, now would I?” he says, finally turning to face Yuri more fully. His eyes soften with mischief, and yet still seem tight with… well if Yuri had to put a name to it, he’d wager it was grief .

A half-joke then; his flower knowledge almost certainly learned on behalf of one lady, though he’d wager not women generally at all. After all, for all he seemed to enjoy playing the womaniser, his actions often seemed chosen to purposefully push them away if anything.

Yuri rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance. Raven smiles. It gets closer to meeting his eyes than he expected it to.

“I can’t imagine just throwing their names around is especially impressive. Seems more like the absolute bare minimum.” he says, hand coming to rest on a cocked hip. Raven’s smile widens, coaxed out of his shell somewhat by the familiar teasing routine.

“Ah, but whoever said I only knew their names?”

His eyebrows raise instinctively. To know flowers’ names is one thing, but any other details aren’t usually common knowledge; their language, how to arrange them, the best methodology for their care all usually things known solely by the upper echelons of society, or else those with enough money in their back pockets to take a chance on starting a related career.

“Don’t tell me…” he trails off, fixing Raven with a sceptical look. The old man’s face splits into a wide grin, hand coming up to flash a peace sign. Dork, his thinks impulsively as he huffs a laugh, surprised at the fond tone the word takes in his mind. Then quick as the cheer arrives it drops again, leaving the previous melancholic half-smile splayed across Raven’s face.

“These wouldn’t be much good in a bouquet though, pretty as they are. If bein’ deadly poisonous wasn’t enough, they’re usually used as a symbol of the forsaken. ” he muses, the last word spat like something dirty from his mouth.

“Who the hell would look at these and decide that? ” Yuri barks out. His expression must look as bewildered as he feels - Raven laughs at him, gentle but genuine.

“Yeah, it seems like a lot, right?” he says. His gaze drifts away from Yuri’s, losing focus and staring past him, through his shoulder. “She always liked them though, in spite of that.”

“...She?” he asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to sound eager, too nosey. Doesn’t want to push when the old man is this fragile. But he can’t help his curiosity - this is the first he’s mentioned of his past, the first clue to piecing together the admittedly fascinating mystery that is Raven. The man himself seems to realise it too, that with just one sentence he’s revealed a huge part of himself he hasn’t previously. Graciously, he doesn’t scramble to hide it away as Yuri might’ve expected.

“Ah. Old friend.” he says softly, as though divulging a secret. “She’s… gone now. But she was always a big fan of flowers. These weren’t her favourite but. She liked ‘em plenty.”

It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Not like you to spill your past out in the open like this, old man.”

It takes all of his mental strength not to kick himself as Raven’s expression shutters, the nostalgia, longing , vanishing from his face in favour of something more carefully guarded. His eyes though, expressive as they are, can’t hide the pain.

“Ah. I suppose they got me feelin’ a little nostalgic. Forgive me.”

The silence stretches out between them for miles and miles as he watches Raven, Raven in turn watching the dancing laburnum above his head. His eyes flicker from bloom to bloom, as though cataloguing each one carefully, trying to commit their shape, their profile to memory. Yuri finds his eyes drawn to his lips as they purse, a gentle pout taut in a manner that gives away the nervous chewing of the inside of his mouth. His thick eyelashes fan over his cheekbones as he blinks, and Yuri hates the silence of the country, because it’s weird sappy shit like this that the bustle of the city helps him to avoid thinking about.

Raven’s a lot like these flowers , is the thought that springs to his mind, unprompted. And it’s ridiculous really. Completely nonsensical. The kind of thing Karol might come out with on a night where he’s overtired, that they’d all tease him for mercilessly until they pass out. But there’s nothing to distract him from it - he’s surrounded by the evidence, and the more he tries to ignore it the more sense it seems to make to him. The two parts of his brain war with each other, unrelenting, and he can feel the push and pull starting to show on his face.

Then a single blossom falls from the canopy above. It lands perfectly atop Raven’s bangs, perched there like a peepit in a tree, and he can’t fight the analogy anymore - Raven certainly looks forsaken, in that instant, the pain swimming in his eyes. And yet usually so bright and cheery, like the flower’s vibrant colouring, almost desperate for attention as he jokes around-- and then pushing people away, like a poison, when they try to get close. An exterior crafted to make you underestimate him, and yet a hidden strength, swift and deadly on the battlefield. A sunny disposition that washes over you like a summer rain, calming and refreshing.

He’s not sure anymore if the golden glow bouncing off Raven’s skin is from the flowers, or just simply the man himself.

A light breeze jostles the flower, and it slips from his hair. The strange shape hooks itself onto the crook of his nose and it wedges firmly, even as the wind picks up, cascading more petals down onto them both. Raven either ignores it, or doesn’t notice, his eyes falling closed as he lets nature wash over him.

He steps closer carefully, unthinkingly. He feels as a moth to a flame, though why he couldn’t say. He’s unfamiliar with the stirring in his chest that rises at the sight, doesn’t understand his compulsion to reach out, to touch Raven. To check he’s still solid and there, that he hasn’t been blown away on the currents of the wind like his namesake.

His hand reaches out, plucking the flower from Raven’s face gently. The old man startles instantly, eyes snapping open and meeting Yuri’s as he flicks the blossom to the floor. Raven’s eyes scan over him, looking for answers that he’s not sure he’ll find. Yuri certainly wouldn’t be able to explain if he were to ask. He simply looks between the sunken blue-green, carefully smoothing more fallen petals from Raven’s shoulders.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, voice practically a whisper beneath the howling of the breeze, far gentler than he’d expected it to be, “I think I understand why your friend liked them.”

Raven’s eyebrow cocks, ever so slightly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he answers, lips quirking into a small smile, something genuine and raw and delicate that he doesn’t recall gracing his face before. “They’ve got a certain charm, I suppose.”

Raven’s breath hitches - he doesn’t hear it, only sees the narrowing of his nostrils, the bobbing of his Adam's apple. His eyes are so round, as the melancholy starts to subside slowly, leaving something inquisitive in his wake. It’s an expression he’s sure he’s seen on Repede before when he was younger, still training, still struggling with learning to sit on command, and it feels strange to compare Raven to a puppy, but it certainly isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened to him in the last 24 hours.

It feels like hours before Raven breaks his eyes away, anything raw and gentle immediately traded for bluster and jokes as he ducks his head.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ out with me amidst the flowers anyway?” he asks, voice a little hoarse as his teasing lilt starts to creep back to him. “The others will start to talk if we keep havin’ these secret rendezvous, young man! How scandalous!”

He slaps his hand to his chest, feinting horror at their make-believe tryst. Yuri snorts, socking him lightly in the arm. Ridiculous as his jokes are, he can’t help but be pleased to see him return to some semblance of normalcy.

“I came to get you for dinner, dumbass. After that, you can feel free to go on ahead to Nordopolica.” he says, turning back around to lead the way to the others with a nod of his head.

Raven snickers at his own antics, hurrying to follow after him as he pulls a hurt expression.

“What, you wanna get rid of me so soon?”

“Wrong.” he snorts, head turned pointedly away in an effort to ignore his self-deprecating jokes. “I just wouldn't want you to miss the new moon and your chance to deliver the letter all on our account.”

The beat of silence that follows is just a touch too long for their usual banter. He turns back to Raven, worried momentarily that he’s run off again and he’ll be on a wild goose chase for the rest of the night, only to find him following attentively behind him. He’s looking at Yuri, expression… totally indecipherable to him for once, actually. It’s a rare occasion for him to have no idea what the old man is thinking.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow quirking. Raven simply smiles, wide and catlike.

“Oh, nothin’ important~” he sing-songs, taking over the lead in the moment Yuri pauses. “Honestly, I could do fine without your concern.”

Yuri scowls.

“Wrong again.” he says, moving to keep pace, their back-and-forth continuing until they arrive back at the inn, and the campfire their party has set up.

(He never does figure out what Raven’s expression had meant on that day, but when he finds the small laburnum branch tangled in his hair alongside the rhododendron the next morning, he quietly stows it away in the bottom of Karol’s bag, heart fluttering strangely in his chest)

-------------⇸

The speed at which Mantaic’s locals manage to throw the party together is honestly quite astounding.

The stalls of the inn concourse have cleared their tables of their wares, already starting to accumulate piles of local cuisine - barely an hour since the news of the Flynn Brigade’s arrival started to spread throughout the town, whispers abandoned in favour of joyous cries despite the extreme early hour, and already there’s a feast to rival one for a noble. People of all ages are wide awake and gleeful, even very young children who don’t fully understand what’s happening squealing with joy at seeing their parents’ and older siblings’ excitement.

The princess tries to help where she can (as always) - shakily carrying huge steaming pots to their directed positions, assisting in dragging tables out of homes to line the streets. Were Flynn not so busy tying up loose ends with the stragglers of the Cumore Brigade, Judith’s sure he’d be dancing around her like a mother hen. Instead, Karol and Rita have become his stand-ins, getting roped into helping themselves albeit minus Estelle’s unshakeable enthusiasm.

She’s glad everything turned out okay in the end. It had been with great unease that they’d all drifted off to sleep the night before, distressed at their powerlessness, their lack of time. Battling with the princess’s impulsivity had been hard, especially in the presence of her big round eyes and quivering lips, but a necessary evil. There really wasn’t anything they could’ve done. Judith remains firm in her belief - it would be impossible to rehabilitate a man like Cumore in jail. Even with the combined influence of Flynn and Estelle, the strength of their idealism and naïveté, a man as corrupt as he would never conform to concepts like morals and ethics. He would only change in death.

The man’s fall from grace, while certainly better than allowing him to run amok, does little to satisfy her in all honesty. The townspeople, however, just seem glad to be free of his clutches, regardless of the flaws in the Empire’s justice system. She can’t blame them really - she’s sure she’d feel the same in their shoes, the ever-lingering threat of death by dehydration or being eaten alive finally lifted from their shoulders.

She’s glad for the lifting of the tense air that had settled over their travelling party the night before. That there’s a smile on Estelle’s face again is good too. For the sake of the guild, nothing more , she scolds herself mentally, quashing the leap in her chest as the baby blues smile in her direction.

She finds herself counted as one of the old souls on this occasion; the small group who are extremely pleased for the turn of events and the freedom of the people, but are either too tired or consider themselves too uninvested to actually lend a hand. Raven is a regular to this group, fucked as his sleeping pattern is, and it doesn't surprise her as much as she thought it would that Patty too sits among them.

Yuri sitting back, however, is new.

Something is off with him. Something has been off with him since… well, certainly since their discovery of Cumore's little scheme. He’s never been the most talkative of their group, a man of relatively few words until it comes to snide jibes and teasing, or else rallying speeches to raise morale or call outs for something he perceives to be an injustice.

(She’d say he was self-righteous - but then, by that same line of thinking, isn’t she also?)

His usual quietude has never felt like this though - dense and oppressive like thunderclouds, holding a tension that, if referred to, threatens to strike like lightning, harsh and quick and painful. It’s possible he’d just slept badly, but she doubts it. She and Yuri are painfully alike at the best of times and in this, it seems, they continue to be.

Yes, for Yuri, the biggest champion of justice among them, to still be so tense, so incredibly on edge… It’s extremely telling.

The only one who seems to have noticed Yuri’s torment other than her (and his faithful pooch) is, of course, Raven. It’s no surprise - he’s always kept a close eye on Yuri, in the time she’s known them. She’d heard tell that the Don had taken an interest in Yuri when he’d met him, in a way usually foreign to him in regards to newcomers. Normally it would be years - years of hard work, of craft and contributions in the name of the guilds, for the man to so much as glance in your direction, let alone learn your name (understandably so for so busy and powerful a man). Yet Yuri had waltzed in and garnered his full attention in the space of a few hours, at best.

That Raven has clearly been instructed to stake him out, in addition to his apatheia hunt, feels natural. Less so is a good chunk of what he actually seems to be observing about Yuri - she’s sure the Don would much rather see a report on his fighting capabilities, his disposition, the flexibility of his morality in a pinch, than whatever he’s gleaning by staring at his back when he takes his shirt off, or watching the flow of his hair in the desert breeze.

(That is, however, a report she would quite like to read, if for nothing more than watching the burn of Raven’s ears at the request)

This morning, however, the eye he keeps on him is careful. Though the ever-present catlike smirk that plays over his lips remains, there’s something considering to his gaze - a scheme in the works but not those of his usual calibre. Nothing designed to rile Rita, fluster Estelle or make the kids laugh (though she’s sure if he can tie his usual goals into whatever he’s concocting then he certainly won’t shy away at the chance).

If she had to guess at his intentions, she’d have thought--

The blaring of a horn throws her suddenly from her train of thought - the celebrations are brought instantly into full swing by a makeshift band of passing guildsmen throwing their own contributions into the mix. Judith doesn’t consider herself a big listener of music, in all honesty, but she’d be hard pressed not to recognise the juxtaposed staccatos and legatos characteristic of Dahngrestian swing - while lesser known within Empire towns like this one, the style is famous the world over.

She hasn’t had many opportunities to join in with the festivities the guilds are known for throwing, where dancers step and twirl faster than the barkeeps can pour drinks (and really, isn’t that an impressive thought, considering the drinking culture in Dahngrest?) She’s bore witness to their local dancing customs only once or twice, and never within the heart of the city itself, and she knows with certainty that while her footwork on the battlefield might be immaculate, she has two left feet for dancing - would certainly never dare to attempt swing. She has great sympathy for the townsfolk who, while enraptured by the melody, feet tapping along jovially, seem as though they don’t know quite what to do with it.

Altosk’s second, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He barks a delighted laugh that startles Patty, almost jostling her from the table she’s perched upon, and finally momentarily draws Yuri from his reverie. She watches, amused, as he throws Yuri’s grumpy, inquisitive look a wink before springing to his feet.

“Hey, kid!” he calls, flagging Karol down as he heads to the middle of the concourse. Their illustrious guild master looks up from the mabo curry bun he’s attempting to swallow whole, wide-eyed. Raven grins, crooked and gummy in a way she’s come to associate with his mischief.

“Why don’t we show these lovely folks how it’s done, as thanks for their hospitality?”

Karol is practically vibrating at the concept. In a flash he’s pulling off his gloves and whipping his bag over his head, dumping the pile in Rita’s lap (eliciting, of course, an incredibly over the top yelp of annoyance). He scarfs down the remnants of the bun as he hops over the table he’s sat at, scampering over to Raven in a manner that does nothing to hide his enthusiasm.

“You better not stand all over my feet, Raven!” he calls as he draws closer, face pulling into a pout that doesn’t quite ring true. The noise Raven makes in response is rather like that of a strangled cat.

“The nerve o’ kids these days!” he bemoans, pinching his sinuses with a shake of his head. “I’ll have you know yours truly is the pride of Altosk! Ya won’t find a better dancer in all o’ Dahngrest, not even the Don himself!”

“Uhu, suuuure. ” Karol drawls, disbelieving, as he comes to a stop by his side.

It’s as he does that Raven ducks his head close to the boy, hand a shield to cover whatever he says. His words are inaudible, but if Karol’s terrible attempts at hiding his furtive glances in Yuri’s direction are anything to go by, Judith would have to guess it’s something about whatever Raven’s scheming for Brave Vesperia’s second.

The band seems to catch wind of their plans, slowing the jaunty tune down to allow the two to begin. Karol dusts his hands off on his trousers bashfully, ridding himself of any remnants of curry, before taking Raven’s hand in his. Their movements start off slow and creeping, almost unnatural to watch, but it quickly becomes apparent to her that they’re motions meant to teach rather than for actual dancing - an enunciated display of footwork for the surrounding beginners as they take their time to get a feel for each other as dance partners.

And then, Raven taking Karol’s waist, they begin in earnest. Movements still slow, but now fluid as water, they begin to turn around one another in the style she vaguely recognises, and while she knows nothing about dancing, it’s clear that they’re extremely good. They match each other's timing perfectly, not a step out of place, and she could believe they were gliding if not for the dust their footsteps kick up.

Karol is good, of course, especially for a kid of his age (she wonders idly if he might’ve had a brief foray in a dancing guild, prior to joining the Hunting Blades), but Raven is really something else. She’s never seen a man able to move his hips in such a way, sashaying in a way that’s frankly a little hypnotising - if she thought he were truly interested in her, then this’d definitely be enough to make her begin to consider his earlier flirtations more seriously. It’s frankly criminal, she thinks, that his trousers and jacket do so much to obscure his ass.

As they become more comfortable, they begin to ramp it up a little - they take it in turns to twirl one another, alternating between wide sweeping arcs, Raven displaying his extreme flexibility to twist beneath Karol’s arm, to fast tight twirls that almost remind her of Rita’s casting motions. For these, Karol spins so quickly she’s surprised he doesn’t completely lose balance and land face first in the dirt. Instead he simply laughs jovially, really getting into the spirit of it and losing himself to the music. Raven’s responding smile is fond, like a father watching their kid, and she could almost believe they’ve both forgotten about their ulterior motives, if not for how Raven keeps glancing in their direction every other time he’s facing their way.

It’s as Estelle drags Rita out to join them, accompanied by a group of the locals, that Judy feels something ugly snare her heart and promptly takes the opportunity to cast a considering glance instead to Patty and Yuri. The smaller is bouncing where she sits, gleefully watching the dancers - she seems antsy to join in, if only she could find a spare partner who wouldn’t accidentally crush her.

Yuri surprises her - while he might not be completely out of his funk, he’s watching more attentively than she previously expected. She gazes at him curiously for a while as he leans his head on his hand, watching the Dahngrestian pair’s increasing frenzy. Karol’s giggles are near constant, and Raven’s been infected by his happiness, laughing obnoxiously himself. The creases of Yuri’s eyes tighten, even as the rest of his face fails to emote, as his eyes seem to lock on Raven’s face and stay there. She smiles.

“Ahem.” she coughs, sharp and decidedly fake. Yuri and Patty both are startled away from the party, turning to her. She raises her eyebrows pointedly at the former, coy smirk rising to her lips. His eyes widen in response, as Patty turns confusedly to look at him, before he flusters, turning away from the party entirely. She laughs.

It’s at that moment that Karol comes spinning towards them, hand freed from Raven’s grasp at last. His smile is blinding, and he’s struggling to catch his breath, but he still seems to be full of energy as Raven follows behind him.

“Patty, you probably know a bit of swing, right?” he asks her, real question thinly veiled by his proffered hand.

She’s a clever lass, though. “Hah! Of course I do, matey!” she declares, grabbing it firmly and pulling him back out into the street.

Raven watches them go fondly, before turning to her. With a flourish, he bows to her, graceful as a knight but with none of the prim and proper charm.

“Judy, my darlin’, could I convince ya to honour ol’ Raven with a dance?”

His eyes never leave hers as he asks, gaze sharp and lacking all pretense of genuine flirting.

Ah, so that’s his game is it?

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” she declares exaggeratedly, hand to her chest. “Not when Yuri so clearly wants to instead!”

The effect is instant. She barely has time to note the twitch of Yuri’s ears at the sound of his name before his head whips around to look at them.

“Hu- what?”

Raven springs back upright, throwing his hand up to clutch at his own chest.

“Yuri, darlin’, if you wanted to dance with me then all you had to do was say so! No need to make Judy do all yer dirty work for ya!”

He closes the gap between them in a matter of steps, as Yuri’s face grows more panicked by the second.

“Wh-- no, what?! Judy, no, I can’t dance , JU--!!”

She smiles as Raven takes him by the hand and tugs him away. Yuri’s expression reminds her of a bunwigle, caught unaware in the middle of the night, backed into a corner with no escape. It’s incredibly endearing, and certainly a nice change from the faux-apathy he’s been stewing in.

As they move away she watches as Raven’s expression transforms from mischievous to something more careful, considerate. He doesn’t guide Yuri to the middle of the crowd as she’d expected, where their friends spin with reckless abandon, but instead to a quieter area of the dancing space. Yuri seems just as confused as she feels, more than likely expecting Raven to have humiliated him with his lack of skill. They’re far enough away that whatever the older man says to reassure him is lost to her, but he smiles and takes Yuri’s hands gently.

Her heart swells at the careful way Raven teaches him, easily pulls him out of his darker thoughts and concentrates his mind on something else. Yuri doesn’t strike her as the sort to let himself be taken care of, but she doubts he even realises that’s what’s happening - probably sees it instead as some sort of challenge. It’s nice. She might not have known him long, but she feels close to him in a way she hasn’t felt with another person for… a good ten years, she’d wager. She’d forgotten what it felt like, to see good things happen to someone you care about.

He trips over Raven’s feet often, but Raven doesn’t let him get self-conscious about it - instead exaggeratedly pretending to trip himself in a way that allows Yuri to chip in and tease him. When there’s one failed attempt too many and Yuri attempts to break away, he simply pulls him back in, closer, and looks him in the eyes.

(She feels a little bad for still watching, personal and intimate as the moment is becoming, but it’s hard to find anything else interesting at this point)

“What is it I always say when I’m fightin’, Yuri?” she can just about hear the old man say over the wail of the trombone.

Yuri’s tone is monotonous, even as his face starts to rise into an affectionate smirk.

“‘Ooo, eee, ow, my back hurts?’” he says, quirked eyebrow a dead giveaway for his bullying. He receives a light slap to his arm for his trouble that leaves him laughing openly in a way she… hasn’t actually seen from him in the time she’s known him.

Huh.

“That it’s just like dancin’, ya dolt!” he says. He laces their fingers carefully before starting to move once more through the basic steps. “You’ll see what I mean before long.”

After a few more failed attempts, Yuri finally starts to figure it out. He still steps on Raven’s toes more often than not, but it’s to be expected for a newbie in the face of a dance as rapid as swing - she’s quite impressed at how fast he’s picked it up in all honesty. He’s already doing a damned sight better than Rita, whose motions are still awkward and stiff as she’s twirled by Estelle (though she looks to be having the time of her life, in spite of it).

They look very sweet together, in all honesty. It’s the most she’s seen either of them relax in front of other people - Yuri’s snark is quickly abandoned as he starts to really get into the swing of it, and most of Raven’s jokes and teasing go along with it. They’re just a couple of normal guys in their own little world, dancing together beneath the rising sun, looking genuinely happy for once. Watching them laughing together, she finds her own spirits raised too, even as she continues to sit to one side like a wallflower.

And she’s glad she did. If she hadn’t, she’d have missed out on this potentially one-time-only sight of Yuri’s carefree smile. Would’ve never seen the sudden change in Yuri’s demeanor as he looks up at Raven mid-spin, eyes widening, before his expression becomes suddenly raw.

He’s not watching his feet at all any more - he’s just going with the flow, and reading Raven’s movements and they’re incredibly in sync to say Yuri has all of 10 minutes of experience. It’s strange to think it, but he seems to be having fun , doing something other than fighting, even despite his mess ups.  Yuri’s uncharacteristically crooked smile, as his eyes never leave Raven’s, is blindingly beautiful, and piques her curiosity.

Before today, when she’d seen the admiring glances the Raven had sent his way, she’d have thought he was barking up the completely wrong tree. Now though (although she doubts Yuri’s realised the way he’s starting to look at the old man) she’s really not so sure.

Then the moment is gone.

Behind her, she hears him. Flynn, barking orders to his brigade, accompanied by the protests of the now-bound followers of Cumore. And in that exact instant, Yuri stops stock-still. Raven goes crashing into him, frantically apologising and trying to check he’s okay, but it’s as though he isn’t there. Yuri just stares past her to Flynn, eyes wide and unseeing but… terrified , if she had to take a guess.

She can hear Raven call to him as he slips his hands free from his grip, and he looks up glancingly. He mutters something, what she can only imagine is some excuse, or a few words of apology, before he’s stalking off towards the inn and shutting the door behind him briskly.

Raven, standing alone and off to one side, looks very small in that instant. Like he doesn’t know quite where he went wrong, what he could’ve possibly done differently.

Perhaps, just this once, she can take pity on him. After all, if there’s anyone who can fix her left feet…

Standing and smoothing down her skirts, she heads over to him, taking his hand, and he startles. His big blue eyes look up at her, puppy-like, and it’s like Estelle the night before all over again. She sighs, already regretting her question before she asks.

“Is the offer still open?”

He smiles. Solemn. But it’s a start.

me, age 12: haha yeah raven blatantly has a thing for yuri and i love them together, but i guess there isn't much to imply yuri likes him back huh me, age 24, seeing the 'Happy Birthday' skit for the first time and learning the Very Specific Age Gap between Yuri and his first ever crush: a

ftr no one in the vesperia party is cishet no i will not take questions

[crazy-loca-blog]

Casey Valentine: About Her Future

A/N: This has been one hell of a ride! Talking about Casey and her life has been an amazing experience. There are many situations about her future that I haven't figured out yet, that's why I'm keeping things in a very limited timeframe (around 2 and maybe 3 years after the end of her residency). Thanks a lot to @openheartfanfics for organizing this event. I've had a blast!

Meet My MC || About Her Past || About Her Present

Casey has been leading the diagnostics team for over two years now. And things have changed a lot.

As soon as she assumed her new role, she was determined to make the team the core of a system that also involves the rest of the departments at Edenbrook. And she uses her friends for it.

Casey, Ines and Jackie are implementing a special program to evaluate interns and residents in order to discover outstanding doctors that may support the diagnostics team and other areas in the hospital after their boards. It follows a lot of the guidelines that Ethan used when they were interns, but it also gives selected residents an opportunity to assist the diagnostics team in some cases in order to improve their skills.

Elijah and Zaid became her go-to people when it comes to studies and reseach, especially in those cases where experimental treatments are the only option for patients.

Sienna quickly became a team favorite. As the best pediatrician at Edenbrook, every time the team receives a pediatric case, she is involved in the course of treatment of the patient. Casey is considering to offer her a permanent spot in the team.

Bryce's research skills when it comes to evaluate surgical options for patients are brilliant, so he frequently helps Harper by giving her second opinions on certain procedures. He also covers for her as member of the diagnostics team every time she's on leave.

When a patient needs rehab after some surgery, Rafael is the one in charge of the process. The results his patients achieve in their recovery are proof that he has all the profesionalism, the patience and the work ethics the team needs in their collaborators.

As per Baz and Ethan, Casey convinced them to keep collaborating with the team on an ocassional basis. They are one of the best immunologists and the best diagnostician in the country, so she needs their brains in her team, even if it's not permanently. They assist in the hardest and most enigmatic cases.

Despite all their efforts, the team can't accept every case they receive. And that's when Kenmore help is appreciated. A year ago, Tobias, Casey and Aurora developed a collaboration project between the diagnostics teams of both hospitals, which now allows both Edenbrook and Kenmore to help twice the amount of people they used to assist when they worked separately.

Of course, none of this would be possible without Ethan's help. As Chief of Medicine, he has the power to approve most of Casey's projects, so he's been making a very good use of a position that he wasn't convinced to accept at first. It's definitely been a win-win situation when it comes to team work between Dr. Ramsey and Dr. Valentine.

Despite of them being very private when it comes to their personal lives, there is no doubt that Casey and Ethan are relationship goals. If seeing them working together in the past was a delight, the way they've been ruling Edenbrook after becoming official has certainly helped them become the power couple the hospital needed.

Because you can definitely tell they're not only great partners, but also each other's best friend. Their nonverbal communication skills are at a whole different level and they certainly boost each other in a way you can tell they're the best thing that has ever happened to the other. They're in love and it shows.

That's why no one was surprised when, after 8 months of becoming official, they decided to move in together.

But everybody was surprised when Ethan proposed only a few months afterwards. Except for his dad and her brother (who were the only people who knew about his plans), literally no one saw it coming, not even Casey (because yes, Ethan has mastered the art of surprising her).

They almost canceled the wedding... twice. The stress of their jobs plus the chaos that involves planning a wedding was beginning to affect their wellbeing as individuals. It wasn't a big issue for any of them: Casey never cared about having a ring on her finger and they both knew that nothing about their relationship would change if they didn't sign a piece of paper, as they were certain they had sealed the deal a long time ago.

The thought of an elopement also crossed their minds... and right when they were about to do it, Sienna came up with a brilliant idea to save their original plan: a micro wedding, that took place 6 months ago.

These newlyweds like saying they have a family of four: Ethan's dad and Casey's brother are pretty much the only relatives they have, so they consider them part of their household. They even have their own rooms in their new home in Boston!

They'd both agree that getting used to wear a ring has probably been the hardest part of their marriage, even when they cared about buying bands that were "compatible" with their jobs. But they are pretty sure that if they take it off, they'll end up losing it, so they kind of gave up. They expect to get used to it over time.

When they're not at work, they love exploring all the hidden gems that Boston has to offer. They've found a bunch of great places thanks to Rafael's recommendations, but they have also discovered a lot of new places by themselves. That doesn't mean they don't enjoy a good date at home after an exhausting day at work or getting lost and disconnecting from the world for a full weekend without telling anyone where they are.

This philosophy of discovering new places also applies to their holidays. Sometimes they'd go to well-known places, but they both agree that their favorite trips are those where they visit underrated destinations. Of course, they also leave a few days to visit Alan in Providence and to go to Casey's home in Virginia.

Kids? They have talked about it, but they don't feel ready to take that step yet. Not only their jobs are very demanding, they both have some baggage they need to get rid of before thinking about becoming parents. They're not in a hurry though, they're convinced that everything happens for a reason... they are happy, and that's all that matters.

She may not live with them anymore, but the roomies (and the rest of the gang) are still incredibly close. Casey still has lunch with whoever is available almost every day, and they still have a booth with their names on it at Donahue's.

When Casey moved in with Ethan, they didn't search for a new roomie. With the exception of Sienna, they all were attendings, so it was easier for them fo afford Casey's part ot the rent. They decided to turn her room into an office they all use a lot.

And none of them has the intention to leave their apartment any time soon. Housing in Boston is incredibly expensive, and they know none of them could afford a place like the one they have by themselves. This also gives them a chance to get rid of their med school debt a little faster.

Jackie, Aurora, Sienna and Casey also host a "girls just want to have fun" event at the apartment whenever Elijah visits his parents. It's a bonding tradition they started during their residency and they have no intention to finish any time soon. Sometimes, Kyra (when she is in town), Ines and Angie join them as well.

Bryce is the person she relies on when she needs a brotherly figure. She can definitely see a lot of her brother on him, and he always seem to have the right answer to everything. He also had to get a bigger place, as Keiki returned to Boston after being accepted at Harvard. Casey and Jackie guided her to attend med school... and convinced her to become a diagnostician.

The gang never knows when Kyra is going to make some surprise visit. She's been travelling around the world for a long time now, but she's been back home a few times for special ocasions. The last time they saw her was for Casey and Ethan's wedding.

Sienna and Casey have been exchanging recipes for a while now. Casey can cook to survive, but Ethan takes cooking to a whole new level, so Sienna usually comes to the rescue when her bestie needs help.

Casey is also playing matchmaker between Sienna and Rafael. She has been observing the way they look at each other for a while, and she's convinced they would make the cutest couple ever. Because beautiful souls deserve to be together. So yeah, she most definitely will introduce Sienna and Rafael's vovo very soon with some "help me cook dinner" excuse.

Tags: @adiehardfan @izzyourresidentlawyer

[vavuska]

This girl is right: Freud's mom was a hottie!

Sigmund Freud (aged 16) and his mother, Amalia, in 1872

More about Oedipus complex:

Who were Freud's parents?

Freud was born to Jewish parents in the Moravian town of Freiberg, in the Austrian Empire (now Příbor, Czech Republic), the first of eight children. Both of his parents were from Galicia, a historic province straddling modern-day West Ukraine and southeast Poland. His father, Jakob Freud (1815–1896), a wool merchant, had two sons, Emanuel (1833–1914) and Philipp (1836–1911), by his first marriage. Jakob's family were Hasidic Jews and, although Jakob himself had moved away from the tradition, he came to be known for his Torah study. He and Freud's mother, Amalia Nathansohn, who was 20 years younger and his third wife, were married by Rabbi Isaac Noah Mannheimer on 29 July 1855. They were struggling financially and living in a rented room, in a locksmith's house at Schlossergasse 117 when their son Sigmund was born. He was born with a caul, which his mother saw as a positive omen for the boy's future.

In 1859, the Freud family left Freiberg.

Jakob Freud took his wife and two children (Freud's sister, Anna, was born in 1858; a brother, Julius born in 1857, had died in infancy) firstly to Leipzig and then in 1860 to Vienna where four sisters and a brother were born: Rosa (b. 1860), Marie (b. 1861), Adolfine (b. 1862), Paula (b. 1864), Alexander (b. 1866).

How was Freud's relationship with his parents?

The answer to this question could be found in the letters from Freud to Wilhelm Fliess, a Berlin nose and throat doctor with whom Freud carried on a passionate 15-year friendship. The letters suggested a greater anguish by Freud over the abandonment of the seduction theory and several details about his auto-analysis.

Mothers and Nannies

Amalia was considered by her grandchildren to be an intelligent, strong-willed, quick-tempered but egotistical personality. She has been described as lively and humorous, with a strong attachment to her eldest son whom she called "mein goldener Sigi".

Just as Amalia idolised her eldest son, so there is evidence that the latter in turn idealised his mother, whose domineering hold over his life he never fully analysed.

However, nannies or nurses were always present in the Viennese's bourgeois households. The Freud-Fliess letters attracted attention to Freud's nanny and also to the role played by nannies in the ideal family of psychoanalytic theory. Included in the models that explained the bourgeois family since the nineteenth century, but excluded by analytic theory, the nanny, ever present in Austrian upper-class families, still poses a question to the father-mother-infant triangle. The relevance of the nanny's presence in children's development is fundamental and could introduce themes such as adultery, sexual harassment by the master, illegitimate children.

Freud's interest in nannies began, it seems, with the analysis of the cases that would be known in the analytical literature as those that were in the origin of the 'seduction theory' – and also with his auto-analysis. His interest, though, extended well beyond the time of this emergence, as we will see.

Almost all of his patients had a nanny or nurse – some of them had two, what would lead to a curious unfolding of this character, either in the duo good mother/ bad nanny, or, in a kind of duplication, as good nanny/bad nanny.

Freud's nanny, from whom even the name is disputed, could have been a Czech woman, a catholic, who took him to masses and reproved him for being good for nothing. He wrote:

"Today's dream has, under the strongest disguise, produced the following: she was my teacher in sexual matters and complained because I was clumsy and unable to do anything."

In the next letter (October, 15), Freud registers what his mother had told him about the nanny. Asking her if she remembered the nanny, he got the answer:

"Of course", she said, "an elderly person, very clever, she was always carrying you off to some church; when you returned home you preached and told us all about God Almighty. During my confinement with Anna (two and a half years younger) it was discovered that she was a thief, and all the shiny new kreuzers and zehners [coins] and all the toys that had been given to you were found in her possession. Your brother Philipp himself fetched the policeman; she then was given ten months in prison."

Telling that his nanny made him steal money to give her, Freud interpreted his dream as a reproach for asking money from his patients for his bad treatment of them, in the same way as "the old woman got money from me for her bad treatment." The fact that Freud used his mother's remembrance to strengthen the interpretation he made of the dream –in which he was the thief - doesn't matter here, neither his identification with the nanny, observed by some analysts of this famous dream ("I = She"), but it is relevant to consider that it seems that it was with his auto-analysis that the nanny figure began to be seen as a malignant one or, in the best hypothesis, as an ambiguous one.

What needs explanation is how the theory of the Oedipus complex accounts for the boy's guilty impulses toward his mother but ignores the boy's arousal at the hands of his nurse, especially in view of how much more attention his nurse gets from Freud than his mother does.

Discussing the possible interpretations of Freud's dreams along his auto-analysis, many authors saw the relevance of the nanny's presence in his development until his conclusion that "the remarkable circumstance" is that Freud, in effect, had two mothers, his actual mother – whose nakedness he can only mention in Latin – and his nanny whom he remembers in association with numerous disturbing sexual experiences. Having two such mothers, and the luck of having the 'bad' ugly mother banished from his life when he was only two and a half, allows Freud to maintain a secure split between the internalized good and bad mothers.

Unconsciously, Freud's nurse was his seductress and shamer, his mother the pure object of guilty desire.

Thus Freud's discovery of the Oedipus complex emerges not only from memories of a small boy's guilty, aggressive lust for his mother, but from memories of dependence on her, too – a dependence remembered, however as the seduction of a small bourgeois, Austrian boy by a Czech working-class woman in a province of the Austrian Empire still recovering from the Revolution of 1848.

Freud's father

To begin with the so-called 'seduction theory': in 1896 Freud published a polemic article in which he attributed the origin of hysteria to a sexual trauma suffered by his female – and some male - patients that ranged from sexual harassment to sexual abuse in the hands of a member of the family: uncles (some of whom were revealed as fathers in subsequent publications), brothers, guardians, school colleagues, or nannies. He said that this trauma was "unhappily" caused "too frequently, by a near kin."

In this article he said that in 18 cases of hysteria until then analyzed by him (six men and twelve women), all of them showed this etiology, or cause, of the condition.

By 1897, Freud was spending six days a week analyzing his patients, many of them suffering from hysteria. Increasingly, their problems resonated with his own. Freud began to suspect that he too was neurotic, suffering from what he described as "a little case hysteria." He became consumed by his own self-analysis.

In the spring of 1897, Freud wrote his friend Fliess about a new patient, a young woman with hysterical symptoms: "It turned out that her supposedly otherwise noble and respectable father regularly took her to bed when she was eight to twelve years old and misused her…"

It was Freud wrote, "fresh confirmation" that the prime cause of hysteria was the sexual abuse of an innocent child by an adult, most often, a father. But his theory had alarming implications. If he himself suffered from a form of hysteria, and if an abusive father caused hysteria, then Freud was forced to draw a distressing conclusion. He began to imagine that his own father might have abused him. Three months after Jacob's death, he wrote Fliess: "Unfortunately, my own father was one of these perverts, and is responsible for the hysteria of my brother… and those of several younger sisters."

Freud realized that he can not get further in understanding others unless he analyzes himself. That was another one of those great ideas. [But] The dreams that he analyzed are not really particularly well analyzed.

Freud interpreted the message "close the eyes" in his dream after his father's death to mean that there was something he was not meant to see, nor to know about, his father. To make his theory work, his father's secret had to be that he had sexually abused his children. But, when he could find no evidence of such behavior and no clear memory of abuse among his brothers and sisters, his seduction theory collapsed.

By the next year, he began doubting his proposition, and wrote to Fliess: "I don't believe in my neurotica [neurosis theory] any more." Even if he mentioned the seduction theory in other letters of this year (and also years after), he began, then, to treat these denounces of his patients as a fantasy.

[wistfulcynic]

Error 404: “Little” Brother Not Found

SUMMARY: Liam Jones loves his little brother, he truly does. And if that love takes the form of good natured teasing, well, what’s the harm in that? Sure it annoys Killian but that’s kind of the point, and anyway Killian’s still just a lad. Liam’s sure he only just started shaving last year at the earliest. So when he stumbles on Killian mid-dalliance with a certain blonde princess, Liam is forced to reassess a lot of things about his “little” brother, many of which do. not. compute. 

a/n: ahahahahaha yeah. So this sprang, as so many mad things do, from a discord discussion about how Liam might react to the discovery that his little brother, the awkward, blushing, nerdy Lieutenant Jones, is in actual fact not so awkward anymore and involved with Princess Emma. Involved, in multiple senses of the word.  

I have never been a huge fan of Liam, full disclosure, and I particularly dislike it when their interactions infantilise Killian and take away from his own qualities and accomplishments. So while Liam in this fic does not die or get hurt in any physical way, he does have a few fairly painful revelations. And of course the full DOES NOT COMPUTE meltdown. NOT SORRY. 

This is modern Lieutenant Duckling. Imagine Misthaven as a 21st century minor European kingdom. 

-

Rating: hard-ish T/soft-ish M Words: 3.5k Tags: Modern AU, Modern Royalty AU, Lieutenant Duckling, Brothers Jones

On AO3

-

Liam Jones likes to think of himself as a reasonable man. He’s an honest man, and an honourable one. Those two attributes have never been in question. He’s frequently an impatient man, and sometimes a judgemental one, as his little brother Killian tells him frequently. Killian also calls him a stubborn arse, and Liam has to admit that this might also be valid, but when Killian accuses him of being unreasonable, well, that’s where he draws the line. 

He’s perfectly reasonable. Perfectly. What’s unreasonable are Killian’s objections to a) being called ‘little brother’—he is little, after all, by comparison to Liam’s greater height and broader shoulders—and b) his refusal to allow his older and wiser and bigger brother to help him find a girl. 

“I do not require your input on that subject, thank you very much,” Killian snarls. “Kindly back the fuck off.” 

“But Tink is really nice,” wheedles Liam, as they walk from where his ship is moored in the harbour and into the town to have some lunch. Killian no longer serves on the same ship, having accepted a secondment about a year ago to work on a highly specialised project for the Royal Council. But whenever Liam is in port they make a point of spending as much time as they can together. 

“I’m sure she is,” Killian sighs. “Not interested.”  

“She’s pretty, too.” 

“I don’t doubt it. Still not interested.” 

“Look, Killian, I’m only trying to help—” 

“No, you’re trying to control me as you always do. I’m twenty-four years old, Liam! I’m an officer in the Royal Navy, same as you, and trust me when I tell you I am more than capable of finding my own women!” 

Liam scoffs at this. Killian only just started shaving, he’s sure of it, and the last time he witnessed his little brother trying to interact with a female Killian stumbled over his own feet and spilled his drink down the front of her dress. 

He still brings that one up. 

-

The next day he goes to visit Killian at the project’s headquarters in the palace library. On his way there he runs into Princess Emma—almost literally, as she’s not paying any attention to where she’s going, strolling along with a sort of dazed, dreamy look in her eyes, and he does his best to catch her as respectfully as possible by the elbow before she slams into him. 

“Begging your pardon, Your Highness,” he says, with a small bow. 

“Oh! Captain Jones!” Emma blinks in surprise. “Er—I apologise, my mind was wandering.” 

Liam bows again. “No trouble at all, Princess.” 

He stands aside so she can pass and watches her go with a smile on his face, wondering if he should tease Killian about it now or wait until later. Liam flatters himself he has a good relationship with Princess Emma; he served as a member of her personal guard for a short time and they have always got on well. Killian on the other hand, always flushes bright pink whenever her name is mentioned and makes stuttering excuses for why he has a pressing need to be anywhere that she is not. 

It’s adorable, Liam thinks. Killian has a little crush. 

He finds his brother in the palace library, leaning against a bookshelf like he needs it to hold him up. His colour is high and his hair is sticking up at the back. 

“Lieutenant Jones!” Liam barks. “You are out of uniform!” 

“I—what?” Killian scowls. “What are you on about, Liam, there’s nothing wrong with my uniform.” 

Wordlessly, and with crisp, precise movements, Liam withdraws a comb from his uniform coat and hands it to his brother. Killian’s scowl deepens but he takes it and carefully tidies his hair before handing it back. 

“What have you been doing in here that got your hair all mussed up?” Liam teases. “Research got you excited?” 

“Something like that,” Killian mutters. “I—must’ve tugged on it when I was thinking.” 

“Mmmm,” says Liam, and decides the best time to torture little brothers is always. “I ran into the princess on my way here,” he says casually, biting back a grin when Killian’s ears go pink. 

“Did you?” He’s clearly trying hard to be casual but his voice comes out as more of a croak. 

“Yep. It makes sense, I suppose. Her private apartments aren’t too far from here.” 

Killian clears his throat. “I wouldn’t know anything about that.” 

“Do you ever see her? Or do you hide in the bushes when she goes by?”

“Liam—” Killian growls warningly.

“I’m surprised you accepted this posting, actually, seeing as it means you’re working so close to where she lives. What are you going to do if she stops by to check on your progress? Stammer like a schoolboy in front of the rest of the project team? Run away?” 

Killian’s eyes flash. “I expect I’d manage,” he snarls. “As I keep telling you I’m an adult—” 

“—an adult, yes—”

“—and I do actually know how to speak to women!” 

Liam smirks. “Somehow I don’t think Ariel would agree.” 

“That was eight years ago, Liam! I was sixteen! And you know Ariel and I are friends now. You are literally the only person who ever talks about that anymore.” 

“Well—” 

“Do you know what your problem is?” Killian interrupts. 

“I only have one?” 

“The biggest of your many, many bloody irritating problems is that you refuse to see me as anything but a child. Not that you can’t you just won’t.” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “I wish I knew how to make you.” 

Liam feels a pang of guilt. He does rag on Killian quite a lot, it’s true, but it comes from a place of love. He’d been solely responsible for raising his brother from a time when he was barely more than a boy himself, and he loves Killian fiercely. He just doesn’t quite know how to express it. 

“Hey,” he says, hooking his arm around Killian’s neck and ruffling his hair again. “Don’t be like that, little brother. I’m sorry.” 

Killian pulls out of Liam’s grip and makes an ostentatious show of smoothing down his hair. “Sure,” he says. 

Liam feels bad, and he doesn’t like it. “So, um, why don’t you show me what you’ve been working on?” he says, hoping this will distract Killian from the previous teasing. 

It does. Killian brightens instantly. “Really?” he says. “You actually want to see it?” 

“Of course I do.” 

Liam doesn’t quite understand Killian’s project; it involves lots of complex equations and research into things that he never had the chance to study, but he’s immensely proud of his brother for being chosen to work on it. Killian is the youngest member of the team by a good ten years and his selection was a tremendous honour. Liam nearly burst with pride when he heard of it. 

Not that he would ever tell Killian that. 

Killian’s face is eager as he shows Liam the research he’s been doing and the presentation he’s preparing for the King and the Royal Council. Liam smiles and nods and lets him talk, his mind wandering.

-

Two days later Liam is back at the palace on business and he decides to see if Killian is free for dinner. He knocks on the door of the quarters his brother shares with the other members of the research team, who inform him that Killian isn’t there. 

“He’s not around here much,” one of them says, with a knowing smirk. “I mean, I wouldn’t be either, in his shoes. Lucky git.” 

“Can’t remember the last time he actually slept here,” adds another. “He ‘works late’ a lot.” The man makes quotation marks in the air with his fingers. “I’m guessing right now he’s busy ‘working’ real hard, you know?”

Liam does not, in fact, know. He has no idea what they could be talking about but it’s clear they think he does and so he plays along. 

“Right. Well, er, better luck next time, I guess.” 

He walks back to his ship, wondering what on earth Killian could be doing with his evenings if he’s not spending them in his quarters. Surely he’s not actually still at the library? 

That lad needs to get himself a girl, Liam thinks. If only he would agree to a date with Tink.

- 

The following Thursday is the day of Killian’s big presentation to the Royal Council. Liam arrives a few minutes early, thinking he might have to help calm his brother’s nerves. He takes a seat in the council chambers and looks around for Killian but he is nowhere to be seen. 

Then the door opens and Killian arrives, quite at his ease as he greets the council members and bows to the king. Liam frowns. He expected his brother to be cripplingly nervous, flushing and stammering through his presentation, but the reality could hardly be more different. Killian stands confidently at the lectern, looking older than his years—when did his facial hair get so thick, Liam wonders—and when he begins to speak his voice is deep and calm, with a note of authority Liam has never heard in it before. 

The crowd is riveted, hanging on his every word. The other members of the project team, the Royal Council, none can take their eyes off him. The king is actually taking notes, nodding to himself as Killian speaks. 

Liam catches a glimpse of Princess Emma sitting near the back of the chamber. She’s not officially on the Council though of course she is heir to the throne and so he’s not surprised by her presence at an important event. He is a little bit thrown by the look on her face, though. It’s soft and a bit awed, with shining eyes and flushed cheeks and a sweet smile on her lips. He’s never seen her look like that before.  

Killian concludes his presentation and opens the floor to questions from the audience. There are many, more than Liam anticipated, but Killian handles them all with aplomb, giving knowledgeable, definitive answers and not flinching even when the king himself challenges some of his conclusions. Killian stands straight with his shoulders square as they debate, and Liam gets the strangest feeling that both he and the king are enjoying themselves. 

Liam is proud. He’s always been proud of his little brother, of course he has. Of course he knows that Killian is smart and tough and hard-working, but this—this is a new kind of proud. Like he’s seeing his brother as a peer, for the first time. 

When the presentation is officially over Killian mingles a bit in the crowd and Liam debates going to speak with him. He wants to tell his brother about this new pride he’s feeling, but he’s not sure if he can find the words or if this is really the time or place. But then he sees Killian heading off through one of the council chamber’s side exits and thinks he might take the opportunity to catch Killian and have a few words in private, and so he goes to follow his brother out the door. 

So does Princess Emma. Liam bites his lip to stop his smile when he sees her heading for the same exit through which Killian just disappeared. Because yes, he did just realise that he might need to start treating Killian as more of an equal but that doesn’t change the fact that he’ll always be a big brother and he can’t help wanting to witness Killian stammer and blush when he runs into the princess. 

He slips through the door and follows Emma until she turns a corner, then hurries his pace a bit so as not to lose her.  

“Well,” he hears her say as he approaches the corner. “Fancy meeting you here, Lieutenant.” 

Liam halts just before the turn, waiting for Killian’s stammering reply. Instead he hears something that has his jaw dropping in astonishment. Killian’s voice, pitched lower than usual and with a flirtatious note in it that Liam has never, not even in his wildest dreams, imagined he might hear from his own little brother. 

“What a remarkable coincidence,” Killian replies. 

“Isn’t it just.” 

“Whatever shall I do with you, princess, now I’ve discovered you here in this very dark corridor?” Killian growls. 

“I’m sure you’ve got a few ideas.” Emma’s voice is breathless. “Brilliant man like you.” 

“Oh I do love, I absolutely do. Though I confess they all require you to be wearing rather fewer clothes.”

“Those are my favourite ones,” Emma gasps, then Liam hears the unmistakable sound of kissing. 

They’re kissing. His brother and the princess. They’re just around the damned corner bloody well making out and flirting and talking about sex. 

Sex. 

His brother. 

And the princess. 

The princess. 

The king’s daughter. 

Is talking about sex. 

With his brother. 

What 

What 

Whaaatttt

Liam’s jaw lolls and his throat works, his Adam’s apple bobbing furiously, but no sound comes out. He doesn’t know what noise he’d even make if he could, he certainly isn’t capable of forming any words. He sidles up to the edge of the wall and pokes his head around the corner, just far enough to get visual confirmation of what he still can’t believe he heard. And there it is. There they are, wrapped up in each other with her back pressed against the wall and their mouths fused together. 

Liam was almost hoping that it had all been some insane mistake, that maybe there was another lieutenant waiting in the corridor for the princess and speaking with his brother’s voice. But no. That’s Killian, unmistakably him. It looks like him and sounds like him, everything is him except that this man—yes, man—is kissing and flirting and making some pretty damned blatant allusions to sex. With the princess. Sex that he—that they—ack

Argh 

Ermmmbbgggggghhhhhh

Liam’s brain makes a noise like an old dial-up modem as he watches Killian’s mouth leave Emma’s to trail sucking kisses down the neck she arches back for him, watches as his brother’s hand slides up the bloody royal thigh and under the hem of her dress and between—no. No, he can’t. He can’t see that. He can’t think it. He. Just. Can’t. 

“Fuck.” Emma gasps, rolling her hips against Killian’s hand. “Fuck, Killian.” 

“That is definitely the aim here, love.” 

“Oh, God,” Emma moans. “We can’t do this here.”

“Can’t we?” 

“No, we can’t.” 

No you bloody well can’t, Liam’s brain screams. Please, please, please stop doing this here! 

Emma pushes Killian away and he takes a step back, giving her a smirk that is positively lewd as he slowly licks his fingers. She smirks back, completely unfazed, and saunters towards him with a swing in her hips, hooking her own fingers under the waistband of Killian’s uniform trousers. Trousers that Liam absolutely, positively refuses to notice are tented. Impressively tented. Like perhaps Killian is right to object to being called little brother.

WHYYYYYYYYY wails his brain. 

“Why don’t you come back to my place, sailor, and ravish me properly,” she purrs, and Killian puts his hand on her arse—her arse—his brother’s hand is on the princess of their bloody realm’s arse—(it was someplace far worse a minute ago, but his brain shrivels a bit and warning klaxons begin to shrill in his head before he can think too much about that)—and Killian’s fingers are tracing the curve of the arse in question and curling around the princess’s hip as they head off towards her apartments, bodies moving together in the kind of perfect harmony that suggests that when they fuck it’s hawt. 

Nonononononononononononononooooooooooooooo Liam’s brain is in full meltdown mode now, alarms shrilling and screens flashing error messages and he just. Cannot. Compute. 

He was prepared, almost very nearly prepared, to acknowledge that Killian is a grown man now, one well on his way to an impressive career and who has earned the respect of his colleagues and his king. But this—when—how did his shy and nerdy little brother become smooth enough with women to pull a bloody princess? 

Where is the blushing? The stammering? The tripping over his own feet? 

Where???

-

The next day Liam visits Killian in the library again, finding him sitting quietly at a desk with his brow furrowed as he reads from a large, leather-bound book. His uniform is pristine and his hair tidy, and his reading glasses are slipping down his nose. Liam clears his throat and Killian looks up, his face creasing with a grin. 

“Liam! I was hoping you’d drop by. I didn’t get a chance to talk to you after the presentation yesterday.” 

“No. I, er. Um. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s all right.” Killian waves his apology away. “I left a bit earlier than I was anticipating, actually. Something came up.” 

Liam looks at him carefully to see if this is meant to be a joke, bitterly recalling how twenty-four hours ago it would have never even occurred to him to wonder whether Killian might be making a crude innuendo about his penis. Such a thing would have been as inconceivable as the idea of his brother even carrying on a conversation with Princess Emma, much less—

Killian’s smile begins to fade and Liam pulls himself together, claps his brother on the shoulder. “You did well yesterday,” he said. “I was proud of you.” 

Killian flushes with pleasure. “Thank you, brother,” he says. “It means a lot to hear that from you.” 

That blush is what does it. It’s so familiar, too familiar, and with everything Liam now knows about Killian he simply cannot reconcile these two versions of him, his easy-blushing brother and Princess Emma’s lover and—

“You’re sleeping with her.” 

“I—what?” 

“The princess. You. I saw—and her. Kissing, and—and—how long has this been bloody going on?” 

“Ah.” Killian removes his glasses, folds them up, and places them in their case. He sets the case on the desk and stands, giving Liam a cool look that the elder Jones absolutely cannot meet. “I think perhaps we’d best discuss this someplace more private,” he says. 

He does not blush. 

Killian leads Liam out of the library and across the small, grassy quad that separates it from the royal living quarters. He nods to the guard at the entrance as they go inside and strides confidently through the maze of corridors to a door which he opens with a key that he selects from his own keychain. 

“Emma’s visiting hospitals today,” he says. “She won’t be back until late. We can talk here.” 

“This is—” Liam gulps. “This is the princess’s private apartments.” 

“Yes.” 

“To which you have a key.” 

“I live here. Not officially, of course, for the sake of the optics, but for all intents and purposes they are my apartments too.” 

“So then it’s not—not just—” 

“Not just sex?” Killian smirks. “No. We’ve been together about three years and it’s serious. I plan to marry her.” 

“But—you can’t marry a princess! You’re a—” 

“A lowly lieutenant in her father’s navy? Aye. And I certainly couldn’t marry her in that capacity. But as a valued and trusted adviser on the Royal Council? That would be rather a different story.” 

Liam feels comprehension begin to dawn. “That’s why you wanted to work on this project,” he says.  

“That’s why I wanted to work on this project,” Killian confirms. “And of course, it gives us a chance to live together normally, without attracting attention. Just to be absolutely certain this is what we want.” 

Liam collapses onto a sofa, utterly gobsmacked. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he whispers. 

“Would you have listened?” Killian sits down next to him. “Would you have believed it? All you ever do is tease me and treat me like I’m still sixteen. How would you have reacted to the news that I was dating Emma if you hadn’t seen us together with your own eyes?” 

Liam is silent. He’s ashamed of himself and for once he allows himself to fully feel that shame. Killian is right. He has treated his brother as a child, even though he clearly isn’t one anymore. Not just because of his relationship with the princess but because of his accomplishments in his career and the impressive future he has ahead of him, as a Royal Councillor and someday the Prince Consort. 

Liam could not be prouder. 

“You’re right,” he says after a long silence. “I wouldn’t have listened, and I wouldn’t have believed it. But I will now, both those things. Will you tell me the story? How you met Emma and how you fell in love? And—when you have time I’d love to see more about your project.” He clears his throat. “Actually see it, I mean, and do my best to understand.” 

Killian smiles, wide and delighted. It’s the smile of the boy Liam solemnly promised to take care of all those years ago, and it’s the smile of the man that boy has become. 

“I’d love to, brother,” he says. 

-

@thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @stahlop @mariakov81 @katie-dub @kmomof4 @teamhook @donteattheappleshook @darkcolinodonorgasm @xhookswenchx @snidgetsafan 

[cecaelian]

 UMA’S CREW

It’s been a long time coming, but i’m finally putting together some headcanons about uma’s crew. In what’s my name and it’s goin down there are approximately 12-14 crew members, including harry and gil. with four being noticeably female. so, a summary:

harry is first mate, but in reality he is an amalgamation of first mate and quartermaster. he is in charge when uma isn’t around and he is in charge of overseeing that the crew are all doing their jobs and chores, punishments are rare, but when they need to be carried out, it would be harry’s job. he is also in charge of making sure food and water supplies are brought on board. as the only experience navigator on board, he also fills this role.

gil is the master gunner, as the son of gaston he probably knows the most about weapons, so he is in charge of making sure everyone is keeping their weapons clean and ready for use and in a battle situation, if uma is not immediately available, he’s the one that would be giving orders. if the crew got hold of gunpowder for their canons, he’d be in charge of those too.

jonas is the boatswain, he reports directly to uma or harry and he is in charge of keeping an eye on the rigging, having been taught by harry what it should all look like. when not on the ship he also runs a market stall in the bazaar, selling scarves and fabrics, funds from this go into food and ship maintenance where possible. he lives with the crew on the ship, having lost his family in a fire when he was five. his mother was a witch but he doesn’t seem to show any capacity for magic. he is described as having dark hair, a scar on his cheek and cornrows. he often wears red and black.

desiree is a deckhand and a strong fighter, she joined uma’s crew in the first instance during the quest for the trident. she longs for adventure and is considered the most wild of the crew. she is technically a tremaine, though she abandoned her family to move onto the ship. she adopts a more feminine style, wearing ragged dresses instead of pants, keeping her brown hair long and filling it with orange highlights.

bonny used to work in sykes’ chop shop, but when the opportunity arose to become a pirate on uma’s crew she jumped at the chance. she’s not the best fighter, getting riled up too easily to the point that it makes her sloppy. but she’s very good at knots and takes her duties very seriously. she’s one of the best deckhands on the ship. she dresses for her job, in a fishnet shirt with dungarees over the top, she keeps her black hair cut short and tied out of her face with a strip of red fabric.

gonzo is one of the under gunners and the ship’s blacksmith, he’s in charge of weapons under gil, his duties are often sharpening and cleaning swords and making sure the canons are clean. he is often very opinionated and likes to voice those opinions. he can be considered to be quite a loud-mouth and you shouldn’t really tell him any secrets as he’s as bad as the goblins at spreading rumours around. he has middling length black hair and dresses in bright colours, wearing bright blue pantaloons and a jacket to match.

noelani is the ship’s medic, she has a clinic on the docks where she tends to isle residents as well as the medbay on the ship which is mainly used for crew. she’s very good with plants and creates all kinds of poultices and other substances to help her in her job. see @clippcr​ for more info.

samson is one of the younger members of the crew and is a deckhand, he wasn’t involved in the first wave, but was instead picked up a little later when harry saw him carrying heavy boxes around the docks and recruited him to the crew. despite his small frame he is very strong as he’s actually half giant. he has two half-brothers, kieran, 21, and martin, 10. he’s grown up playing pranks on his brothers so he is very mischievous and good at spotting traps. he is small framed with fair hair and wears layered shirts, often bright colours with black over the top with slashes in it.

emily is a deckhand one of the most dramatic crew members after Uma and Harry. she is a fierce fighter and a good combatant. she is one od the few crew members who don’t live on the ship as she has a secondary job working in the market for her family. they sell homewares and she often saves the best plates/cups/cutlery to sell to the chip shop or donate to the ship. she has long blonde hair and dresses in dark purple, preferring classic style dresses with puffy sleeves. her dress sense is overstated and she likes to show off. she has a younger brother named elias, who is age 12 and has recently started work fishing from the dock.

brianna is learning how to be a medic from noelani. she occasionally fills in shifts for uma at the chip shop when uma is busy with her other work. she also often takes charge of looking after her brother, Bruno, and her younger sister, Bridget, who is too young to be on the crew but sits at the shop sometimes. She is practical and clever, often outwitting opponents instead of fighting them. she has mid-length dark brown hair and wears a bright yellow under-dress with a purple overdress and layered scarves for belts. she likes attaching shiny things to her scarves.

bruno is a deckhand and brianna’s big brother, he originally joined the crew, having worked with harry on the docks and being familiar with uma and the chip shop. he can come across as a little high-strung at first, but he is also deeply protective of the people he cares about, which includes both of his sisters. he, like brianna, dresses in yellow and purple, usually with a black leather waistcoat. neither bruno nor brianna live aboard the ship, instead they live with their parents in the town.

rafael is another of the dock-runners turned deckhand, he joined the crew in order to seek out treasure and adventure, but he doesn’t live on the ship. he has a shack off the docks where he lives with his father and his younger sister, rebecca, 15. he is one of the under gunners on the ship, taking his orders from gil and gonzo and he prefers to spend his time high up in the rigging, looking for enemies. he’s a fast runner and is often the one chosen to deliver high-importance messages around the isle as he’s considered to be trusted. in order to better blend in on the streets and not be easily identified as a pirate, rafael wears plainer clothing than most, usually in shades of brown and black. but he does like to add a pop of colour with a scarf belt or bandana.

octar is the child of a member of the hun army, they joined the crew as deckhand, but it was quickly learned that they have a lot of musical talent and so they are often the one leading the crew in shanties, or playing the music during ‘family’ nights (often accompanied by uma, harry and/or gil). they live aboard the ship but sometimes take days off to visit their home and their younger brother uldric. they identify as non-binary and often wear brightly coloured, loose fitting clothing.

min is one of the non-human members of the crew. he is part siren, but was kicked out of his family home for identifying as aro-ace and showing no desire for romantic or sexual relationships. he has a fully human half sister named victoria whom he lives with, they both tend to a shoe store in the market, min is a talented cobbler who makes a living patching up and selling the holey shoes that get sent over from auradon. he and victoria usually have competitions to see who can fix the most shoes in a day. he is also an excellent locksmith and key-cutter, but those dealings are likely to be under-the-table. he also likes to weak understated clothes, browns and whites are his colour pallet of choice.

different verses may also have other members of the crew, but these are the ones that are going to be referred to most frequently.

[skimblyshanks]

CATS Pokemon AU

Made with help from @roxycake and @whitmerule

This is. Definitely not set within any proper game continuity. I’m picking and choosing my favorite aspects from the mainline games regardless of region. Technically, this is located in Galar, but it uses traditional gym challenge-Elite 4 format, and trainer classes that don’t appear in gen VIII, along with a different set of gym leader types. Also, contests and battle subways are here bc those were the shit.

**While I had help w/ categorizing characters and their types, I have headcanons that differ from those of the ppl who helped give input. I’m gonna try and not define relationships in this post, but if I do more with this, then I’m working with my own headcanons/ships/etc. If anyone wants to do anything with this that differs, go ahead!

Main 3 trainers+their partner pokemon:

Jemima-Fletchling

A cyclist-class trainer

Electra-Toxel

A dancer-class trainer

George-Tyrogue

A young, hiker-class trainer

Gym Leaders:

Etcetera-Bug

A friend of the main 3; she invites them to her gym as their first challenge. She was probably holding back during the gym battles with the 3, but don’t tell anyone.

Jennyanydots-Normal

A matronly but stern, disciplined trainer who has held her title for decades. She runs the gym next door to the pokemon school, and offers the students free time to practice and train with their pokemon.

Plato-Ground

A talented trainer who all the same doesn’t like his position as a trainer of ground types. He takes his loss as an excuse to begin training in Etcetera’s gym.

Pouncival-Flying

Another young gym leader. the trio first met him while taking a flying taxi between towns, as he’s also a cabbie. He’s got an unsinkable personality, and appears deceptively oblivious. He knows his way around flying-type pokemon, and he’s not one to overlook.

Rum Tum Tugger-Electric

A dazzling and maybe slightly overconfident leader who’s one of the newest to his title. He’s also well known in the Contest World, as he got his real start as a wildly successful coordinator. There’s his pikachu, too. People are obsessed with his pikachu.

Victoria-Ice

A figure skater as well as a gym leader. Her gym is sleek and elegant; balance and dexterity are musts to even reach her spot. Don’t be fooled by her gym’s cold presentation, though; if there were ever a trainer more excited than Pouncival to experience a wide variety of challengers, it’s her.

Coricopat and Tantomile-Psychic

Better be ready to see double. Sometimes they move in sync, mirroring each other’s attacks perfectly; other times, they’ll wipe you off your feet by acting beyond prediction. Can they really see your next move? Have they simply been doing this too long to be surprised? Yes.

Mistoffelees-Fairy

Are you put off by people who simultaneously view you as inferior while also lacking proper self confidence of their own? Good luck making it through a battle against Mistoffelees. A highly capable trainer, he’s still a bit uncomfortable with his position as gym leader. Most people wouldn’t pick up on this though, as he makes quick work of them.

Elite 4:

Bombalurina-Fire

A passionate and ruthless trainer, Bomba has dedicated her life to cultivating a team that’s always ready to win.

Alonzo- Water

A laid-back, casual, young researcher more interested in swimming and surfing than paperwork. He’ll disarm you with his sweet-talk and inviting demeanour, then hit you like a tidal wave.

Cassandra-Dragon

An elegant, intimidating force to be reckoned with, her battle style mixes beauty with ferocity. Don’t worry about being tricked into security, if you feel at all on her level, you’re likely over-confident.

Demeter-Poison

A former member of Team Enigma and a steadfast ally to the main trio. She gave Electra her Toxel when it was just an egg, and has an Amped Toxtricity as her own partner. Demeter is a genuinely kind soul. Her drive to empower young trainers has kept her in The Elite 4 for some time, and she doesn’t plan on giving that up any time soon. She won’t hold back in battle, but she does, notably, avoid status-changing attacks.

Champion

Munkustrap

Smart, kind, powerful, and stressed, Munkustrap has been a familiar face to the trio, much like Demeter. He’s honestly eager to be usurped, ready to step back and re-evaluate his goals in life.

Former Elites/Champion:

Director Gus-Dragon/Rock

Former member of the Elite Four, he has returned to his true passion of theatre, owning and maintaining a space in Wyndon. He’s also a frequent judge at contests.

Grizabella-Steel

A former league champion, she has since retired to The Crown Tundra. In her time away from the league she has journeyed to multiple regions, and has many pokemon foreign to the Galar region.

Professor Deuteronomy-Grass

Former member of the Elite Four, he left the league after a few years, drawn instead to pokemon research. Understanding the root cause of type distinctions has become his life’s work. Of his recent experiments, he has been testing type determination in-egg through gene splicing and nesting conditions.

OTHERS

Skimbleshanks-Battle Metro Boss

Currently overseeing the Battle Metro, Skimble is under pressure to keep attendance up as people have begun migrating to other battle spots. Unlike other rail workers, he does not specialize in steel or ground types, instead holding a roster of largely Normal and flying pokemon.

Jellylorum-Pokemon breeder

You can find her in a quiet corner of Wyndon, nearby Director Gus’ theatre. She runs a daycare and a breeding center.

Tumblebrutus-Research Assisstant.

A friend of the main 3 and frequent conduit to Professor Deut. He checks in at irregular intervals.

Bustopher Jones-Gentleman

A jolly, round man who likes to frequent cafes, and take picnics on the countryside.

Team Enigma

Macavity-Dark/ghost

The leader of Team Enigma, Macavity is a criminal mastermind hellbent on stealing Deuteronomy’s research on type distinctions, and exploiting it for his own benefit. He has no particular worldwide aspirations beyond expanding his realm of influence, but while he’s no mere thug, that doesn’t mean he isn’t a brutal fighter.

Henchcats-Poison/Dark

The Henchcats are Enigma grunts. They’re easy enough to best once you’ve figured out their routine, but they always fight in pairs. Macavity expects many of his grunts to use poison types for their status-changing attacks.

Jerrie and Teazer-Poison

Notable grunts who seem to have reservations about their job. The two appear to genuinely enjoy battling the trio, and, unlike many grunts, seem to have connections beyond Team Enigma. 

Other Notes

Jellylorum, Jennyanydots, Skimbleshanks, and Bustopher Jones are all childhood friends, and are still in touch. They are currently raising 4 Skwovet siblings between them all.

Many gym leaders also work with Professor Deuteronomy to study type distinctions.

Personally, I see the main 3 (+Etcetera and Pounce) as middle/older teens; 15 at the youngest. If the player character in the games can wait until age 12 to even get a pokemon when there are preschoolers battling pokemon, these three can be older teens who decided one day that they wanna go on a journey across the region.

[gloves94]

Kingdom of the Sun [Fire Lord Zuko] 1

Story Warnings: Violence, NSFW, Smut Chapter Warnings: None Rating: M Pairings: Zuko/OC Summary:  It has been three years since the end of the war. Fire Lord Zuko has his Empire to reconstruct and multiple assassination attempts to worry about. Across the sea Tsai is occupied with the Restoration Movement in the new Republic of Nations. Together they must: define their relationship, push some boundaries, bring down a dangerous enemy and most importantly work together to restore order and prosperity to this new world. Kingdom of the Sun MASTERLIST Last Airbender MASTERLIST My MASTERLIST

- SEQUEL to: SUNBURN . You don’t have to read Sunburn to enjoy this story, but if you want go ahead. - This story is loosely based on the ATLA comics, so don’t read if you don’t want spoilers. No Korra spoilers since I haven’t watched it myself.

AN: Woo!! We are finally here. I’m really excited about this story (also kind of very nervous, it’s going to be pretty different from Sunburn so let me know how I do!) I’m almost done writing it and it should be about 10 chapters long or so.

xxxxxx

Zuko lay awake in his bed.

It was a cold night despite the spring season that graced the Fire Nation's capital. He let out a miserable long sigh before turning to face the empty side of the bed. It was then that a rustling behind the bedroom’s maroon curtains nearby caught his attention.

Paranoid, he quickly sat up glaring in the direction where he could've sworn, he heard an intruder's movements. His eyes scanned the darkness of the room, heart at his throat as he held his breath waiting for his attacker to show.

It was then that he felt it, the blade pressing tightly across his neck. It seemed the assassin had finally gotten to him. His body was stiff for a moment before relaxing into the knife. He let out a deep breath and allowed the blade to take him…

Xxx

Zuko awoke alone and cold still heaving from his night terror. His eyes danced around the room fearfully scanning every possible nook, cranny and hiding place for an assassin. He sat up and ran a hand through his sweaty bangs pushing them back, catching his shaking breath. It wouldn't be the first time somebody broke into his room and tried to pull a stunt like that…

He exhaled a sharp breath and again collapsed back on his pillow. He couldn't believe he had caved into the assassin's blade like that. It had only been a dream, but still... For a moment he had forgotten his will to exist. After all, did anything matter? Every day was the same over worked routine of a Fire Lord having inherited a monarchy on the verge of a colonial disunion and at the end of a lost war. Not to mention the frequent assassination attempts he had to endure from the New Ozai Society. A group of loyal members of the Fire Nation mainland who were still supportive of his father and wanted to see Zuko dead and off the throne. But worst of all was that he had never felt as alone as he did now… He was cold, alone, unhappy… Did anything really matter?

His eyes turned to look at the painting he had framed next to his bed. It had been the last painting that him and Tsai had gotten. He wore his royal garments and head piece, she sat next to him hugging his arm. It had been painted that day the two saw “Love Amongst the Dragons,” the last time they saw each other...

He missed her. He needed her in his life now more than ever.

He dreaded the morning that was to come. He already knew he had a mountain of work to do, but the worst part about it were the Fire Sages. He did not want to be in the same room with a handful of them and a dozen of elite Fire Nation women who were all considered 'fit' female suitors eligible enough to one day take seat next to him as the Lady of the Throne.

"Will you be making your decision today Fire Lord Zuko?" One of the Sages had inquired hiding its hands in his sleeves. It had been weeks now and all those old crones did was pressure him into seeing these girls.

Traditionally Fire Sage's were the advisors to the crown and all royal marriages were arranged. However, considering there was no former Fire Lord in power to order such decree no such arrangements could be made.

His eyes glazed over the nervously fidgeting dark haired women before him. Some looked awfully nervous, others giggled at the situation hiding their blushing smiles before waving fans.

He was silent, his eyes boring ahead.

"I already know the one for me."

Xxx

"Wake up!" A loud voice shouted.

"Wake uuuup!" The voice repeated in an even louder tone.

Tsai lay exhausted and alone in her bed. She let out a grown and pulled the sheets over her head. "Get out of my room Mecha!" She shouted loudly at her older sibling. However, he had no mercy, he ripped the covers off her waking her up.

She glared at her brother upset.

"You overslept, again." He said with his arms crossed over his chest. The scarred man glared down at her. "This isn't like you," he said frowning slightly.

She ran a hand through her messy hair in hope of taming it down a little. "I was up late last night," she grumbled. "Has there been another bombing? Another protest?" She asked more accustomed to being awoken due to the sporadically protest of the Anti Revolutionary Movement that was against the independence of the Fire Nation’s colonies.

"Oh yeah?" He challenged arching an eyebrow, ignoring her questions. "Doing uber important things like midnight snacking or writing sad poetry about your ex-boyfriend?"

"Out!" She roared throwing her pillow in his direction.

He caught it with ease. "Be ready." He said cooly sounding like their over-bearing mother and throwing it back in her direction with all of his strength making her slightly jerk back.

She sighed hugging the pillow and hunching her shoulders over. It had been three years since the One Hundred Year War was over and since the Fire Nation colonies had been liberated, and lot had happened since then. Ever since, her family had renounced to all of their royal titles, after all the Vice-Royal Colony of Yu Dao was no more. Instead now this territory belonged to the sovereignty of the United Republic of Nations. After losing his position her father had become… She didn't even want to think about it. Thankfully, her mother had forgiven her for everything that she had done during the time of war and her family now focused on running the United Republic of Nation's first newspaper. She did that and also working as an ambassador for the young nation, attempting to solve the thriving nation's issues a strong leader of the post-war restoration movement.

She had also ended her brief relationship with Zuko. You think dating is hard, imagine when your ex-boyfriend is the Fire Lord? She let out an exhausted breath and looked up to see the painted portrait of the two of them that hung on her wall. It was small and simple, her red head and broad cheesy smile standing out as she hugged onto his arm. He wore a smile as well and wore his hair down and wasn't wearing his royal robes. He was like she remembered him, he was simply Zuko, he wasn't his Lordness. She couldn’t even remember when they had gotten that painted. It had been a little more than a year since their breakup and she missed him dearly…

Dating of course had been an option but nobody had come close to filling the void she felt inside when she thought of him. She would never admit it out loud but a part of her was miserable without him in her life.

She missed him.

The memory of their breakup still fresh, she shook her head and clapped her cheeks lightly hoping to smack some sense into herself and push that depressing memory back in the attic of her brain. She didn't want to think about what had happened in the Dragon Catacombs the last time she had been in the Main- in the Fire Nation. She corrected herself.

Xxx

"Aang! Katara!" Tsai stood in what was now the former palace's tearoom as she welcomed her friends. She embraced Aang and then Katara tightly. She had been happy to have kept in contact with them after the war. Katara was usually traveling between the Republic of Nations and the South Pole to visit her family, so they would see each other whenever she was in town. Aang was pretty much the same, except his travels were more worldly, after all, he was the Avatar. The bridge in between all nations as well as humans and the Spirit World. Tsai's mother had arranged for an elaborate tea party for just her children and their two friends. It was very over the top with teas, pastries and decorations, but then again, that was just the type of woman she was.

"It's so great to see two!" She said. Her brother greeted them both with a rough hug and took a seat next to his sister.

Aang was taller, fitter, and looked more mature. However, he was still his same goofy self and wore his nation's symbolic colors of yellow, ochre and orange in traditional robes. Katara had grown to be even more beautiful, her hair was longer, and she still wore her trade mark hair loopies. The two of them had been inseparable and had started dating at the end of the war and were still together. Distance and other factors not str Tsai poured a brewed floral tea and the four made idle talk catching about what the most recent news in town were, trending restaurants, theater, each other travels and what not.

"So, we've come with news!" Aang said excitedly shifting on his seat. He hadn't even touched his tea. Katara smiled at him lovingly and hugged his arm taking his hand in her own. "Shall we tell them together sweetie?"

Tsai arched an eyebrow, she mentally gagged at Katara's pet name for her boyfriend. Yikes, those two were so sappy. She took a sip from her tea to hide her smile.

They spoke loudly in unison. She wasn't sure if she had heard right. She was only aware of the sacred sin she had just committed. She spit out her tea in surprise spraying the couple before her who were overjoyed and simply laughed at her surprised reaction.

"Congrats!" Mecha stood up from his seat and walked around the table to give the couple a congratulatory pat in the back.

Tsai still sat stunned unsure of how to process the news.

AANG AND KATARA WERE GETTING MARRIED? Was Aang a child bride? Sure, he was now past sixteen, the customary marriage age, but really what was the rush? She shifted uncomfortably in her seat before realizing she had to say something to them.

"Congratulations!" She said sincerely excited going around the table and hugging the both of them again. "Katara, let me see your necklace!" She said inquiring about the engagement jewelry that Aang had made for her. It was a traditional Water Tribe necklace that had carved the Air Nomad's symbol in the middle. It was very cute.

"We'll be sending invitations out soon, but we wanted to tell you two in person." Aang explained.

"We were both very moved by your family," Katara began. "I know it's not usual for people to have interracial marriages, but when I saw your family- Your mother being from the Earth Kingdom and your father's side being from the Fire Nation. I saw what my future with Aang would be like." She said once again hugging his arm, he smiled at her and kissed the top of her head.

Both siblings noted how she mentioned her "father's side" and not the monster himself but said nothing.

"We are getting married here in the Republic of Nations. However, Gran Gran is getting a little too old for travel so we're having a ceremony in the Southern Water Tribe and we'd love for you two to come!" Katara beamed.

xxx

"You have to go." Her brother insisted chasing after her as they walked back to the dining room where they would now be joining their mother for dinner. "No. I don't. I have work." She barked back; fists clenched at her sides. "No," he drawled out stepping around her stopping her walk. "I'm staying so you can go. Besides, you already agreed. You can't back out now."

Tsai glared at her older brother; he could be such a pest sometimes. "I only said that to be polite!"

"Come on," She lowered her shoulders her brown eyes meeting her brother's forest green ones. "I look like crap- and well you know he's going to be there."

She said referring to Zuko, a thought that made her stomach twist nervously at the thought of seeing him again.

"So? Are you scared of him?" Her brother scoffed. "What's the worst that can happen?"

She remained silent.

"Who knows," he began moving out of her path. "You know he is married to his work, just like you. Odds are maybe he won't even show," Mecha said optimistically.

'Maybe… Just maybe he was right?'

next: https://gloves94.tumblr.com/post/624849870080131072/kingdom-of-the-sun-firelord-zuko-2

[j-crawley]

1OO IMPORTANT CHARACTER QUESTIONS

PART 1: THE BASICS

What is your full name? James Crawley

Where and when were you born? London, England in 1875

Who are/were your parents? (Know their names, occupations, personalities, etc.) James’ sire’s name is Isabelle. He also recognises her as his mother because his birth parents were killed before he could remember. Isabelle is an ancient vampire who is over four thousand years old and is one of the few who kept herself out of the supernatural wars when they were waged across the earth. 

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? The only ‘siblings’ he has are the other vampires Isabelle has sired throughout her life, of which there are four others. He has only met two of this four. 

Where do you live now, and with whom? Describe the place and the person/people. Krovs Town and with his cats. 

What is your occupation? Police officer

Write a full physical description of yourself. You might want to consider factors such as: height, weight, race, hair and eye color, style of dress, and any tattoos, scars, or distinguishing marks. Blonde hair, blue eyes. 6″1, 165lbs, Caucasian. Dresses smart most of the time. He enjoys fashion and being stylish and tends to keep it tasteful and less over-the-top. No tattoos or scars.

To which social class do you belong? James was born to a family in the middle class and Isabelle brought him up to the age of thirteen accordingly. Isabelle herself is amongst the upper class and she introduced him to that life after he was turned. 

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? Being a dhampir (half-vampire, half-human), James is the weakest of the vampire hybrids and is susceptible to the weakness of his species. Other than that, he has no allergies or diseases.

Are you right- or left-handed? Left handed.

What does your voice sound like? (link)

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? “Oh dear.”

What do you have in your pockets? Notebook, pen, vials of feline blood.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? James is a clean freak and is very particular about the cleanliness of his own space.

PART 2: GROWING UP

How would you describe your childhood in general? James had a pleasant childhood with Isabelle until she disappeared when he was about thirteen years old. The trauma of losing his parental figure had him becoming obsessed with finding her ‘killer’.

What is your earliest memory? Reading a children’s book with Isabelle.

How much schooling have you had? He studied hard enough and went through the proper education system to become a constable in Scotland Yarad and eventually a detective.

Did you enjoy school? Of course. James enjoys learning and he considers his university days some of the best of his life, even if it happened quite a long time ago for him.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? He leaned a lot about life from John, his mentor who took him in after Isabelle’s disappearance. His deductive skills were picked up through a mix of John’s training, school and his various stints as a police officer/detective in various towns. His skills as a vampire were mostly learned from Isabelle.

While growing up, did you have any role models? If so, describe them. Isabelle and John.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? James gets along very well with those he considers his family.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? James wanted to become a police officer since the age of thirteen.

As a child, what were your favorite activities? Reading, collecting insects. The latter of which is something he grew out of.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? Curiosity, dutiful, cheerful, generous, polite, extraversion.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? James was quite focused on his studies when he was a child and his only friend was John until he went to university. He started making more friends at university where he found himself amongst those who were in the high society and made a lot of connections that way. 

When and with whom was your first kiss? He got drunk with his university friends on a night out at a men’s social club and kissed a man named Thomas in secret. They started an affair before he met his eventual wife, Elizabeth, and he decided that he needed to settle down with her as society deemed a man should.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? No. He lost it to the same man in the previous answer.

If you are a supernatural being (i.e. mage, werewolf, vampire), tell the story of how you became what you are or first learned of your own abilities.  Read all about it here.

PART 3: PAST INFLUENCES

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Being turned into a dhampir.

Who has had the most influence on you? Isabelle.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Finding Isabelle again.

What is your greatest regret? He sometimes wonders what his human life would’ve been like had he not been turned. 

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? After becoming a dhampir, James has taken the law into his own hands and killed a number of times when the authorities would not do what he believed they needed to. As a law-abiding person, these actions went against his moral code and he considers them ‘evil’ in a way.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? No. He lived in a time when being gay was illegal, but he was never caught for having an affair with a man.

When was the time you were the most frightened? When he almost killed his wife and son when he lost control. It was what spurred him to leave them.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? Elizabeth catching him with Thomas about a year into their marriage. James was still in love with Thomas but had to ultimately end things with him for his family. It was both embarrassing and heartbreaking.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? He wishes that he had gone to visit his wife before she died, but he had been too afraid of how she would react and so he stayed away. He considers himself a coward because of this.

What is your best memory? The birth of his son - Johnathan.

What is your worst memory? Visiting his elderly son on his deathbed and having Johnathan recognise him and hate him for leaving. This was James’ first experience of losing someone mortal and it served as a harsh reminder of his very immortal life.

PART 4: BELIEFS & OPINIONS

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Mostly an optimist.

What is your greatest fear? Losing control and killing an innocent.

What are your religious views? James would consider himself spiritualist and his faith is very personal to him.

What are your political views? James is heavily influenced by Isabelle’s stance on not siding with the current ruling power - the Vampires - even if he is one himself. 

What are your views on sex? Over the years, he has learned to loosen up when it comes to sex. Having grown up in a time that was more puritanical, it took a long while, despite Isabelle’s more liberal views on sex and sexuality, before James was able to view the act as something fun to engage in -- especially gay sex.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? Yes. Being half-vampire, the desire to kill is always there but James keeps that urge on a tight leash. He has killed in the past (see answer in P3) when he felt that he had no choice.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Harming children in any way.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? Leaning undecided to no.

What do you believe makes a successful life? Happiness and sense of purpose.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? This actually depends on who James is speaking to. He’s usually more guarded and would put on a mask when he is with other vampires, but who’s to know if that mask is actually a part of him too?

Do you have any biases or prejudices? He would like to think not.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? James refuses to drink the blood of humans and other supernatural creatures because it turns him into something he does not like. It is why he only drinks animal blood.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? He hasn’t thought about this...

PART 5: RELATIONSHIPS W/OTHERS

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? In general, James is very polite and friendly to everyone he meets.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? At the moment, it’s his cats.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? Isabelle. She taught him a lot about the world and he is forever grateful for that.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. James has many friends in all the places he has lived in, but due to having to move around often, there are not many that he would consider best friends.

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. His wife passed away in the early-1900s and he has not married again ever since. While James has had a few lovers after that, there are not many that he could consider particularly significant.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. Yes. James met and fell in love with his university friend, Thomas, and started an affair with him. This was highly illegal at the time, but they continued the affair until after James got married. It ended when James’ wife found out about them. James was more in love with Thomas than he was with Elizabeth and she knew this.

What do you look for in a potential lover? Someone he can be at ease and be himself with.

How close are you to your family? He is still very close to Isabelle, the only family he has left.

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? James had a wife and son, both of whom have passed on in present day. He has not settled down again since.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? Isabelle.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? Isabelle. While he lives his life separate from her, she still keeps tabs on him and James trusts her to look out for him if it ever came down to it.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? Isabelle.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? The closest is probably Izaak because the man killed his birth parents. But James rationalises that he never knew his birth parents and Izaak is like a brother to Isabelle, and so he has somewhat forgiven him.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? James tends to avoid conflict and will only argue if absolutely necessary.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? Only if there is no one else to do so. James prefers to follow.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? James enjoys socialising because people intrigue him, even if he keeps them at arms length. 

Do you care what others think of you? Yes, he actually does because of the time period he grew up in. He has loosened up a lot more over the last few decades but it’s not something he can easily put out of his mind.

PART 6: LIKES & DISLIKES

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? Reading. Cleaning. Spending time with his cats.

What is your most treasured possession? His first edition copy of A Study in Scarlet that Isabelle gifted to him when he was a child. Crime novels were all the rage during the Victorian Era and these books were also what spurred him to become a police officer.

What is your favorite color? Light green.

What is your favorite food? Before becoming a dhampir, one of James’ favourite bakes was the Spotted Dick.

What, if anything, do you like to read? Crime fiction.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? A good book. (Are you sensing a pattern here yet?) He enjoys films from time to time but strongly prefers the written word.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? He smokes occasionally because he finds the act of it enjoyable. As an immortal there is little point in quitting.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? He alternates between going to a bar to meet new people and staying at home on Saturday nights. This is something that he has yet to do in Krovs Town.

What makes you laugh? His cats.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Rude and disrespectful people.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? James is usually very good at finding something to occupy his mind with. If he were burdened with insomnia, he would use the time to 

How do you deal with stress? James stress cleans.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? He can be spontaneous on occasion but takes comfort in knowing that he usually has a plan.

What are your pet peeves? Being micromanaged.

PART 7: SELF IMAGES & OTHER

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? Wakes up, feeds his cats, showers, gets dressed while having his breakfast, heading to work. Comes home, feeds his cats, eats, extracts blood from one of his cats, showers again, gets ready for bed. He does not like his morning routine being messed with but he will roll with the punches anyway.

What is your greatest strength as a person? Being able to anticipate another’s needs.

What is your greatest weakness? His fear of not being able to be in control of his vampiric half.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? To be less conflict-averse. He feels like he could achieve a lot more but he really does not like being pushed into conflict.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? He can swing between both, whereby he is generally extroverted but still values his alone time.

Are you generally organized or messy? Organized.

Name three things you consider yourself to be very good at, and three things you consider yourself to be very bad at. Good: Small talk, powers of deduction, reading people. Bad: Cooking, singing, dancing. ((ooc: LOL what even!))

Do you like yourself? Most of the time.

What are your reasons for being an adventurer (or doing the strange and heroic things that RPG characters do)? Are your real reasons for doing this different than the ones you tell people in public? (If so, detail both sets of reasons…) James takes his role as a police officer and servant to the people very seriously. He is someone who tends to wear his heart on his sleeve when it comes to this subject as well, so what he usually says what he means when asked about his profession.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? James does not have a far-reaching goal. He is mostly focused on his job and doing it well for whatever community he is serving.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Hopefully still living in Krovs Town.

If you could choose, how would you want to die? Peacefully.

If you knew you were going to die in 24 hours, name three things you would do in the time you had left. Make sure his cats are taken care of. Other than that, James is actually happy to spend his last moments with himself.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? James wants to be remembered by how he made others feel.

What three words best describe your personality? Kind, generous, helpful.

What three words would others probably use to describe you? Nice, pushover, slow-on-the-uptake.

If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…) He needs to be a bit selfish and figure out what he wants in life for himself. James is mostly living his life in servitude of others at the moment.

[cinaja]

Before the Wall part 36

Masterlist

TW: hallucinations, alcoholism (sort of, just tagging both to be sure. Which reminds me, if there are any triggers I should tag, please let me know!)

----

The soldiers came in the early hours of the morning. The village was small, with just over two hundred people, most of them farmers since most soldiers had left for the war when it began. The people never stood a chance. It’s a wonder they even managed to get a warning out, but by the time reinforcements arrived from a nearby town, nothing but smoking ruins remained of the village, the corpses of its inhabitants cooling between the debris.

Drakon stands amidst the wreckage and stares at the corpses. If not for him, they might still be alive. Killing them was unnecessary, their deaths benefited no one. No, this is simply Ravenia’s way to make a point, to show the entire world and Drakon especially that she doesn’t tolerate opposition.

“You don’t need to come every time,” Sinna says from where she’s standing next to Drakon.

In the month since his meeting with Ravenia, this is the twelfth village that gets destroyed like this. Ravenia didn’t invade Erithia like Drakon first feared, likely because she didn’t want to spare the soldiers it would need to take and hold an entire territory. So instead of attacking Drakon’s country, she attacked his people, sending small bands of soldiers to destroy and kill as they see fit.

“Yes, I do.” He couldn’t save these people. The least he owes them is to be there to witness their deaths.

Nephelle appears between two houses and walks over to them, face grave.

“How many this time?” Drakon asks.

Ravenia’s soldiers always operate the same way: They destroy every house in the village, except for one. There, they lock up all the village children after they murdered everyone else. So in each village, Drakon’s soldiers find a group of scared children who sometimes spent hours locked in a house after watching their parents get murdered.

“Nine.” Nephelle tries to brush dirt from her left wing but only succeeds in smearing it further. “Four of them have surviving family in other parts of the country.”

Drakon nods. “Please make sure that they get brought to their families. Give the other children to the town magistrate, they are to find foster families for them.”

At least that should be no trouble. Fae children are considered sacred and there has been no lack of families that happily offer to take in a war orphan. Still, Drakon dreads the day when there will be no more volunteers and he’ll have to force families to take in children.

“You should go if you don’t want to be late for your meeting,” Sinna says. “I’ll see to it that the dead get burned with all necessary honours.

Outside of the city, some of his soldiers have already begun to construct a pyre. Drakon usually helps with that and stays until the dead have turned to smoke rising towards the sky, but today, he’s short of time. There is an Alliance council meeting in an hour and he has been trying to attend those more frequently lately. He might still call the meeting off today, but he gave Miryam his word that he’d come.

“Could you tell my ruling council that I want to meet with them in the evening?” Drakon asks. “We need to discuss possible strategies against Ravenia’s soldiers.”

Unfortunately, Drakon doubts that this meeting will be any more successful than the last ones were. They simply don’t have enough soldiers to guard each and every village. Drakon suggested moving the inhabitants of the smaller villages closer to bigger cities where they would have more protection, but few people would be willing to abandon their homes. Besides, as several of his councilmembers informed him, the villages are largely responsible for Erithia’s agriculture, so telling their people to flee to the cities would likely lead to famines on the long run.

But maybe today, they’ll find a solution. Drakon has lots of very smart people working for him, he’s sure one of them will come up with something. He has to believe it.

He says goodbye to Sinna, who is already busy giving orders to her soldiers, and winnows back to their camp to change into something more presentable. However, when he enters his tent, he finds Miryam sitting on his bed. Before he has the chance to speak, she jumps to her feet and hugs him.

“I just heard,” she says softly. “How many?”

“Over two hundred.” His voice shakes, but there’s no one but Miryam to hear, so he doesn’t try to steady himself.

“I’m so sorry.” Miryam lets go of him, but keeps her hand resting on his arm. “They spared the children again?”

Drakon nods, thinking that the Loyalists never spare human children when they sack their villages. Even when the Loyalists commit crimes of war and slaughter innocents, they still treat humans and Fae differently.

“The council won’t send any help, will it?” He asks.

“Erithia isn’t the only Fae country that’s getting attacked,” Miryam says, “With how the war is developing, I doubt any one will be able to spare much help, if any.” She presses her lips together. “We’ll be lucky if none of them leave the Alliance.”

After Ravenia started her attack on Erithia, it only took a few weeks for the other Loyalist countries to take up the tactic. Widespread belief in the Alliance has it that the Ravenia hopes to frighten them into submission, although Miryam told Drakon that she doesn’t believe that Ravenia ever planned for her strategy to be copied. Either way, the strategy to scare the Alliance seems to work.

“I ought to change clothes if we don’t want to be late,” Drakon says, changing the subject.

Miryam nods and turns her back to him to give him some privacy. Drakon begins to open the straps of his armour. “And how are you?” He asks.

She shrugs. “I just had another discussion with Mor. She told me I should leave Jurian.”

“Again?” That would be the third time already.

“Yep.” Even with her back turned to him, Drakon can imagine Miryam making a face at the tent’s wall. “I appreciate her concern, I truly do. But it’s just… I told her I’m fine.”

“And you are?” Miryam starts to turn around, then seems to remember that Drakon is just changing clothes and stops mid-motion. “Not about Jurian,” Drakon clarified quickly. So far, he very purposefully stayed out of Miryam’s relationship with Jurian. He doesn’t really have a right to comment on that, given his situation. “I just meant…” He meant that Miryam looks terrible and it’s getting worse with each day. “Things with your powers are fine, aren’t they? You’ve got it under control?”

He reaches for a dark coat a servant already prepared for him and puts it on.

“You don’t need to worry,” Miryam says, face still turned to the wall. “Things are just a little stressful at the moment, but it’s alright.”

Drakon hesitates, torn between knowing that he should accept her answer and worry that there might be something she isn’t telling him. She really doesn’t look well. But of course, with how the war is going lately, there are a thousand perfectly normal explanations. And at the end of the day, if Miryam says it’s alright, he doesn’t get to contradict her.

“Good,” he says, tightening the last button of his jacket. “I’m done. You can turn back around.”

----

Sitting in the council’s meeting chamber, Miryam does her best to ignore the shadows dancing through the room. They curl and twist around each other, occasionally forming humanoid figures. They whisper in voices Miryam can’t understand, which is beyond irritating given that she is actually supposed to be paying attention to the meeting.

For three hours, they have been arguing. The Fae countries are getting attacked, but instead of looking for a productive solution, they seem content to complain and argue with each other. Twice already did one of them hint at wanting to leave the war behind. Of course, the humans aren’t amused at all by this discussion – after all, they have been dealing with what the Fae are now facing ever since the war began and most of them have little patience for their complaints. She can imagine how Jurian would react if he had chosen to come along.

Miryam has been trying to keep the peace ever since the meeting began and she is so tired of it. It’s like some of these Fae realize only now that this is serious. She exchanges a look with Drakon, who shrugs helplessly. Behind him, the shadows keep dancing. Miryam’s head is pounding.

“Lady Miryam,” one of the Fae rulers says, “What is your stance on this?”

Her stance? Her stance is the same as during most meetings: To stop arguing and start working on the problem. Why is it that she always has to stop an argument first before they can start looking for a solution? Damnit, if the council would manage to work together just once, they might have won this war and ended slavery already.

She never had much patience for this, but now that it’s painfully obvious that she’s running out of time, it’s even worse. No one noticed what is wrong with her yet, but Miryam has been seeing the shadows for two weeks now, and with how quickly the hallucinations get worse, she doesn’t know how long she’ll be able to hide it anymore. If the council finds out that she’s slowly losing her mind, she’ll be stripped of her position in a minute and so far, she has no idea who could replace her. Andromache and Zeku would be the most likely candidates, but neither have the necessary backing from the other fraction of the council.

“Lady Miryam?” The Fae repeats.

Miryam looks around the table and realizes that everyone is watching her, waiting. Not only that, they’re clearly expecting her to say something to settle this argument. Wonderful.

“These are difficult times,” she says. “War on the Continent has always followed certain rules. The Loyalists have now broken them.” One of the human Alliance members snorts and Miryam is quick to continue. “They have been breaking them ever since the war began, but so far, no one cared because it only ever went against the human.”

Now, a few of the Fae look displeased. They would rather focus on their own suffering – none of them are particularly interested in hearing that other people have been going through worse for years already.

“I know,” Miryam continues, hoping that she won’t mess this up, “that many people here have been reconsidering their alliance as of late.” She purposefully says people, even though she actually means Fae. “Let this be your final proof that anyone who hopes he can declare neutrality and get out of this fight unscathed will be sorely disappointed. The Loyalists don’t follow Continental codes of honour and should they win, none of us can expect any leniency.” She leans forward in her seat. “It’s time for us all to face the truth,” she says and means that the humans have known it from the beginning. “This isn’t a common war because we don’t have the option to surrender. We either win or we die – Ravenia will allow no other option.”

This is, of course, complete rubbish. Should the Loyalists win, Miryam is nearly certain that the Alliance Fae will be just fine. They might lose parts of their influence, just enough to annoy them, but they won’t be harmed. Ravenia, horrible as she may be, has no interest in enslaving Fae. Even her promise to kill everyone in Erithia was likely an empty threat – should she win, Miryam doubts she would go through with it. Ravenia doesn’t murder Fae unless it benefits her in some way.

But that doesn’t matter. What matter is that the Alliance Fae believe that it is their freedom, their future, at stake. They don’t care enough about the humans to fight this war for them? Then Miryam is simply going to convince them that they are fighting for themselves.

“You don’t have to believe me, of course,” she says and now, she does turn to the Fae side of the room. “You can leave this Alliance right now. Declare neutrality, take your soldiers back to your own country and pray to your gods that the Loyalists will let you be. And maybe they will. But if they don’t – and I can assure you that they won’t – there will be no one left to help you. You will be on your own, and you won’t stand a chance.”

Now, the Fae no longer seem angry, but rather worried. A few of them exchange nervous glances. They actually believe her – maybe because many of them somehow believe that Miryam has some sort of secret knowledge on Ravenia’s plans, or maybe just because she voiced worries they already had.

“But if you don’t want to take your chances on your own,” she says, “then this Alliance is your best hope. And since all of our lives are at stake here, I suggest we finally stop arguing and start working together to win this war.”

The silence that follows is almost tangible. Into it, one of the shadows lets out a shrill laugh and Miryam has to keep from flinching.

“Well,” Andromache says, breaking the silence, “I think that about covers it. If anyone wants to leave. The door is over there.”

A few of the Fae exchange looks again, but none of them move.

“Then perhaps we ought to discuss possible strategies to fight back against the Loyalists,” Zeku says. And that’s what they do.

 By the time the meeting is over, Miryam is about ready to curl up in her bed and sleep for a day. At least the shadows are gone and her power has calmed down considerably, but she’s still tired.

“Miryam?” Andromache puts a hand on her arm. “Can we talk?”

She considers excusing herself, but now that she thinks about it, she isn’t all too eager to go back to her camp. “Sure,” she says.

Andromache leads her past the official meeting rooms and up a flight of stairs. The guards posted along the corridors incline their heads as they walk past.

“Where are we going?” Miryam asks.

“My quarters. They offer a little more privacy.”

All of the queens have their private quarters in the palace in Telique, since the human queens spent almost as much time there as in their own kingdoms. The close connection between the human kingdoms has always been frowned upon by the Fae, but the humans’ precarious situation on the Continent has made it necessary to stick together.

Andromache’s kingdom owns an entire floor in the palace’s left wing. She herself lives in a small suite of interconnecting rooms when she is here. Two guards open the door for them; Andromache leads Miryam to the living room, dismisses her servants and walks over to the cupboard.

“Do you want wine?” She asks, then shakes her head. “No, wait, you don’t drink. Water, then?”

“Yes, please.” Andromache hands her a glass and Miryam smiles. “Thank you.”

The queen lets herself plop down on a sofa and gestures for Miryam to take a seat. “Quite the meeting. Do you think your little trick will work?”

Miryam shrugs. “We’ll know soon enough.”

If it didn’t work, it will likely cost them this war. With the Loyalists now attacking civilians, many Alliance countries will find the cost of the war too high. If they believe they can get away with it, they’ll cut their losses and declare neutrality and losing their support would deal the Alliance a huge blow, likely permanently tipping the scales in favour of the Loyalists.

Andromache seems to think the same, because she asks, “Have you gotten any further with the wall?”

“Yes.” Miryam takes a sip from her water to buy herself some time. The spell she’s working on scares her almost as much as the current developments of the war, but for entirely different reasons. “I just need to test the spell I wrote. If it works, I’m done. If not…” She shrugs. “I suppose then I need to start over, I just have no idea where.”

“Then let’s hope it works,” Andromache says gravely.

Miryam nods, feeling terrible about herself. She knows how important this spell is, yet there’s a small part of her that desperately hopes it won’t work. With how her power has been acting lately, she has now idea how she’s supposed to get through a spell this powerful. Chances are she won’t be able to do it.

“Is this what you wanted to talk about?” She asks, hoping to change the subject.

“Well.” Andromache takes a sip from her wine. “Not entirely. Mor asked me to talk to you, you see.”

“Ah.” Miryam sighs. It seems like today, the world wants to make her deal with all of her least favourite topics today. “This again.”

She already had this argument with Mor thrice. Apparently, Mor now got the idea that she would be more inclined to listen to Andromache. Too bad for her, since Miryam has no inclination to discuss this matter again.

“I know this annoys you,” Andromache says quickly. “And believe me, the last thing I want to do is to stick my nose into your private matters. But Mor worries about you, and quite frankly, so do I.”

“I already told Mor: I’m fine.”

“Have you by chance looked into a mirror lately?” Andromache asks.

Yes, Miryam has and she knows fully well how terrible she looks. Mostly sleepless nights have made her eyes permanently lined with shadows. She also lost weight – not because she doesn’t eat, she does, but her power combined with the stress seem to burn through any food too quickly for her to keep up. Her face has grown thinner, almost gaunt, making her look older than her twenty-three years.

If she’s being honest, she can’t entirely blame Mor and Andromache for being worried. She just doesn’t like the conclusion they come to.

“Five years of war,” she says. “Thousands of dead people and still no end in sight. And you think the reason why I look unwell is Jurian?”

“No, of course not.” Andromache sighs. “But something is clearly wrong, and it’s not just the war. And forgive me for saying it, but it is hardly a secret that things between Jurian and you have not been going well for quite some time.”

Miryam pointedly looks away. Having trouble in her relationship is bad enough. But with Miryam and Jurian both famous amongst the soldiers, the details of their relationship crises are discussed around campfires throughout the entire Continent. Jurian doesn’t seem overly bothered by it – maybe because his soldiers never repeat the rumours in his presence – but Miryam, who is far more involved in politics, has quite some trouble with those rumours.

“May I ask you a question?” Andromache asks. Miryam nods, even though she fears she might yet regret it. “Do you still love him.”

“Of course,” Miryam replies without missing a beat. What kind of question is this? As if she’d ever stop loving Jurian.

Andromache nods slowly. “And do you enjoy spending time together?”

Miryam looks away. The answer should be as easy as that to the last question, but she can’t quite get herself to say it. “It’s war,” she says, “We have little time to do things that are particularly enjoyable.”

“But do you feel better when you are together?” Andromache presses. “Do you miss him when he’s not around? Does being with him make things more bearable?”

No. The thought stings, but it is true. Spending time with Jurian too often is like walking barefoot over broken glass – no matter how careful you are, you still end up cutting yourself. All of their conversations circle around the war and the slightest mistake leads to an argument. How could this make her feel better? More and more often, she has to force herself to spend time with him, which just makes her feel worse about herself.

“Sometimes love isn’t enough,” Andromache says softly. “If you don’t fit together – “

“But we do fit.”

They’ve been together for the past five years, after all. And they do fit. Nearly perfectly. They understand each other, or they used to, they have the same goals. It’s always been them together against the world. And Jurian is a great person. She loves him, damnit.

“This isn’t forever,” she whispers, “Things are just a little difficult at the moment. With the war and everything…” Her grip around the glass tightens and she has to force her fingers to loosen so that she won’t shatter it. “We’ve been together for five years. I can’t just throw all that away simply because things get a little difficult.”

“You’re unhappy, though.” Andromache delicately sets her wine glass down on the table. “And you have been for quite some time. I simply don’t understand why you insist on remaining in a situation that makes you unhappy.”

“He helped me as well,” Miryam says, “When I couldn’t… He was always there for me.” He isn’t now, but that’s irrelevant. “And now he is the one who needs my help. How could I just abandon him? I need to at least try to…” She shakes her head.

Of course, trying hasn’t really helped much yet. But she doesn’t want to imagine what her leaving would do to Jurian. He’s already so hurt whenever they argue, if she left… No, she can’t do that to him.

“I can’t just abandon him,” she repeats and stares at Andromache until she nods.

----

“We could go to the theatre sometime,” Clythia says, “Watch a play. I don’t like that we’re always meeting in secret – it feels like we’re hiding.”

The stupidity in that sentence alone is enough that Jurian has to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Once again, Clythia seems completely oblivious to the fact that they fight on opposite sides in this war. Not to mention that her side deems people like Jurian less than animals. And she complains about secrecy?

“Maybe when the war is over,” he says as neutrally as possible. “Right now, I don’t think either of our sides would be pleased if we made things public.”

Clythia lets out a bright laugh. “Mara is annoyed enough as it is. She keeps telling me to break up with you, can you imagine? Says I shouldn’t trust you.”

Yes, Jurian actually can imagine that. Unlike her sister, Amarantha seems to possess at least some brain cells, so it’s only logical that she would notice that something’s amiss. Fortunately for Jurian, Clythia isn’t smart enough to listen to her sister.

“Miryam is the same,” Jurian says, feeling terrible about having to make that comparison. “She doesn’t like us meeting either.”

Clythia frowns in answer. “Why do you still bother with her, anyways? She’s as good as dead.”

You are the one who’s as good as dead, and I’m going to be the one to kill you, Jurian thinks, but says, “It’s political,” he lies. “Our relationship is too public, if we break up, there’ll be trouble.”

“She’ll break up with you, though,” Clythia says lightly. “And she’ll die. Something to do with that Fae friend of hers, I think.”

Jurian’s stomach twists. “Drakon?”

Is that another prophecy? And if so, does that mean the future changed, or has it just grown more concrete? He digs his fingers into the grassy ground. He refuses to believe this. It just can’t be true.

“Yes, him.” Clythia grins “Which reminds me, do you have any idea what Ravenia wants with him? Mara keeps coming up with theories about that. She’s very curious about…”

Jurian stops listening to her. He doesn’t particularly care about Ravenia’s interest in Drakon, or any theories Amarantha might have come up with. He can’t stand this, can’t stand any of this. He just wants Clythia and Amarantha dead already. Maybe then, everything could go back to normal. Maybe if they were dead, his life would stop falling apart in his hands.

He manages to endure Clythia and her prattling for a few more minutes before he makes up some reason to excuse himself. She kisses him as a goodbye and he has to clamp down on the urge to gag.

He makes it ten minutes away from the tent before he has to slide off his horse and retch behind a bush. Shaking, he kneels on the ground. His eyes burn, but he refuses to cry. His horse nudges him in the side, presses its warm snout into Jurian’s face. He smiles and runs his fingers through the soft fur, then hoists himself back into the saddle.

Miryam is still awake when Jurian slips into their tent. She’s sitting at the table, papers full of scrawling symbols spread out before her, frowning slightly. When Jurian enters, she looks up. He strolls past her to the cupboard, pulls out a bottle of liquor and takes a deep swig.

Bottle still in hand, he sits down opposite Miryam. She remains silent, waiting for him to speak first. Jurian takes up his bottle again and drains a quarter of it in one go. He holds Miryam’s eyes as he does, daring her to disagree. She doesn’t like when he drinks like this, but when he returns from a meeting with Clythia, she usually lets him.

“No new intel today?” Miryam asks.

Jurian merely takes another swig and shakes his head. Just that you’re still going to die And you’ll leave me. He can’t stand this, none of it. This entire war is killing him.

“You met with Drakon today, didn’t you?” He asks before Miryam can decide to ask after his meeting with Clythia.

“Yes.”

Miryam’s reply is question and answer in one, her tone hesitant like she is worried about what will follow. It occurs to Jurian that he hasn’t shown interest in anything concerning Drakon since their falling out. Miryam did her best to get him to care about the current situation in Erithia, but why would he be particularly interested in one territory when the entire Continent is suffering?

Especially when it concerns Drakon. Jurian thinks back to Clythia’s words. If he’s going to get Miryam killed…

“Don’t you think you’re spending a little too much time with him?” He asks hesitantly.

Miryam straightens. “What do you mean by that?” Any tiredness has vanished from her eyes

“I just…” Jurian fidgets in his seat and takes another sip from his bottle. The alcohol is beginning to set in and his head feels strangely light. The accusing tone in Miryam’s voice annoys him. Why does she insist on meeting with Drakon so often, anyways?

“You spend more time with him than with me,” he says, realizing too late that this makes him sound like a sullen child.

“You can’t be serious.” Miryam shakes her head softly. When Jurian doesn’t reply, she leans back in her seat. “How about you tell me what this is actually about. Now.”

“He’ll get you killed,” Jurian whispers. He doesn’t know why he says it. Maybe it’s a result of the alcohol. Probably. If so, he should take a note from Miryam and stop drinking.

“He’ll what?”

Jurian considers storming out of the tent, but now that he started it, there’s nothing he can do about it anymore. Miryam’s nothing if not determined – she will find out what this is about whether he wants her to or not. He looks down at his hands, unwilling to meet her eyes as he speaks.

“Clythia said that you’d die,” he says haltingly, stumbling over the words. He can’t quite bring himself to say it out loud. “Before the war ends. She says it’s certain.” He pauses. “And she said that Drakon would play a role in it.”

Miryam doesn’t reply. Jurian waits a moment, but then, he can’t take it anymore. The silence becomes unbearable, it presses against him from all sides like a wet blanket. Slowly, he looks up. Miryam doesn’t look half as shocked as he imagined, given that he just told her that she would die. In fact, she looks like she’s far more shocked by his behaviour than by Clythia’s prophecy.

“You don’t believe me,” he says flatly.

“No, I don’t believe Clythia.” Miryam rests her head on her hands. “And quite frankly, I’m stunned that you do. Don’t you think that Clythia – an enemy commander who is obsessed with you and hates me – might have reason to tell you that I’ll die and any relationship between us therefore has no future?”

So it’s not that she doesn’t believe him, she just doesn’t trust his judgement. “She didn’t seem like she was lying.”

“I don’t seem like I’m lying when I’m lying,” Miryam shoots back. “That’s kind of the point.”

This is exactly why Jurian hates arguing with Miryam. Somehow, she always manages to end up making a point that is impossible to argue with. And right now, well, right now, he feels stupid on top of that.

“Aren’t you worried about this at all?” he asks, because he refuses to just let the subject drop.

“I don’t see why I should be.” Miryam shrugs. “The way I see it, Clythia is either lying, in which case I’m fine and don’t need to worry, or she’s telling the truth, in which case I will die and no one is able to do anything about it, so worrying won’t change anything about it.”

Jurian glares down at his feet. He was worried Miryam would freak out, but her indifference bothers him even more. He takes another swig from his bottle, realizing that it is almost empty already. Maybe Miryam really does have a point about his current drinking habits, but the alcohol makes the pain in his chest fade to a dull aching. And he just can’t bear to constantly be in pain.

Miryam sighs. “Let’s face it, Jur,” she says, voice softer than before. “This war is no place for people whose biggest care is their own survival.” She smiles softly. “It’s not that I want to die. Quite the contrary. I’d very much like to see this peace we’re fighting for, and maybe sort my life out somewhere along the way. But if I don’t survive, then I certainly won’t complain as long as we win.”

Wonderful. Now Miryam somehow managed to argue that her own death is acceptable in a way that Jurian can’t even argue with. After all, he feels the same way about his own life.

He drains the last bit of his bottle. His head is pleasantly light now, and his problems seem almost bearable. He peers at the papers on Miryam’s desk. “Is that the wall spell?”

“Yes.” Miryam carefully puts her papers on a stack. “I’ve been working on it all afternoon.”

“Any news?”

That would be some good news for once. And right now, Jurian desperately needs some good news. There’s too much going terribly wrong right now, but maybe if this spell works, things will finally start going right again.

“Yes.” Miryam presses her lips together and Jurian braces for her to tell him that it isn’t going to work. “I’m finished,” Miryam says.

There is such a discrepancy between her words and her tone that it takes Jurian a few moments to understand what she is trying to say. “You’re finished?” He repeats. Miryam nods.

Jurian jumps to his feet. Too quickly. The ground sways under him and he has to grip the table to keep from falling. “Yes.”

He pulls Miryam to her feet and spins her around. She lets out a startled sound, somewhere between laugh and gasp. He pulls her close and kisses her.

“You’re brilliant,” he tells her, “Absolutely brilliant.”

Miryam smiles back at him. She looks tired, but if she spent all day working on the spell, that’s only logical. He kisses her again. Finally some good news – they’ll have to tell the others right away. The sooner they cast the spell the safer they will all be.

Miryam wraps her arms around him. “I love you,” she says softly, “You know that, right?”

“Of course.”

Why does she even need to ask this? They belong together, they always have. Although maybe lately, Jurian has been a bit too busy with the war. But he can’t help that, Miryam should understand. Of course she understands.

“I love you too,” he whispers and pulls her close to him.

----

Tags: @sjm-things @croissantcitysucks

[augustusgreen]

Get to know Augustus, basically his vogue interview.

Part 1: The Basics

What is your full name? August Romeo Green

Where and when were you born? Austin Texas, November 12th.

Who are/were your parents? Tom and Anne Green, both still living but I have gone very low contact.

Do you have any siblings? What are/were they like? No siblings that I am aware of.

Where do you live now, and with whom? I live in a kind of small apartment alone.

What is your occupation? A member of the hospital board.

Write a full physical description of yourself. -  White, 5 foot 10, regular weight, clearly visible muscles, dresses smart casual most of the time.

To which social class do you belong? Middle class.

Do you have any allergies, diseases, or other physical weaknesses? A slight intolerance to gluten. No diseases or physical weaknesses.

Are you right- or left-handed? Left handed.

What does your voice sound like? A little rough around the edges, deep.

What words and/or phrases do you use very frequently? Fuck, shit, damn.

What do you have in your pockets? Keys, wallet, sometimes chewing gum.

Do you have any quirks, strange mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics? I would say no but some would say that my incessant pen clicking is pretty irritating.

Part 2: Growing Up

How would you describe your childhood in general? Not the worst, but most spent time with babysitters as opposed to parents.

What is your earliest memory? Falling off a wall in the play area of an apartment complex we were living in.

How much schooling have you had? All the way to college.

Did you enjoy school? Very much so.

Where did you learn most of your skills and other abilities? Going through life.

While growing up, did you have any role models? Not necessarily.

While growing up, how did you get along with the other members of your family? Got on better with aunts and uncles rather than my parents.

As a child, what did you want to be when you grew up? An astronaut.

As a child, what were your favorite activities? Soccer, karate, baseball.

As a child, what kinds of personality traits did you display? A lot of impulsivity and fearlessness.

As a child, were you popular? Who were your friends, and what were they like? Not overly popular but I had a lot of friends.

When and with whom was your first kiss? A girl called Mabel Arias when we were fourteen.

Are you a virgin? If not, when and with whom did you lose your virginity? No. I lost my virginity in high school at a party.

Part 3: Past Influences

What do you consider the most important event of your life so far? Graduating college ranks pretty high.

Who has had the most influence on you? My tenth grade English teacher.

What do you consider your greatest achievement? Again, graduating college.

What is your greatest regret? Not having a better relationship with my parents.

What is the most evil thing you have ever done? I wouldn’t class anything that I have ever done as evil.

Do you have a criminal record of any kind? None at all.

When was the time you were the most frightened? At the age of four when a tornado hit my town.

What is the most embarrassing thing ever to happen to you? Getting rejected for the high school prom.

If you could change one thing from your past, what would it be, and why? I would try more with my parents.

What is your best memory? Playing in a park with my cousins, I don’t remember it too well, I just remember being the happiest I ever had been.

What is your worst memory? Losing my grandma at the age of sixteen.

Part 4: Beliefs And Opinions

Are you basically optimistic or pessimistic? Optimistic mostly.

What is your greatest fear? The unknown.

What are your religious views? I don’t believe in any higher power but I would like to believe in some kind of afterlife.

What are your political views? I am either here not there, definitely democrat.

What are your views on sex? I love it.

Are you able to kill? Under what circumstances do you find killing to be acceptable or unacceptable? No.

In your opinion, what is the most evil thing any human being could do? Hurt another, or hurt animals.

Do you believe in the existence of soul mates and/or true love? I would like to but I don’t think I do.

What do you believe makes a successful life? A good well rounded education.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings (i.e. do you hide your true self from others, and in what way)? I try to be as open and honest as I possibly can.

Do you have any biases or prejudices? No, I don’t think so.

Is there anything you absolutely refuse to do under any circumstances? Why do you refuse to do it? Drugs, will never do it because drugs are bad.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for (or otherwise go to extremes for)? No one.

Part 5: Relationships With Others

In general, how do you treat others (politely, rudely, by keeping them at a distance, etc.)? Does your treatment of them change depending on how well you know them, and if so, how? I like to treat everyone with respect but will always hold the people I love higher than others.

Who is the most important person in your life, and why? Myself because if you don’t love yourself, you can’t expect anyone else to love you.

Who is the person you respect the most, and why? My grandfather because he worked his entire life.

Who are your friends? Do you have a best friend? Describe these people. I don’t have many friends, the friends that I do have are more acquaintances than anything. 

Do you have a spouse or significant other? If so, describe this person. Nope.

Have you ever been in love? If so, describe what happened. Once, around six years ago, I feel deeply in love and have never loved anyone like it since. It was simultaneously the best and worst feeling in the world, it just didn’t work out.

What do you look for in a potential lover? Humour, kindness and obviously some sort of attraction.

How close are you to your family? Not very.

Have you started your own family? If so, describe them. If not, do you want to? Why or why not? No and I do not want to because of my own parents.

Who would you turn to if you were in desperate need of help? A cousin or one of my aunts.

Do you trust anyone to protect you? Who, and why? Myself.

If you died or went missing, who would miss you? I’m not too sure.

Who is the person you despise the most, and why? I wouldn’t say that I despise anyone.

Do you tend to argue with people, or avoid conflict? Some conflict is healthy.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations? A little.

Do you like interacting with large groups of people? Why or why not? Not necessarily, I find it hard to fit myself in to conversations.

Do you care what others think of you? Not all the time.

Part 6: Likes And Dislikes

What is/are your favorite hobbies and pastimes? Working, reading, drawing.

What is your most treasured possession? A watch from my grandfather.

What is your favorite color? Blue, but like sky blue.

What is your favorite food? Anything that isn’t necessarily healthy.

What, if anything, do you like to read? I like to read anything fiction.

What is your idea of good entertainment (consider music, movies, art, etc.)? A film or a book with a very good plot twist, music with a good beat.

Do you smoke, drink, or use drugs? If so, why? Do you want to quit? I drink but not to excess. No drugs or smoking.

How do you spend a typical Saturday night? If I am not working overtime, I will be at home with my feet up watching tv.

What makes you laugh? People falling over, as long as they’re not too hurt.

What, if anything, shocks or offends you? Nothing in particular.

What would you do if you had insomnia and had to find something to do to amuse yourself? Well.....

How do you deal with stress? As above.

Are you spontaneous, or do you always need to have a plan? I like to have a plan but I can be spontaneous at times.

What are your pet peeves? Rudeness, someone chewing with their mouth open.

Part 7: Self Images And Etc.

Describe the routine of a normal day for you. How do you feel when this routine is disrupted? Getting up around 6am each day, starting with a coffee and then a shower and then work. Come home from work, have another shower and then dinner and then relax. Routine isn’t all that important to me.

What is your greatest strength as a person? Empathy.

What is your greatest weakness? I’m not sure.

If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? My relatioships with others.

Are you generally introverted or extroverted? A little here and there.

Are you generally organized or messy? More in the middle than anything.

Do you like yourself? Yes.

What goal do you most want to accomplish in your lifetime? Find true love.

Where do you see yourself in 5 years? Still doing the same thing.

If you could choose, how would you want to die? Peacefully in my sleep.

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death? My hard work.

What three words best describe your personality? Fun, Kind, Honest.

[mileycyprus-hill]

Bumblebee

Domestic/Papa Arthur

This is a lengthy single-chapter story I decided to write after making the mistake of watching Arthur’s low-honor/high honor deaths when he goes back for the money. It put me in such a terrible mood and I cursed myself for watching it, so I decided to make myself feel better by writing a heart-warming fic. I hope you enjoy it too.

High honor Arthur Morgan x female reader

TB doesn’t exist in this storyline.

———————

For the first year since you both escaped, every night Arthur sufferered night terrors. You’re both long gone from Dutch, Micah, and the Pinkertons, but Arthur still has fear. Fear that turns to panic in the middle of the night while you’re both asleep.

You’re often shaken awake by Arthur gently thrashing on the mattress, holding his arms up as if he’s fending off an attacker. By now, you can figure out what he’s dreaming of. It’s the same nightmare each night: Micah has him pinned to the ground and is pushing the knife closer and closer to his chest. Arthur wakes up in terror right as the knife is plunged in his chest. He clutches at his heart while he pants heavily and blinks his eyes in the darkness. You hold him and give him the same little speech each night this happens: he’s alright, you’re alright, and most importantly...your growing child inside you is alright.

Arthur rarely cried in front of you until after that fateful night. That night you almost lost him, fighting off Micah at Beaver Hollow while the camp burned around them. If Dutch hadn’t shown up at the right moment to stop it, Arthur wouldn’t be here with you right now. He thought he was as good as dead when Dutch and Micah left him, until he saw you ride in on a white horse. Literally.

The sun rose behind the trees as you rode back on your snow-white warmblood and he swore he saw an angel coming to take him away. He cried into your shirt when you held him close, grateful for this final moment with you.

He thought each day was his final day with you, and waited for death to come. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened. Fate granted him an extension on his life, and Arthur is forever grateful.

However, he fears his enemies will soon catch up with him and take you both away. He refuses to relive that pain.

Arthur would sell his soul if it meant preventing that from happening again.

Arthur sits up in bed and the sheets are dampened from his sweat, despite the cold winter night. His cheeks are wet with tears as he gently grasps at your growing stomach. He rests his head against the bump and attempts to feel for your child behind the barrier of your womb; to feel if it’s still there, undisturbed in its peaceful pod in your body.

There’s one comfort Arthur has and that’s the feeling of his unborn child within you. You’re only four months along and the bump has just become noticeable. Arthur’s breathing calms at the sensation of your warm skin against his flushed cheeks. His eyes feel hot from the panicked tears of his nightmare. He still trembles as the images of his nightmare blink into vision with every fall of his eyelids, but in time they dissipate. His trembling becomes faint once you brush your fingers through his hair.

The two of you lay in silence. The only sounds are the wet sniffles from Arthur’s nose while he rests his head on your torso. These nights become routine until the day your child is born.

Since the first day your daughter arrived, Arthur hadn’t slept. He’d watch her sleep in her tiny bassinet on the other side of the bed. His arms are laid across your waist and looped within your arms. He rubs his fingers against your skin while guarding his little princess, ready to leap across at the first sign of danger. The only way to get Arthur to fall asleep is to caress his hair and whisper soft reassurances. He’d fall asleep resting his head on your chest, listening to the calm beating of your heart.

Arthur would still wake up throughout the night, listening for your daughter’s breathing or perking his head up at the sound of a little cough or whimper. The only time the poor man would get sleep is when he’d put her down for a nap. You’d walk into the bedroom and find him softly snoring with your little girl on his chest. His large, calloused hands hold her in place.

Arthur finally begins to calm down when your daughter reaches her first birthday. A warmth inside him grows and starts to bloom like the once tight bud of a rose opening to reveal its lush layers of pedals. Arthur had always struggled with insecure relationships, but you and your daughter give him the security he desperately needed all those years ago.

His nightmares are less frequent, and instead he dreams of the gang. He misses them greatly: Miss Grimshaw, Lenny, John, and most of all Hosea. At night, Arthur dreams of introducing his little girl to Hosea. He would hand his giggling daughter to Hosea’s arms, and the old man would laugh with delight. Hosea would hold her up against the sun, basking in her glory. Her little legs kick happily as Hosea spins her around before bringing her close to kiss her chubby cheek. His silver hair and her golden locks both shine as the sun.

You wake early in the morning just before dawn and roll over to an empty space beside you. You could always sense Arthur’s absence shortly after he got up. The bed would feel larger and his spot would feel cold without his warm body. Blinking your dreary eyes, you see Arthur sitting on the edge of the bed with his head down low.

“Arthur?” You reach a hand out and faintly rub his back with your fingertips. Arthur looks over his shoulder and reaches behind him to hold your hand.

“I dreamt about Hosea again,” he answers you softly. A tiny smile is visible for a short moment, before a gloomy frown returns to his face.

Scooching closer to him, you ask, “A good one?” Your arms wrap around him, holding him close to you. Arthur instinctively leans his head as soon as your chin rests upon his tense shoulder, his earlobe just within kissing range. The tension in his shoulders relax at the feeling of your warm breath against his sensitive skin.

“Yeah,” he replies solemnly. He continues to frown at the bittersweet memory of Hosea.

You ask Arthur to describe his dream to you, and reassure him that it’s okay to miss his family. You giggle at the image of Hosea proudly holding your daughter high, showing her off to all the members at camp, teaching her to read, how to hold the reins on a horse, and how to steal people’s hearts.

“He would’ve spoiled her rotten,” Arthur croaks, the richness of his voice breaks slightly.

You smile through the pain of grief you both share. “Yeah he would’ve,” you state, “But you spoil her enough.”

Finally a chuckle rumbles lowly from Arthur, like a dim charcoal that’s been gently stoked back to flame.

Your daughter is the definition of a daddy’s girl. She hardly demands Arthur’s attention, as he’s more than ready to give it to her when she needs it. He’s the first to rise when hearing her wake from her bedroom across the hall. Your daughter happily waits to hear her father’s habitual greeting.

“Good mornin’ little bumblebee. How’d you sleep?” He’d always ask, scooping her up into his arms. She is always his little bumblebee, a nickname he thought of from her given name: Beatrice. He began to call her Bea for short, then soon after she became “bumble-Bea”.

Arthur presses his face against hers and rubs his scruffy beard against her cheek. Bea squeals in laughter at the rough sensation that tickles her cheek.

“Papaaaw! Staaaa-haaap!” She yells, attempting to push his squared jaw away with her petite hands. Her cries are quickly drowned out by Arthur’s rumbling chortles that echo through your small home.

Only Arthur can make his daughter’s special breakfast: pancakes and bacon. God forbid Daddy doesn’t make them for her. Arthur swears he doesn’t make them any different than you do, but somehow his pancakes taste better. The best is when he’s able to find wild berries and toss them in the batter. Those are Bea’s favorite.

Each day Bea gets older is another day Arthur grows happier. His worries will always linger though; anxieties always creeping behind his shoulder. He is not a man without his faults. He tends to be overprotective of you two when it comes to wandering the woods alone, staying alone in the house, or riding to town without him. Arthur won’t have it. His paranoia gets the better of him and his temper flares when you argue with him. He’ll slam the kitchen countertop and finalize his decision with an angry, “End of discussion!”

His anger quickly turns to guilt at the sight of Bea’s upturned lip, quivering in fear of his authoritative roar. She stands in the entryway with her teddy bear clutched in her arms, listening to you two argue and her little heart hammering. It’s rare she experiences this side of Arthur at her young age, no matter how frustrating she can be as a toddler.

That familiar whimper slowly rises to a wail. Bea attempts to keep a tight lip, whining through her closed mouth but her cries soon take over. She sputters and sobs as you pick her up and hold her against you, running your hands over her golden head.

It breaks Arthur’s heart to see Bea so upset, especially when he’s the cause of it. When it came to her crying for attention, you had to hold him back numerous times. Too often would he run to her room in the middle of the night at the first sound of her cries. You tried many times to explain to him that he should let her cry until she goes back to sleep. You had your maternal instincts to rely on when it came to knowing when to respond.

But Arthur? He can’t stand to hear his little bumblebee cry. He’s made too many mistakes as a father early in his life, so he strives to be the best he can be. And sometimes, he can try a little too hard.

Arthur’s favorite moments are those sitting by the fireplace after a hard day’s work. His stomach is full, the sky is dark, and the fire is warm. He watches the sparks pop from the dry firewood stacked in the flames. The creak of his rocking chair syncs with your voice like a metronome. You’re reading a storybook to Bea, who sits cradled in Arthur’s arms. Her hair is still damp from her evening bath, and she’s dressed in her fresh cotton nightgown. With Arthur’s arms wrapped around her, his palms placed in the crook of her knees, she idly fumbles with the sleeve of his shirt while listening to you read. Arthur struggles to stay awake with his head dropping occasionally and his eyelids growing heavy while Bea listens attentively to the story.

The story is indeed an interesting one, a children’s biblical story you were given by a church woman a couple years ago. She had seen you passing by the church after you stopped for supplies and offered it to you. A blessing for your little one, she said pointing to your pregnant belly. The old woman was kind and asked to pray for you and your child, to which you humbly accepted.

The story was of a man named Daniel, who served under a king and was accused of breaking the law of worship that forbid any man from praying to God without the aid of the king. He was ordered to be thrown into a den of lions, but when the king checked the next day, Daniel was alive. An angel was sent down from heaven and shut the mouth of the lions, saving Daniel’s life.

Bea was enraptured by the story and asks you, “Are angels real?”

Closing the book, you open your mouth to answer until Arthur speaks up.

“ ‘f course they’re real,” he says softly, “We all got a guardian angel.”

Bea lifts her head off his shoulder and looks to him with glistening eyes, “Even me?” She asks.

A crooked smile adorns Arthur’s lips, “Of course,” he answers, breaking eye contact with Bea and gazing over at you with a loving stare.

Arthur lets you slip into bed as he offers to tuck your daughter in. Her lamp on the nightstand dimly lights her room in a honey glow.

“Y’know, yer mama’s an angel,” Arthur whispers, pulling the sheets over her. “Did you know that?”

Her eyes grow wide and she replies with a shocked whisper, “No.”

Arthur smiles and nods his head, “It’s true. Now don’t tell her,” he warns, looking back at the doorway. The door is cracked only slightly to let in the light from your bedroom across the hall. “She ain’t supposed to know that we know,” Arthur says.

“Why not?” Bea asks, gripping the edge of the quilt.

“Well, then she can’t have her powers no more.” Arthur answers.

“But how do you know she’s an angel?”

Arthur looks at your daughter with a fondness in his eyes. She has the same curiosity as you do. His thoughts are immediately flooded with memories of that terrifying night at Beaver Hollow.

Arthur breathes a deep sigh. “She saved my life,” he explains, “Y’see, Daddy was hurt real bad. And she came flyin’ in on her white horse and saved me. She told me everythin’ was gonna be alright...and then she carried me home.”

His daughter looks at him in shock, her jaw dropped. “Wow,” she says.

Arthur nods his head and smiles at his daughter’s astonishment. He reminds her, “Now remember, this is just between me and you,” he tucks her in tighly in her warm blankets, “Okay?”

She nods her head so hard she nearly makes herself dizzy.

“That’sa good girl,” Arthur praises softly, “Now, go to sleep. I love you.”

He kisses her forehead just before she wraps her arms around her neck, hugging him tightly.

“I love you too, Daddy.” She says sleepily.

For the rest of Arthur’s life, he firmly believed he had not one, but two guardian angels who loved him.

[soranihimawari]

the truth is...

“Kindness is free. Love is free,” I said triumphantly raising the bottle of sake in the air.  Today was one I didn’t see coming at all. As fate would have it, running into my high school crush was not particularly high on my to-do list when I left the cafe I worked in earlier in the afternoon. I was hired on as one of the patisseries which specialized in parfaits and seasonal tarts during my last year in culinary school. Tonight, I was drunk on celebrating this latest turn of events.

“Of course,” my company teases me right as he raises my hand to his lips. he lets go of my hand with a cheshire cat like grin. “How could I ever forget that. C’mon, let’s get some food in you before you suffer the worse hangover in your life. I know a great place not too far from here.”

I took another swig of the sake bottle before I nodded.

“Lead the way Atsumu-san.”

I swore those hazel eyes never looked so inviting as they did at that point in my life. I recalled my coworkers’ conversation earlier in the middle of our shift:

“Say, y/n-san,“ the interning barista, Haruna, began.

“Hmm?” I hummed my response. “What’s up Haru-chan?”

“I was, well we were all wondering about something,” she said.

I picked up a towel to dry another cappuccino mug beside her. The other members of our cafe were within earshot when their senior intern asked her question.

“How come your boyfriend only comes in after we leave? When are you gonna introduce us?”

“Boyfriend? Haruna, I hate to break to you, but I don’t have one.”

“No, you do,” she begins to state her case. Haruna nervously twiddled her thumbs while our other coworker, Senna, approached us. “Tell her Senna-senpai.”

“We didn’t want to say anything, but there’s this hot blond guy who looks eerily similar to Miya Atsumu, y’know. From the MSBY Black Jackals? Anyways, he stops in here every once in a while right at closing time when it’s Erina’s turn to lock up the cafe. And apparently there was one day he asked me if you worked here,” Senna confesses. “You went to Inarizaki too, right?”

“Yeah, so?” I asked. My small smile was caught by both of them before I picked up the next mug to dry.

“You should of seen the relief on his face when Senna told him that you did and now he hasn’t stopped coming by on random mornings, but you’re never here when he comes by,” Haruna says with a dreamy sigh.

“Listen,” I said. I placed the second mug upside down on the drying rack and folded the drying towel before continuing. “The next time that blonde pretty boy walks in here is the day I will need to buy a bottle of really strong orange flavored sake to get through any sort of time with him.”

“You liked him didn’t you?” Haruna giggled.

“I do not.” Oh fuck, they’re both going to pick up on that slip, I thought.

“You’re blushing really hard now, Senpai,” Senna teased. “You still find him really hot don’t you?”

***

A couple of days go by without Miya stopping by the cafe. I had reminded my fellow cafe employees the MSBY team had a few away practice matches while promoting a newly signed member of their team. Even with this knowledge, their collective curiosity got the better of them inquiring about my relationship, or lack thereof, with the good looking setter. 

It wasn’t until two weeks later Miya Atsumu stopped in for his usual. Apparently there were perks of his frequent visits one of them being on his social media account pages tagging our cafe location with the quote “she always makes the best parfaits”. Business actually had been steady since then. After all, it helps when your three coworkers all had conversed with him once or twice before.

One Saturday around four forty-five in the afternoon, I was in the middle of setting my fudge in a star mold when Erina, Haruna, and Senna texted me to come out of the kitchen saying that there was a regular who had a question about the menu. Judging by the messages I received, I rolled my eyes. 

“Unbelievable,” I muttered before patting my hands on the apron; I had a coy smile on my face when I opened Haruna’s photo message. Damn Atsumu, you still are as handsome as ever. I pushed through the swinging kitchen door walking toward where my former classmate was standing on the opposite side of the display counter.

“Miya-kun?” my voice maintained its curious tone.

The blonde professional athlete stood in the middle of the cafe reading the menu wearing a casual sponsored street attire that included a hoodie with his team’s logo stitched on (along with a pair of cotton jersey shorts and running shoes). Compared to me being dressed in a humbling combination of tapered royal blue jeans and a sunflower yellow blouse paired with nonslip ebony ballet flats, the setter looked like he was in athleisure campaign.

“Hey there dollface. Long time no see.”

I folded my arms over my chest when he sat down in front of the short counter space near the espresso maker. I was skeptical of his presence here, but my brain kicked into fight or flight mode ever since I heard him poke fun at the odd shaped friendship chocolates I left for him on his desk when we were fifteen (to be fair, it was my second attempt at making sea salt chocolates at home, but apparently, the Miya twins were going through their high school jerk phase). I watched Atsumu from afar trash them without even tasting one in favor of his fangirls’ fancier box saying something about how he had to avoid excess sweets for a week because of some stupid bet he had going on with his twin.

Does he need to know he was the reason why I wanted to perfect my sweet making skills? No. Absolutely not. Because if he did, that ego of his would skyrocket and I’m actually ok with not letting that bit of info reach his ears. Damn it Miya, why are you still as good looking as I remembered you being? The fuck was I thinking when I was fifteen...Gods do I need a drink. I thought.

“What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off training or at practice or something?”

“Nope. I got the day off and thought I should come by to see what’s the newest parfait my favorite old classmate made for me.”

“Bold of you to assume it’s for you, ‘Tsumu.”

Me saying his nickname caused him to raise an eyebrow at me before he closed his eyes and I watched his lips draw back into a wider smile.

“Erina, Haruno, mind staying behind to help Senna clean and lock up tonight? It seems the owner of this cafe and I have dinner plans.”

“You’re not their boss Miya, so you can’t tell them what to do.” I pushed my finger against his shoulder which caused a chortle to come from him. I turned around to face my coworkers with an amused stare.

“Erina, Haruno, mind helping Senna out tonight? I’m leaving early. Apparently I have plans with the starting setter for the MSBY volleyball team.”

That was at five-thirty that afternoon...

---THE NEXT DAY, 9:56a.m.---

The soft chirping of an alarm located on the nightstand next to the plush king sized bed where I found myself waking up in. I am by no means a rich lady and for the life of me, I couldn’t even afford a place like this with a killer view of the neighborhood. Suddenly, as I hoisted myself up from the sheets, my memory came back in little flashes. Memories ranged from me getting drunk with Atsumu at the local pub next to his brother’s restaurant to Atsumu’s declaration on which onigiri his brother makes was the absolute best in town and how not one of his ex-girlfriends could ever replicate it properly.

I don’t recall much of what we talked about at Onigiri Miya when Osamu left us to ourselves for a little bit, but I could of sworn Atsumu tell me how he was searching for the cafe I worked at trying to formally apologize about dumping out the chocolates I had made when we were in high school:

“I heard you made them at home, right?” he asked, watching my nose twitch before I rested my head in my palm on the table. When I nodded, I didn’t notice he was pouting when he muttered an, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, hah. I did. It was my second batch too. I made them look like stars because those were the only molds I had. If I had known they’d wind up in the trash, I wouldn’t have tried to make you feel better after the results of the spring tournament that year,” I said exhaling a sigh. I leaned my head against Atsumu’s shoulder gently reassuring him I had long since forgiven him. “But it’s in the past. Don’t worry about it so much, ‘tsumu. C’mon, the night is still young and I need at least one more bottle of sake before the convenience store stops selling them.”

---

“Oh my god,” I groaned when I flung the blanket off my top exposed body. My bra was still on, which was a good sign I guess, but instead of wearing my sapphire slacks, I noticed they were replaced with an older pair of white with black striped sweatpants (the color combination of the sweatpants reminded me of my high school’s volleyball team). I snatched the closest shirt I could find, yet I didn’t have enough time to throw that over my shoulders since I heard the bedroom door creak open.

“Good, you’re awake,” a disembodied voice called out from behind me. Give me a damned minute, I thought. I know that voice; it belonged to one of my classmates whom I recalled walking into my cafe yesterday asking me to spend the evening with him. Inhaling a sharp breath when I felt the mattress dip behind me, I barely remember him telling me to confess about something when I was sober in the morning and for some reason I had agreed.

“You’re really pretty, y’know.” Miya stretched his arm around my shoulder before he stood up to help me to my feet. I was a bit skeptical at his compliment, yet he squeezed my shoulder twice allowing me to know that he said was true.

“You flatter me, Miya. Why don’t you try complimenting me when I’m sober, yeah?” I tapped the left side of his cheek when I hopped off the stool. 

“Fine,” he chuckled. “You’re drunk enough as it is. Let’s go. Later ‘Samu.”

I shook my head right as I felt his arms wrap around me from behind, I let out a shaky laugh when he pulled me to lean back into him. I was quick to notice the soft fabric of his shirt when my head came into contact with it. There’s no way in hell we’d ever sleep together because I might have let it slip we should try to avoid a publicity scandal...

“How’re ya feeling dollface?” his voice whispers into my ear. A shiver ran up my spine when he did this, allowing me to focus on anything else besides the sun peeping through the blinds of the window.

“Better now that I’m here, ‘tsumu,” I replied in a groggy tone, my voice was barely above a whisper. Honestly, I’m not as hungover as I thought either, so he must have coerced me into eating some left over onigiri he had when he offered his place to me to crash, I thought. Then, I made a mental note to add a few extra half dozen macaroons for his brother when I see him next time. What Atsumu said next threw me for a loop:

“That’s good because I want you sober to remember this,” his voice taunted me right before I felt his lips press into the sides of my neck, down my back, and onto my shoulders.

“Mmm,” my voice hummed. “’Tsumu, you’re~aah~gonna leave a mark.”

My lips curled in amusement at the map his kisses left behind. He mentioned something like he wasn’t going to stop until I properly forgave him, to which I replied with a resounding, “If I didn’t did you think I’d have accepted your offer of spending the night out on the town with you?” I held onto his hands when he paused for a moment to think.

I raised my head up when he stopped, a smug smile tugged his lips upward. I felt my eyes blink a few times processing what he was trying to ask me to do. Thankfully my partner was a patiently affectionate person this morning because he didn’t leave out much for me to figure out when I twisted around his hold to plant my lips over his own. Yet although I claimed I was sober, I was already drunk off this warmth radiating from him.

You would think that after all the hours I'd spent with Atsumu last night - watching him talk, laugh, and frown (and the same with the way I noticed his stolen glances for a few seconds when he wandered into the cafe I worked in)- that I would know all there was to know about his lips, but I hadn't figured how kind they would feel pressed up against my own just yet.

When I pulled away first, I watched the way Atsumu looked down at me, his face a little flushed from my kiss. He smirked before pressing his lips on mine again and this time, the kiss was just as invigorating as before; his calloused hands roaming every inch of my body and with one of his hands becoming lost in my hair. Eventually I crawled into his lap, using his shoulders to steady my balance when he hoisted me up prompting me to straddle his upper body. My arms looped around behind his neck, running my fingers through his hair in a coquettish manner. I blew short streams of air onto the side of his neck causing his breath to hitch in his throat right before I burrowed my face in his neck kissing the space under his ear, causing me to feel his chest rumble when I heard him chortle. I seized the opportunity to guide Atsumu’s lips back onto mine. 

We were both lost in a sea of bliss after that because from what we both could tell, this was the starting point of a hard-earned love that took it’s sweet time to develop and gods be damned was his love worth it.

[justasparkwritings]

Codename Cupid: Chapter 4

Previous: Daddy’s Favorite & The First Date

Pairing: Kim Seokjin X OFC

Genre: Light Angst, Secret AgentAU, AgentAU, Light College AU

Rating: PG13

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Swearing, Very minor mention of consensual sex 

Summary: Kim Seokjin meets the deciders of his fate, and the demise of his relationship. 

Codename: The First Heartbreak

Winter, Junior Year

          Kim Seokjin and Lee Euna began their courtship on the pretense of getting to know each other more for the sake of their economics project. What Seokjin hadn’t expected, was to fall into bed with Euna, to hold her hand on campus, to discuss New Year’s celebrations and date nights at the ballet or symphony. Euna knew how to wine and dine, sweeping Seokjin up in what he could only describe as a whirlwind romance. She wanted to ensnare him, to make her life so irresistible, he couldn’t breathe without her. The plan would’ve worked too, if Kim Namjoon hadn’t stepped in.

         It was late one Thursday in the middle of January, snow had fallen across campus coating it in a freezing blanket, when Seokjin arrived at his car. Resting gently on the dashboard was a note with a simple location, somewhere up town, no signature. Terrified by the thought of what would happen to him if he didn’t go, horrified by the thoughts of what might happen if he did go, Seokjin sat in his car, hands frozen to the steering wheel, eyes wide in shock. He had no good options.

         Turning his car on, blasting the heat and whatever podcast he had started in the library, Seokjin drove cautiously to the location. He could turn on find my friends, sending his location to his brother. He could call his brother, and ask to mute himself, so that he could hear whatever happened. He could just wait in his car, unmoving until someone came and got him. That seemed like the best option. Wait an hour or so before leaving and hoping to never find a note perfectly placed, with his name on it, in his locked car ever again.

         The best laid plans are always turned to shit, and as the minutes ticked by, an ever-present shadow kept growing. At first Jin thought it was an optical illusion, a trick of the light, but as it moved closer and closer, he became aware that it was in fact a man. A man rivaling his height, though shoulders less broad, and lips far from pouty, dressed in all black, his eyes cast down at Seokjin.

         “Kim Seokjin, glad you made it,” He said, reaching for the handle of the door, he opened it.

         “Who are you?” Jin asked.

         The man shook his head and nodded towards the building behind them, practically windowless, it stood stories high. How a warehouse could look so majestic confused him, never had he seen a building like this before. Exiting his vehicle, he paused.

         “Do you want the note?”

         “No, we won’t be here tomorrow,” The man said as he walked towards the building. Matching his strides, Jin followed. He watched the man enter a code and have his retinas scanned before they stepped into the building. The darkness was only alleviated by small lights along the floorboards, guiding them to another locked door. Jin didn’t dare speak, only watched in astonishment.

         This couldn’t be happening.

         “Have a seat,” The man said before following his own directions.

         “Who are you?” Seokjin asked, eyes trying to make sense of the dimly lit room.

         “Welcome, Kim Seokjin, to OT7,” The lights were raised and Jin gasped. Not only was he seated at a large conference table, but it was now clear that there were two other men, dressed in black, looking like the Korean Mafia.

         “Um, hello,” Seokjin nodded, staring at them.

         “I am Kim Namjoon,” The first man said, his bleach blonde hair neatly quaffed back, exposing his forehead and spectacles. “I am glad you received my note. This is the team,”

         “Min Yoongi, head of cyber intelligence, coding and security,” Yoongi said, eyes blinking quickly.  

         “Jung Hoseok, forgery and documentation,” Hoseok informed.

         “We have brought you here for a specific reason,” Namjoon said.

         “Okay,” Jin was still confused.

         “You are friendly with Lee Euna,” Namjoon began.

         “Yes,” Jin answered.

         “You’re a scholar of economics and finance,” Namjoon continued.

         “Yes,” Seokjin nodded, nothing was connecting.

         “We want you to join our team,” Hoseok said. “Want is the wrong word, you are joining our team.”

         “What team is that?” Jin was still confused.

         “OT7, we are a highly trained, highly specialized group of agents tasked with protecting the world from the scum of the earth,” Yoongi said, sitting back in his chair.

         “We look out for the good of the world,” Namjoon simplified. “It sounds nebulous, but I guarantee it is far more simplistic than you think.”

         “Why me?” Seokjin whispered.

         “You have been on our radar for years, and this year you stepped up to demonstrate your skills,” Namjoon told him.

         “We need a member on the team who can analyze the trade, monitor our marks and watch for any concerning trades,” Yoongi clarified.

         “More importantly, we need you to help us infiltrate the Lee family,” Hoseok spoke up, eyes moving from Yoongi’s to Namjoon’s, “That’s why he’s here, we don’t need to drag this out, the guy looks scared shitless.”

         “Infiltrate the Lee family?” Seokjin repeated. “That’s, how?”

         “You two are dating,” Yoongi said.

         “Sure,” Jin nodded.

         “To be direct, we need everything you have on Lee Euna and her family,” Hoseok said.

         “I don’t have much, I mean, I don’t know anything about their business,” Seokjin’s eyes widened, still confused how he had managed to find himself here.

         “Here’s how this is going to work,” Namjoon said. “You are going to work with us, you are going to be onboarded and brought into this organization. Then, you are going to tell us every last detail you have on Lee Euna. Finally, the second most essential part of this plan, you are going to break her heart so that Yoongi can put her back together, gain access to her computer and plant various tracking software. With the information Yoongi gathers, you will spend your days analyzing their business models, following their stock and going over every financial record we have access to. Do you have any questions?”

         “She loves me,” Seokjin’s eyes were wide, this was more preposterous than anything he’d seen in the business world.

         “All the better reason to end it now,” Yoongi said.

         “It’s, it’s almost Valentine’s Day, she loves Valentin’s Day,” Seokjin was pleading.

         “Even better,” Yoongi responded.

         “Why me?” Jin asked again.

         “Can you find me someone more intelligent, more equipped?” Namjoon questioned.

         “I’ve never broken someone’s heart,” Seokjin said, more to himself than to the other men.

         “There’s a first time for everything,” Hoseok replied, tone gentle.  

         “Who are you again?” Seokjin repeated.

         “Who are we,” Namjoon corrected, “OT7, your new family.”

         “Welcome, you’re gonna love it,” Hoseok said laughing.

         “Hoseok will pick you up tomorrow after your final class and bring you to our headquarters where we will begin your onboarding process. You will finish school early-

         “How?” Jin interrupted.

         “Summer school. You will quit your part time job and spend every waking moment not in class at headquarters. You have much to learn,” Namjoon finished.

         “I’ll have your new phone ready for you tomorrow, bring your computer so I can fix whatever shit software you’ve got on it and amp up security,” Yoongi informed him.

         “Am I, am I in danger?” Seokjin asked.

         “No, you’re not. Yoongi has a new trainee tailing you, so if anything goes wrong, he’ll be there,” Namjoon answered.

         “Who?” Jin asked.

         “That’s for us to know.” Yoongi smirked.

         “In any official documents, you will hence forth be referred to as-

         “Worldwide Handsome,” Yoongi suggested, a glint of terror in his eyes.

         “Codename WWH,” Namjoon nodded, “We use code names for every mission, need to know basis.”

         “Okay,” Seokjin said, eyes trying to focus on his new family. “What’s this mission called?”

         “The First Heartbreak,” Hoseok said, “I’m in charge of naming missions.”

         “Your task, before Hoseok picks you up, is to break up with Codename Cupid.” Namjoon instructed, voice harsh.

         “By tomorrow?”

         “Yes,” Namjoon answered.

~~~~~

         Seokjin drove until his gas tank was on empty, fear and confusion coursing through him. They, OT7, hadn’t given him much information, only his task: break up with Euna. Seokjin had never broken up with someone before, never watched the realization that the two of them weren’t building something come crashing down, gloss forming over their eyes as they tried to remain calm. He’d never hurt someone. He’d also never had a code name or been in some secret government organization. Was it a government organization? They hadn’t said. That was even more worrisome, expecting Hoseok to pick him up to take him to his first of what he assumed was many onboarding sessions. These men, the four of them, must be child prodigies, must be highly intelligent or bred to be in these positions. He couldn’t figure out how he fit into their plan, only that he had to.

         Barely sleeping, he trudged through his classes, absentmindedly taking notes, counting down the hours until he had to break up with Euna, and then promptly hop into a car with a man he barely knew, Hoseok. Euna texted frequently, concerned over his lack of communication, and was excited to see him over coffee.

         “Jinnie,” Euna called as she stepped into the coffee shop. Seokjin, having turned on voice recording, set his phone face down on the table.

         “Euna,” He said, refusing to call her by any pet name. It was a trait about him she found frustrating, his inability to verbalize his affection. She loved him, she could say it, she could identify the feeling within her body, but Jin? Never said, never tried to say it, just grateful that she wanted to spend time with him.

         “How are you? Where have you been?” Euna asked.

         “Just really busy,” Seokjin shrugged, closing himself off to her.

         “Oh?” Euna could see through his lie.

         “Yeah, and I’ve been thinking,”

         “I made reservations for Valentine’s day, it’ll be our 5-month anniversary too,” Euna sipped her latte, eyes bright but questioning.

         “About that, Euna, I’ve been thinking, and I don’t think we should see each other anymore,” Seokjin said. On his long drive around town, he practiced his speech. The words, written by Namjoon, had been kind and direct.

         “What?” Euna’s voice dropped. She hadn’t been expecting this.

         “I need to focus on my work, and with Dr. Cho asking me to TA this semester and next spring, and with the option to TA two sections next year, I need to focus. All my time needs to be directed at my work. I am graduating early, and I just don’t have the time to be in a relationship. I’m sorry, Euna, I really am.”

         Euna sat silently, eyes boring holes in the tabletop, her coffee forgotten. Hadn’t they been falling in love? Weren’t they planning a romantic Valentine’s Day weekend? Roses and chocolates and champagne at one of the hotels her parents owned, overlooking the city? Wasn’t he going to tell her that he loves her?

         “I can’t believe this,” She whispered, a tear dropping from her eye. “I thought we were moving forward, falling in love.”

         “I don’t know if I was,” Jin said.

         It was in that moment that Euna felt herself shattering. She wiped the stray tear away before setting her eyes on her now ex-boyfriend.

         “I trust you’ll be cordial in social situations,” Euna said.

         “Of course,” Jin nodded, his gut reaction to reach for her hand gone as he took in her downcast features.

         “Goodbye Seokjin,” Euna stood, staring into her full coffee cup.

         “Goodbye Euna,” Seokjin responded.

         On the drive to headquarters, Seokjin blindfolded, he listened to the droll of the radio. Hoseok didn’t say much as they meandered through the streets, onto the freeway and off. It was hard to tell what the actual directions was and what Hoseok was doing to throw him off. If only he knew how poor Seokjin’s sense of direction was.

         “WWH, you can take your blindfold off,” Hoseok said, putting the car in park.

         “Is this how it’s going to be?” Seokjin asked.

         “For the first month or so, then you’ll prove yourself and get to drive,” Hoseok responded.  

         “How did you get into this, group? Organization?” He was unsure what to call it, unsure what it even was.

         “Ah, that’s a story for another time,” Hoseok guided him towards the elevator. Having his retina scanned, the doors opened, and they stepped in.

         “Namjoon’s in charge?” Seokjin asked.

         “Yes,” Hoseok nodded.

         “He’s younger than me,” Jin stated.

         “Yes,” Hoseok replied.

         “Is he-

         “A genius?” Hoseok smiled.

         “Yeah,” Jin nodded.

         “Yes,” Hoseok nodded again.

         “Are all of you-

         “Gifted?”

         “Yeah,”

         “Yes,” Hoseok looked at him, knowing full well his response answered the unaskable question.

         “How did you-

         “All in good time, Mr. Handsome,” Hoseok winked and stepped off the elevator, glancing at the empty reception desk before turning down a hallway.

         “We’re briefing you before Yoongi takes over.”

         “Yoongi?”

         “Did you bring your phone and computer?” Yoongi asked, making his way towards the men.

         “Yes, I did,” Seokjin handed over the devices.

         “I didn’t ask if you have any other devices, iPad, tablet, anything,” Yoongi was busy looking over the material, not paying Seokjin any attention as he pulled off bar codes and shut down the machines.

         “No, no tablet,” Jin answered.

         “You do all that economics work, on this singular computer?” Yoongi questioned, disbelief in his voice.

         “I have a monitor-

         “Fuck, bring it tomorrow,”

         “Ah, Worldwide Handsome, have a seat,” Namjoon said entering Yoongi’s office. “I trust it you slept horribly?”

         “Absolutely horribly, worst night’s sleep,” Seokjin shook his head.

         Eyeing the dark circles adorning Seokjin’s face, Namjoon spoke softly, “You didn’t go straight home yesterday.”

         “Uh, no, I didn’t.”

         “Did you follow through on your orders?” Namjoon questioned.

         “Yes,”

         “Yoongi, send the voice memo and print the transcription,” Namjoon directed.

         “I’ll listen and transcribe it, give me 5 minutes,” There was no further discussion, Hoseok stood and moved to his office across the hall.  

         “Mm, let’s talk about Lee Euna,” Namjoon led Seokjin into a conference room on the opposite glass wall of Yoongi’s office. The exposed brick was laced with a variety of greenery, plants of all species crawling up the walls and windowsills.  

         “Alright,” Seokjin sat down, his heart moving his center of gravity to easily meet the cushion of the office chair.

         “How long have you known her?” Namjoon asked.

         “I’ve known of her since freshman year, but only became acquainted with her this fall when we became partners in Dr. Cho’s class.”

         “Who asked who to be partners?” Namjoon pressed.

         “She asked me,” Seokjin replied.

         “Any idea why?”

         “No,” Jin shrugged, he’d been wondering the same thing since she asked.

         “When did you begin dating?”

         “November,” Jin answered.

         “Two and a half months after the project began?” Namjoon clarified.

         “Yes,”

         “How is she, as a business partner?”

         “She knows a lot more than she lets on, about everything,” He shrugged.

         “What did you know of her family before you started seeing each other?”

         “They are one of the most elusive and public family’s in the world,” Namjoon started, “They have billions, donate to charity, and have hands in every aspect of the financial system, both in the states and globally.”

         “What do you know now?” Hoseok asked, setting the transcription in front of Namjoon.

         “Euna doesn’t talk about her family much…”

         “What do you know?” Namjoon asked again.

         “Dae-Seong is the devil incarnate, angry and vindictive, abusive to all three siblings. Jun-Seo is flirtatious and rambunctious, takes his job very seriously. Kwan-Min is much like Jun-Seo, and the two are inseparable.”

         “How does Euna relate to them?” Hoseok wondered.

         He took a seat next to Namjoon and stared at the greenery. Seokjin hadn’t spent enough time with him to understand the full duality of Hoseok, but he had the feeling there was more to him than met his eye.

         “She doesn’t, Dae-Seong has made it clear that she is the golden maknae of the family, and everyone should bow at her feet. He hates her and has made it his mission to turn the other two against her as well. When they announced she would take over the company –

         “They didn’t announce that,” Namjoon interrupts, eyes darting to Hoseok.

         “I thought they-

         “YOONGI!” Namjoon yelled, voice rattling the glass separating them from the coder.

         “Aye, what?” Yoongi asked, stepping into the room.

         “Lee Euna is set to become the next CEO of Lee Enterprises,”

         “Says who?” Yoongi shot back.

         “Mr. Handsome,” Hoseok said.

         “Is that really how I’m going to be addressed?” Seokjin rolled his eyes.

         “Yes,” Hoseok smiled.

         “It’s not in any papers or reports, no internal memos, nothing. No one has that information. Are you sure, Lee Euna is set to become CEO?” Yoongi stared at Seokjin, wondering if this string bean was holding the key to the gates of paradise.

         “She said it one night, we were talking about the future and jobs,” Jin informed them.

         “Did she offer you a job at Enterprises?” Namjoon demanded.

         Seokjin glanced from man to man, anger and frustration in their eyes. “Yeah, but I said that would be weird… We haven’t been together that long.”

         A pause filled the room, air the only thing exchanging between the men. Jin couldn’t tell if he had just fucked up, or royally fucked up.

         “Did she say when?” Yoongi asked.

         “No, probably a few years after graduation, her dad wants her to spend more time actual in the company before she takes over,” Jin answered.

         “Mm,” Namjoon nodded, his rage ebbing as he broke down the information. “What does that do for our plan?”

         “What’s the plan?” Seokjin asked.

         “Oh, Worldwide Handsome, you have so much to learn.”

Next: Searching for Seokjin