#anyway. sorry this is two weeks late. my life is spiraling out of control <3< /div> Explore tagged Tumblr posts

[04tenno]

Kazuhiro Nakaya (Ichiban Kasuga/Akira Nishikiyama) on auditioning for the role of Ichiban!

Full video in source!

[uswntxfootball]

Working Overtime (USWNT x Reader)

request: @ko5-greyson​ ; You could do a uswnt x reader where they are overworking themselves with soccer and staying up to late with school work. they don’t notice cause she doesn’t have a roommate and stuff. Everything else is up too you if you want. (This post is way to long sorry)

word count: 1368 ish

the team was prepping hard for the upcoming olympics, including extra practices and trainings every week. for the other players, it doesn’t seem like a big deal, but for you, the 20 year old forward who is also currently attending stanford university, that means staying up until 4 am for classes. 

a/n: for anyone that’s confused, your classes are all online! (also i’m kinda a very big press stand if y’all haven’t noticed :D) also this is a pretty bad imagine so just bear with me here :/

----

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath as you check your watch. Your chemistry lecture had started twenty minutes ago, and you were just now getting out of training. You run out of the weight room as fast as you can, cursing under your breath when you forget your bag, coming back to pick it up, then sprinting out of the weight room and across the street to your hotel. Your teammates stared at you with heavy interest, no one daring to stop you. When you’ve made your way out of the room, it’s Pinoe who’s first to break the silence. “What’s with her?” Everyone shrugs and shakes their head in an “I don’t know” motion. ~~ Everything for the first two years had been smooth sailing, but with the additional practices and trainings for the upcoming Olympics, your life quickly began to spiral out of control. You take a glance over at your clock, sighing when you realize it’s already 3 am. You were thankful you didn’t have a roommate, as your late night study sessions would most likely be of annoyance. You had yet to figure out the last few chemistry problems assigned that day, but unfortunately for you, you had training the next morning at 8. Vlatko would kill you if you missed practice, and your professor would kill you if you didn’t finish the homework. You set an alarm for 4 am, promising yourself to work just one more hour, so then you can arrive to practice with...a healthy...3 hours of sleep..? When 4 am hits, you (thankfully) finish everything, and as soon as your back touches the mattress, you’re out. You arrive to practice the next morning with heavy bags under your eyes, religiously chugging coffee in an attempt to make up for the lack of sleep you’d gotten the night before. Practice was a mess, you were a clumsy mess around the ball, missing shots you’d normally never miss. The team could tell you were off your game, but they just assumed you were up partying and were hungover or something, and so no one commented anything on it. When you’re dismissed and practice ends, you feel like you’ve just run a marathon. You’re ready to pass out from exhaustion, and you want nothing more than to lay down and sleep. But as soon as you step into your room and lay on your bed, you suddenly remember that it’s finals week in two weeks, and you had a lot of catching up to do, after missing your bio labs and physics labs during the time of olympic qualifying matches. You let out a groan and shove your head under a pillow, cursing the gods for making your life so miserable. ~~ With finals week approaching, your life has just gone from busy, to I barely have time to breathe. You got 20 hours of sleep total in the next week, with you pulling all nighters here and there. And as a result, you started arriving to morning training later and later, with a cup of coffee in hand and heavy bags under your eyes. By this point, the team began to worry about you. You were always very adamant about being on time, as you always chided them (particularly Ash) for being late, saying, “Early is on time, and on time is late.” So Friday morning when it’s 8:35 and you still haven’t shown up to practice, the team began to panic. “Do you think she’s okay?” Kelley asked Mal, who gave a halfhearted shrug and whispered, “I hope so.” “She doesn’t have a roommate does she?” “No she doesn’t.” “Should we go check on her?” The duo brought up their request to the team, the team nodding and let them go as they were equally worried about you. And so here they were, Kelley and Mal making their way up to your room, keycard in hand. ~~ What greeted them was the sight of you passed out on your desk, textbooks open and pencil still in hand. The sound of the door closing is what wakes you from your sleep, your eyes widening when you see the two girls standing in your room. You glance at your watch and realize that practice is over. You weren’t just late, you had missed it. “Shit.” You muttered, trying to pack your bags to maybe talk to Vlatko and somehow make up your missed practice. “Y/N.” Kelley says, bringing you out of your desperate scrambling. You pause your efforts and look up. In your hurry you had completely forgotten about the two girls standing here before you. “I’m so sorry.” You stammer apologetically. “I stayed up late studying and I just lost track of time and I j-“ “Y/N.” Mal says sternly, cutting you off. “What’s keeping you up anyways?” Kelley inquires. “I’m studying chemical engineering at Stanford and finals week is coming soon and it’s kicking my ass.” You say with a sigh, missing the way Kelley’s jaw drops in amazement. “You’re studying chemical engineering.” “Yes.” “At Stanford.” “That would be correct.” “While training for the Olympics.” “Yup.” “You’re insane.” “Trust me I know. I just didn’t want Vlatko or my professor or you guys to treat me any different so I haven’t told you all anything...” You look off to the side awkwardly. “Oh Y/N...” Mal moves to give you a hug, with Kelley following suit. “We’ll figure something out okay? We don’t want you killing yourself over this.” You nodded into the hug, unable to keep a tear from falling out. You were so tired and so stressed, it was a miracle you hadn’t fallen apart (completely). You stayed there for a little bit longer, reveling in the warm embrace of your friends. ~~ “You’re studying WHAT?” Vlatko exclaims in surprise. “Chemical engineering” You say softly, worried about his reaction. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?? I mean you’re in your junior year already.” “I just didn’t want to be benched or taken off as a starter because I was in school...” You trailed off. “Especially not for the Olympic roster.” You add. “I see..” Vlatko states, fingers gently drumming on his chin. “Well, I’ll figure something out.” “I’m sure you will. Come to me if you need anything.” “Will do, coach.” ~~ “You’re WHAT??” Your professor exclaims in shock. “I’m a forward for the USWNT and I’m training for the Olympics currently.” You say softly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “I didn’t want any extensions or extra credit just because I was on a national soccer team..” A similar conversation with Vlatko happens with your professor, and you’re thankful that both your teacher and your coach were so understanding. ~~ “I’m rooming with you now.” Christen declares, bursting into your room at 4 pm. “What? Chris?” You ask, taking your earbuds out. You were in a lecture currently, and you certainly didn’t expect someone to bust into your room. “Oh and me too” Tobin waves from behind Christen. “As your appointed team moms it is our job to make sure that you’re sleeping well and eating well and are healthy so that is exactly what we are going to do.” Christen states, dragging her suitcase through the door. And do that she did, for the next week up until finals, Christen made sure you slept at 11, so you would have enough energy for practice. She made sure you drank plenty of water, and managed your time efficiently to get everything done. With Christen by your side, the next week was a breeze, and you felt less stress than you ever had in your life. Tobin of course, sat around doing Tobin things, playing ping pong against a wall whilst juggling a soccer ball non stop (though Chris would push her out of your room whenever you were in need to study). So when finals week hit, you were more than prepared, all the while tearing up the field during practice. And a week later when you saw the Olympic start up with your name on it, you squealed and hugged Christen and Tobin tight, muttering a million thank yous. You were glad that you had people that cared about you.

[leggomylino]

Sunrise | Hwang Hyunjin

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Genre: Angst, Romance, Drama, Comedy

AU: Beauty and the Beast au

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x fem!reader

Word Count: ~26k

Warning(s): Minorly dark themes, vague mentions of suicide, sparse censored language

A/N: It’s finally done! <3 | For Kumi, my dear friend. <3

Playlist:

Lighthouse → Hope

forever rain → RM

Tag List: @hanniiesuckle17​ @distrikt9​ @hanstagrams​ @hyunsunq​ @smolboiseavey​ (let me know if you want to be added!)

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ 

  .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

| Zero ❧

It was no lie that Hwang Hyunjin was what he was. A monster. A crook. A fiend. 

But had that been his fault? No. Had it been his intention to piss off the old hag who showed up at his doorstep looking for shelter, who also happened to be a witch?

...Well, yes, technically. But in his defense, he hadn’t known she’d been a witch. He just assumed she was another ex-royal his father’s company had put out of business, bankrupt and seeking reconciliation. Another pawn knocked off the chess board. 

So then was any of this really his fault? 

Not in the slightest.

Late November was when colorful bouts of leaves piled in the corners and around the front doors of Everain Palace, when icy winds took hold from north arctic fronts and chilled all those who inhabited it to the bone, or at least, those unfortunate enough to end up imprisoned in the steely corridors below. Dank, gray shadows fell over the surrounding dark atmosphere of the cold stone walls, seeping in elongated coverage that fell over the once festering city of New Amber, now reduced to nothing but a sickly small town until the return of the harvest season. If anyone even bothered coming back.

It was no secret why no one ever wanted to come back. Everyone knew about the curse. Rumors spread fast, and as the head of his father’s company Hyunjin couldn’t hide his scarred face forever. Afraid of becoming infected, afraid it would spread, half of the town vanished within the first few days. Another half of what was left disappeared over the course of the following two weeks, and the number of residents continued to dwindle even after that, until Hyunjin couldn’t even tell you how many remained as of today, six years later. Ten, maybe twelve royals, some small groups of peasants temporarily settling in until they too were told about the curse, and the dark secrets of the young man who lived beyond its walls.

He was once beautiful until he ticked off the wrong old lady. Now he lives out his days staring at a reflection of who he once was.

The part he hated the most was that he couldn’t deny it was the truth.

“Mirror!” he called, clapping his hands once, twice, three times. “Where is my mirror?! Where the hell did you put it this time?!?”

Begrudgingly with a sigh a shadow cascaded down along the stone wall, manifesting into something three-dimensional only a moment later. Blue hair fluttered softly around smooth, rounded features, a lone earring sparkling faintly in the pale moonlight, accentuating ripped jeans and the confines of a pitch-black hoodie. 

The whole ensemble was tacky and incredibly outdated. “Here…” His shadow said, holding out the small ornate mirror. His contractor grabbed it with anxious greedy hands, claws already beginning to form far too early thanks to the autumn equinox.

He paced away eagerly, collapsing to his corner of comforting feather downs and soft silk sheets, as he stared at a reflection of who he once was, who he used to be. How he would look today had he just pretended not to be home that ill-fated night.

“Jisung!” He barked, glaring angrily over his shoulder. “Come here.”

The boy-shadow sighed once more, nodding slowly as he had no right to refuse the man who had complete control over him. So he slowly sulked over toward the bed, shimmering at the seams as he passed through the inanimate threshold like a waking dream. Carefully his edges began to dissolve, bit by bit, until nothing but a faint air of smoke remained, settling dispersedly around the dim-lit bedroom.

Hyunjin never took his eyes off his past-in-the-present self, who only stared back at him with vacant, mournful eyes. “Show her to me.” he demanded, gently leaning a few inches forward. “Where is she?”

With careful swirls like a rippling tide the mirror faltered, spiraling and transforming the glass picture until the prince’s face was gone, the image of a girl taking his place.

Then another one. Then another one…

The mirror suddenly cracked. His hands tightened around the steel handle, a low growl resonating from behind parted lips curled up in a snarl.

“I’m sorry…” the mirror muttered, Jisung suddenly appearing out of the cracks to stand before him. “She’s still not here. I don’t know what you want me to do abo--”

“I don’t want you to do anything!” Hyunjin snapped, throwing down the mirror and shattering it into a million more pieces. “I just want her here! What’s taking her so long? Where is she?!”

“I--” Jisung winced as a few stray shards transpired through him, the feeling still foreign even after all these years and past mirrors similarly broken. “...I think these things just take time--”

“Time?! TIME?!?” Hyunjin was beyond livid. The moment he stood his servant shrunk back, nearly folding himself into the safe confinements of the old chiseled walls. “Time is something I don’t have. You know this, Jisung. If this goes on any longer I’ll…” His voice trailed off and he gulped, snatching a fistful of hair in his sharp dark claws. “...Why isn’t she here yet? What are you not telling me?”

“Telling you? Wha--”

“Shut up and answer me!” He demanded, slamming the boy against the wall. The poor guy would have sunken through had he, again, not been under such a binding spell. Instead the only thing he could do was resentfully comply, doing all he could to spitefully avoid eye contact. 

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know--”

“You’re working with her, aren’t you?” Hyunjin continued with narrowed eyes. He began to shake him, tightening his chokehold around the boy’s throat. 

Jisung gasped a bit, nails gritting against the echoing stone walls. “I-I really don’...” He tried to choke out. “...I really don’t know. I swear. Honest.”

“Lies.”

The tightening intensified. Jisung felt like he was nearly going to burst.

That’s when he’d gotten the idea.

“Y-You’re right! I lied! I know where she is!”

The moment he was let go Jisung gasped for breath, grateful as the heavy sinking feeling of doom left his vacant bones. Hyunjin blinked once, twice before narrowing his eyes again, taking a careful step back. 

“...I knew you were lying to me. Where is she?”

After holding up his hand for breath, his shadow slowly looked up from his knees, straightening and readjusting his strange, stretchy cufflinks of the hooded cloak he wore. “She’s lying dormant somewhere. I can get her for you.”

“Where?”

“Under...erm,” He awkwardly coughed. “...O-Over that way...out yonder.” 

Hyunjin didn’t seem very keen on the way his servant waved his hand dismissively in the random direction of “out yonder”; but it was a risk he was willing to take. He was desperate. Three more days and...and…

“Fine,” he answered at last, lavishly turning his cape away from him to pace towards the half-opened window. “You have until sunrise to bring her to me. I won’t wait a moment longer.”

“Wha?! But she--”

“Fine! Twenty-four hours. And you better return with the right one, or else.”

He gave a precise gaze over the slender curve of his princely shoulders, and that was all it took for his shadow to sink out of sight into the folds of stone-pressed cement below, the clouds blotting out the last rays of moonlight around them.

| One ❧

“Y/n~ Y/n, hurry up!! C’mon, we’re gonna be late!!”

“Yes, yes, I’m coming…”

Your friend Rei ran another ten yards ahead, impatiently stopping for the umpteenth time for your slow-leisurely pace to match up. “Uuuugh, c’mon already!”

“I said I’m coming…!”

...Sheesh. 

Autumn season. It was the time when the leaves changed their colors, one final requiem of individuality before fluttering away in the cool breeze, carried off somewhere to decompose and fall victim to the circle of life. It was also the time you and your friend Reiya, who you casually referred to as just Rei, spent all hours of the short-lived days travelling from village to town, in order to sell the wares of your fathers’ goods. They were both merchants, you see; it’s how the two of you had met, many years ago. But they were old now, the circle of life creeping up on them as well, and since all the men in your town were either taken or losers not worth your time, each of you vowed to take over the family business, carrying it wherever the wind decided.

...And anyway, neither of you were interested in the prospects of marriage; being tied down? And taking orders from some mustached buffoon? ...No thanks. It’s not that you hated the idea of settling down, just...not in your town. Not at your age. Not yet.

This way, things worked out well-- you and Rei got to travel the continent, avoiding arranged marriage and spending time in each other’s company selling your fathers’ wares and in turn, helping them out. They were free to enjoy a peaceful retirement while you added memories of wondrous places and escaped the evil clutches of a life tied down to a broomstick and a kitchen stove. It was perfect.

...Except for days like now, when you’d both woken up late and were at risk of losing a good place to set up shop. Your bad this time.

“Hurry up!!” Rei whined, doing her famous one-tap-two-step-hurry-up dance. The balls of her slippered feet hardly touched the stone pavement of the path leading to the city, her arms flapping like a chicken as she readjusted the triple-stacked backpack of goods from falling off her bony shoulders. “Let’s go let’s go let’s go!!”

“I told you, I’m coming!” You groaned, having been stuck with cart duty. It may have been nearly empty, but it sure didn’t feel like it. Normally it took two people to steer, in addition to horsepower by your trusted steed, Carrots, but unfortunately…

Carrots had too many carrots last night. And she wasn’t doing so well. 

It wasn’t serious, but it would be at least another few hours before she got it out of her system, so this blissfully unfortunate morning it was you and Rei having to wing it...with you having pulled the short end of the stick.

“Nnnneiiigh,” Carrots groaned from behind you. You gave her a gentle pat while trying your best to nudge the cart over the last hill. 

“It’s alright, girl. We’re almost there. Just a little farther.”

She let out a whine, almost seeming to nod in understanding.

“Ahh, hurry!” Rei called again, making haste for the city gate’s checkpoint line. All merchants and traveling businessmen (or women) were required to have their items evaluated and checked by city officials before being licensed a temporary warrant to sell.

When you made it to the top of the hill, already out of breath, you deflated-- then just about fell over when you saw how long the line was.

Oh man. This is all my fault. We shouldn’t have stayed up so late…

“You look like you could use a hand.”

You turned around to find a tall...ish, slender boy, with hair the color of chocolate and big, round eyes to match. A single silver earring hung from his right ear. “Oh, uh, that’s okay…”

“...Han,” he clarified, gripping one side of the cart. “Han Jisung. Just let me handle this. You should probably go help your friend; she looks like she’s about to fall over.”

You peered around the other side of the small wagon to see that, indeed, Rei was playing a game of balance, swaying a bit too far this way and that as she wobbled on flat calloused feet toward the back of the long line. But you? Leaving your father’s shop in a stranger’s hands? Even if it was in a populated area, and he did seem genuine…

“That’s okay.” You told him, grabbing tighter onto your side. “I can take it myself, I’m used to it. Thank you for the offer, though.”

“...” He blinked at you a moment, doing nothing at all but staring. Just when you were considering calling for Rei to come back, though, he laid off, tossing smooth hands in the air before shoving them in the front pocket of the strange cloak he wore. “Alright, alright. Didn’t mean to scare you or anything. If you insist, I’ll be on my way.”

He let go, and you felt the full weight of the cart pull your body downward, gravity affecting you in the worst way. ...Maybe…

“Um, hold on!” You shouted, and he stopped a quarter of the way down the hill, glancing up at you expectantly from over his left shoulder. Curse him. “Yeah?”

“...” You set your pride and suspicions aside. “...It would actually...well, I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to help. Just to the base of the hill.”

His eyes did the smiling for him, and was back at your side in seconds, taking the right flank while you managed Carrots and the left.

“Mind if I ask you something?” He pipped just steps later, eyes peering at you from over the cart as he jumped like a small puppy trying to see over a counter space. You groaned.

“I suppose I have no choice, so, sure. What is it?”

“Well…” He was beginning to mumble. “I know this may seem kind of sudden but, I have this...friend…”

“No.”

“Huh?”

The cart stopped rolling, delaying your schedule that much farther. “If this is headed where I think it is, I’m sorry but, I’m not interested. I’m very busy and I don’t have time for...love. Or a relationship. Other than the one I share with my customers.”

“Oh! No, no! Hahah…” Han had let go of the cart as well, scratching his cheek. “I-It’s not that! Nothing like that...I…”

His explanation was cut off by your sudden gasp, lunging forward to grab the cart as it started to descend down the steep slope. But it was too late; it slipped out of your grip like butter in a frying pan. “Oh no!”

The cart raced down the hill, gaining momentum and speed the farther it went. Crowds of people gasped as well, jumping and throwing themselves out of the speeding wagon’s path, until…

It reached the bottom, but it kept going. And it was headed right for Rei. 

Horror-stricken, you jolted, racing down whilst cupping your lips to scream out a warning call. “Rei! Look out!!”

Rei turned around. Her eyes widened.

But she remained unscathed. In the blink of an eye something dark and ink-like had raced over the pavement and grass fields; it manifested beneath the wheels, and the cart just...stopped.

“Rei!!” You cried, letting go of Carrots to plunder to her side. She’d fainted, but Han was there to catch her.

Han…

You stared him down nervously from the other side. “...How did you get here so fast?”

He carried your friend to the shade of the forest surrounding the city walls, others whispering and already beginning to spread gossip. You tried to block it out and ignore the intense stares and glaring from eighty-or-so business-competitors, following Rei’s limp body and coming to rest beside it, pulling her head into your lap. 

Though you were out of earshot, the whispering and curious eyes still followed you; so not good for business.

“Hey. I asked you something,” you said again, making sure to keep one eye on him, and one on the cart. “How did you get down there before I did? I didn’t even see you move.”

The strange boy didn’t say anything, save for laughing a bit. He then proceeded to ask you the oddest thing: “A man, or a beast...do you think we have a choice? On what we want to be?”

“What?” Your brow furrowed to form one solid unibrow. “Don’t ignore me. I asked you first. How did you get down there so quickly?”

Still, he refused to answer. “Technically, I asked you first. So you have to answer me.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” you replied, “but I will call for help if you don’t answer me right now.”

Seeing the anger on your face, the boy calling himself Han looked out into the near-distance, at the line steadily encouching forward and now forming a beeline around your abandoned shop. “Well, given that we are out of earshot...it’s not much of a threat, but...still,” he shrugged, almost to himself. “I suppose we wouldn’t want that.”

He set himself down criss cross applesauce, next to Rei’s spaghetti legs. You huffed, attempting to protectively heave her a smidge closer to you. “Alright, well, go on.”

He gave you the goofiest grin. “Well, it’s quite simple, really! I just swooped under the wagon, and jimmied the breaks! Worked like a charm!”

You frowned, not at all appeased with that answer. “You...jimmied the brakes?”

“Yep!”

“And it just...stopped.”

“That’s right.”

“...You dove beneath a speeding wagon and managed to attach yourself underneath?”

“That’s what it sounds like~”

“That’s what it sounds like?!”

“Look, we can point fingers all day at who-did-what, but if you don’t hurry and get back in line, you’re not gonna have any place at all to set up your little shop of knick knacks or...whatever it is that you sell. Is that a snow globe?” He asked, reaching for Rei’s bag. You swatted his hand away.

“...Fine, whatever. Thanks for saving her, I guess…”

“And?”

You pressed a kerchief from your pocket to Rei’s forehead, smoothing ebony locks from her face. “And?”

Han smiled. Again. “You gotta pay me back somehow, right?”

“For doing a good deed? Do I?” You scoffed. “And here I thought you were doing it just to be kind…”

“Well now you know~ ...I mean—“ He swallowed at the glare you gave him. “...What I mean is, I did do it. To be kind. But I’d love if it you could still pay me back by coming with me to—“

“I’m not going anywhere with you or your dumb friend, if that’s what you’re asking. Just save it for the birds.”

Rei was starting to stir, twitching slightly, her eyes squinting in and out of consciousness. You began patting her cheeks and calling her name, but unfortunately, she still wasn’t fully there yet. That, and the annoying man at the other side of her wasn’t finished. “I have a proposal for you,” he stated.

“A proposal?” You didn’t like the sound of that. “...I’m not interested. Look, I’ll just, give you something from my shop, and you can be on your merry way, okay? Here, what about that snow globe you were eyeing before?” You reached over Rei’s body, fishing it out and handing him the novelty. “Take it. It’s yours.”

The glass globe held the contents of a small gray castle, surrounded in a sea of red roses. Han took the globe from your hand, examining the structure and looking almost nostalgically somber as he watched the fake snow fall. “...Thank you, but it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want?” You groaned. “Look, just take whatever. I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. I have more important things to worry about right now.”

“...What I want,” Han said, ignoring that last part of your statement, “is for you to answer my question.”

“What? What quest— aah, I told you already, I’m not—!”

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

The way he’d cut you off and stated his query so seriously made your head spin; it certainly caught you off guard, that was for sure. “...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast?”

Thoughts slowly circled your mind, not knowing what to think. You had no idea where any of this had come from, the only responses coming to mind countering questions: who is Han, what is he up to, why did he want to know what you thought of such a peculiar idea…

“Well?” He egged, leaning backwards.

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

What? Help you out?

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his, hoping that if you gave him an honest answer, perhaps he would leave. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

You didn’t know it, as you’d turned away; but the moment those words left your parted lips, his eyes shone with the hope of a thousand suns, dawning the horizon after the longest winter storm. 

You’d turned away to shuffle for a bucket and some more handkerchiefs in Rei’s Bag of Wonders, holding out the bucket without turning your eyes away. “I changed my mind. Make yourself useful and get me some water from the nearby stream, or in town, whatever. Just—“

But when you cast your eyes back to where Han was sitting, he was gone.

| Two ❧

“You must have been having one hell of a dream to stay passed out for so long.”

“Ahaha…” Rei buried her fingers in her hair, entangling them in the sea of ebony that flowed behind her and came to a steady delta tied near the ends. “Sorry about that. It was like I wanted to wake up, but I just couldn’t. Like something...some kind of invisible wall was preventing me from doing so.”

“Hmm…”

The two of you had made it into town safely, with little trouble other than what you’d previously gone through with that strange boy, Han. After getting checked in and circling the shopping district three times, your luck finally began turning around when one of the vendors apparently felt ill and decided to turn in early; bad for him, but great for the two of you. The spot couldn’t have been more perfect, either: positioned right in the center of all the hustle and bustle, it attracted plenty of attention, and the moment you set up shop, customers came lining up at the window.

The two of you worked for hours to make up lost time, grinding your fingers to the bone, shuffling around each other to count coins, search for wares, and sign receipts of official purchase. By the time the lunch bell rang, you and Rei were about ready to fall over.

“I’m tired,” Rei moaned, collapsing to her knees and digging under the counter for your grocery supply. Woefully, her hand came back...empty. “Ah, we’re all out of bread! And apples…”

“What about that bag of trail mix you bought two days ago?” You asked while organizing receipts. Someone had to do it, and you knew Rei sure as heck wasn’t going to.

She sighed, shaking her head. “Carrots and I polished it off yesterday. ...Oh, carrots.” Her stomach growled right on cue, a forlorn sigh escaping dry lips. “...I’m so hungry...”

Something about that previous statement made you pause, inclining your head to the right in thought. …Carrots…Carrots…?

...Oh no. Oh hell’s bells, you’d completely forgotten about Carrots!

Without a moment to lose you dropped the stack of receipts you’d been tidying up onto the counter, hopping out of the wagon and running as fast as your boot-clad feet could take you. Your knees were still stiff and exhaustion weighed you down, but you couldn’t allow that to stop you. Not when that poor (dumb) horse was wandering and hopefully still waiting for you.

“Hey!” Rei yelled, her head leaning out the window. “Where are you going?! You forgot your coin purse!” She waved said object in the air, as if asking for a thief to come and swipe it. “I want lemons and some gum drops! I saw a candy shop about a block down!!”

“You can’t have candy for lunch!” You hollered back. “And I can’t right now, you’ll have to get lunch yourself today. There’s something I forgot.”

Her confused expression said everything else for her, but you didn’t have time to chat about lunch plans. You had to get that horse.

You ran with all your might (what little you had left) out of the shopping district, down three blocks, and past the city gate...that is, until a guard stopped you.

“Woooah there, little miss.” The man grabbed your arm, effectively pulling you backward; and he had quite the grip to boot. “I’m afraid you can’t just go hauling eighty out here like that. I’ll need to see some I.D.”

You cast anxiety-riddled eyes to the man, making sure each gesture showcased your anger. “What? To leave the city? ...But I’m leaving, not entering!” Your anxious gaze sought out into the trees, the pastures of bitter decay and spooky autumn silence where Carrots was last seen. “Please, I need to get out there. My horse is missing, I’m afraid I forgot about her after a...mishap...and ended up abandoning her. She’s sick, so I don’t have time to play games!”

“That’s all fine and dandy, ma’am, but rules are rules. Show me your I.D., please.”

“I…! …”

Reluctantly, you yanked your arm away, digging for…

...Nothing, because you’d forgotten your coin purse. The image of Rei waving it with pride and worry left a bitter taste in your mouth. And your vendor verification permit was left in the shop, as well. “...I don’t have any. My permit is with my co-partner, back in the shopping district.”

“Hm. Well, you’ll just have to go back and get it, then.”

“What?! I don’t have time for that!” You turned pleading eyes to the officer, prayerfully searching for understanding alongside a missing horse. “Please sir, she couldn’t have wandered very far. I’ll be right back! I’m only going--”

He shook his head. “Sorry miss, like I said, rules are rules. Because of the recent string of kidnappings, all residents and visitors alike are required to provide valid identification before coming in or leaving city walls. Mayor’s orders.”

You’d been thinking about making a run for it or finding another guard to reason with until the word kidnappings made its way into the conversation. Normally you would have been curious and not too concerned...however… 

...That’s considering you heard it from a local paper floating in the breeze, or along the gossiping grapevine from one vendor to another, one chatty socialite to the next whispering to each other among the lively bustle of city life. Why were you just now hearing about it here? From an officer? How long had this been going on?

In all the questioning silence, you basically forgot about...what was it you were looking for again? “Um, forgive me for prying, but...kidnappings?”

“...E-Er...that’s...” The officer flinched, taking a half step back. “...Um...well...dammit all…” He removed his thick uniform hat, scratching his head a moment before readjusting it to fit tall and proud. He cleared his throat. “...Please forget I said anything. If you wish to leave the city, I’ll need to see some valid I.D.”

“......”

He simply stood there, pretending as if nothing had happened. The only proof you had was the sweat swimming along his forehead, but surely he’d blame that on the nonexistent autumn heat and the fullness of his uniform.

You had no choice but to reenter the masses.

- ❧ -

When you return to the gates, the same officer approved of your vending license (still sweating from that “autumn heat,”) signalling for the men in the tower to let you through. It was late afternoon now, the skyline growing dangerously close to dusk; when you’d returned to shop a while earlier, you couldn’t admit to Rei that you’d lost her best friend next to you (though some friend she was having no idea about the whole thing...), so you were left with little choice but to play along and have lunch until it was time to work again. The late-day crowds were always far less stressful than morning shifts, so confident she would be fine on her own you took back off for the South entrance the moment the work bell rang.

“Carrots...Carrots...looking for a food-poisoned horse…”

Sigh. The words were a groan from your lips as you trudged about a floor of dead leaves and twisted bare tree branches. The skyline was starting to wear thin, every step you took noisy and either resulting in startling a field mouse or alerting a wandering bear out of hibernation of your whereabouts. Not an ideal situation to be in.

I’ve been wandering these woods for three hours now. Dang it, where is she?! ...Normally, Carrots was a good horse; she followed you around, did as told, and when you did lose her (...as this wasn’t the first time…) she stayed put and waited for you to return; like that time in Cresentmoon Harbor (for it was literally shaped like a crescent), when you and Rei had been so distracted by some dashingly handsome fisherman named Minhee and wanted to hear his tales of the rough blue sea that you’d, yes, left your horse astray, where a group of thugs almost snatched her. 

That had actually been a fun day, watching Rei throw apples and trinkets and club the ringleader with his own beatstick. This time, however, you’d known exactly where you left her. You were sure there were no gangs or thugs near a place like this; not a clean-cut, safeguarded place like Westwind...any yet, Carrots hadn’t been there. Not at the top of the hill where you left her, or beneath it, beside it, or anywhere nearby.

...Although...didn’t that cityguard mention something about kidnappings?!

That stupid horse. I knew I should have overruled Rei and named her Dumdum. She went and got herself kidnapped! URGH, I had to go pulling the short end of the stick today--

A sharp wind blew by without warning, causing you to shiver. Mournfully, you wondered if maybe you should turn back and enlist Rei’s help after all...have her summon back that courageous, beatstick-smacking frenzy… 

Oh, but how heartbroken she’d be to hear of Carrot's disappearance! ...It was all for naught, though... 

Carefully, you turned around and began walking the way you came, one step, then two...then stopped. Looking out into the moors, the forest beyond, the stretch of trees and forest decay that went on for miles and miles seemed...different, somehow. It went on for miles and miles and...miles and miles and miles. It didn’t seem to have an end.

I know I didn’t walk that far… Now now, Y/n. Can’t see the forest for the trees, hm? It’s no big deal, I just wandered a bit farther than I thought. I’ll start heading back now.

Because Rei was the fun-loving, clueless bubbly-type, you had to be the strong one (not including Wild, Pissed-Off Rei). You were the confident, analytical, and ambitious of the two. You prefered logic and data, and relied almost whole-heartedly on common sense, with few exceptions. And as any rational person of your nature would, you’d made sure to mark the entire way you’d come; so it was no big deal, wandering out a bit farther than you had intended. 

...Except...

...The first marker never came. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You walked in the opposite direction for precisely 1,000 steps and counting, and all that greeted you were the same exact scene of bare trees and dead leaves. In the same order. In the same tones and volumes and shapes.

It was going to start getting dark in the next two hours. You stopped, thinking. Running numbers. Fishing for data…...fishing…...fish…...Minhee...heheh…

No, no! Staying on track was crucial at a time like this…! 

But you ended up standing there, for another ten, twenty minutes maybe, not sure what to do. There was a strange vibe in the air, you could feel it. The way it wafted through the air and settled on your skin. Rattling your bones. It almost felt like it was bribing you in another direction. 

So you did an illogical thing unlike your nature: you kept walking straight ahead, ignoring it for as long as you could. But dammit, the scenery never changed! Not after an hour, not after two… 

You were tired at this point, collapsing hopelessly by the same tree you passed a hundred times...and then you got an idea, like a fog lifting from your brain (Why hadn’t you thought of this sooner?!). Grabbing a twig, you made a small notch in the tree. Then you took off running, jogging at a brisk pace. Never making a single right or left turn, not even in the slightest. Headed only one direction, following alongside the setting sun.

That same notch bid you a pleasant hello eight and a half minutes later. To make sure it wasn’t just a coincidence, you walked another eight and a half minutes; same notch, same place, same twig resting lifelessly to the right. Same tree.

It was getting dark now. Soon the sun would be completely gone over the horizon, tucked away for twelve hours of sleep before returning to shine light on a new day. And you had no horse to show for it; more importantly, you were lost. Trapped in some kind of...weird bermuda triangle of decaying forest with no sign of life anywhere. 

Great, just great. I hate my luck… wait… 

...Ah, yes. Conveniently, just when you’d thought to possibly scream out your frustrations into your work apron, rattling on about how much luck despises you, and how you despise her back, maybe shed a few tears since no one was around, a tower of billowing smoke caught your attention, a sign of life that hadn’t been there before. 

. . . 

You should have been more cautious. Normally, you would have been. But given recent events…

“Hello…?” You called softly, pushing the door open; though, let’s be honest, the door really seemed to just...open itself. “Is anybody here?”

The house was old and worn. A small cottage just big enough for one, it must have been at some point; now, it was practically all but decayed along with the surrounding forest. Another heap of dead wood and rotted roots among many. A faintly ripe and sickeningly sweet scent wafted about the torn chamber, wrapping around sagging furniture, torn drapes, and a half-caved roof that gave clear sight to the full moon, bulging and cackling in a clouded manner.

It was a stark contrast to the decrepit old woman beckoning you from within. 

“Yes, yes… Come in, my child.”

| Three ❧

A few hours earlier, Han Jisung had just been minding his own business, a faceless shadow of a dark hood browsing Westwind goods, humming a fiery tune, all while coming up with a plan for smuggling an innocent human girl into the cursed city of New Amber. He was pleasantly aware of the time; he had exactly ten hours left before he was due back at the palace, girl in tow, in order to keep his handsome blue-haired head and devilishly charming eyes.

He had time. The two cities may have been four hours apart on horseback, a diagonal stretch of twisted forest and steep valleys between them, but being a shadow he could just-- ...zip...and zig...and...zag...right beneath the… … … 

...He wouldn’t be returning alone. He was transporting a human girl. That had no magical curse or powers to speak. The only way to return was the old-fashioned way...which meant…

He only had half the time he thought he did. Balls.

Making his way through the afternoon crowds, he followed three winding back alleyways before making sure the coast was clear of wandering eyes, seeping into the broken cobblestone and dashing through history below, long forgotten structures and fossils of stories past: a mineshaft, a tavern sign, a snuffed-out bonfire. At just a block away he set out a brisk pace for where he last placed a tracking mark upon the one known as Rei.

It had been a simple plan; since Y/n was impossible to get near, he merely embedded a small tadpole of his shadowy spirit into the other. Since they traveled together, where one was found, the other wouldn’t be far behind. Find Rei, find Y/n.

But beside that fact, it was starting to itch; being without a part of him for too long caused an empty, nagging feeling to rise and fall through his bones like a waxing, waning tide, going back and forth, back and forth. It got downright maddening after a while, almost like an addiction, to the point where eventually, he couldn’t stand to be without himself any longer. If he wasn’t whole, what was he?

...For a shadow...being whole meant everything.

“I see you’re feeling better,” he greeted her, the girl whose life he very well saved. Rei turned around from her stockpile of cash, where she placed many bags of coins in the Candy For Me! ♫ pile and few in the Dumb Taxes :( pile.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Her face lit up tenfold; an oddity given the fact she should have been unconscious for ninety-percent of their previous encounter... “You’re the guy that saved me before! I thought you looked familiar!”

She threw a tarp over the stacks of cash she’d been organizing before, as if that was going to...protect it, or something. She rested her chin in palm, elbows propped upon the counter space. Smiled.

“So what brings you by? What can I help you with? Oh,” she smirked, wagging a single brow. “Could I interest you in this love potion?” 

A bottle of perfume made its way between them from out of nowhere, dangling like mistletoe. It...Han couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of it. 

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for Y/n by chance, would you~?” Rei asked.

The proposed bottle had the painted label scratched off, where the replaced paint job read Love Potion No.9, along with a price tag of thirty-five coins. Han chuckled, doing his best to play off the awkward gesture. He had to tear his eyes away from it.

“Thank you, but no,” he stated, gently lowering her arm to the table. The sliver of his missing portion swam back into him, through his fingertips and up his arm, and this didn’t seem to go unnoticed by Rei, though he distracted her into shrugging it off. “I actually am looking for Y/n, if you happen to know where she is? I suppose you’re right about that part, actually.”

“Oh? Really?!” Rei’s face lit tenfold...again. She squealed. “Eeeeek, I knew it! Oh, I just love when this happens!”

Her face thrust straight into his, nearly close enough to kiss. It startled him into backing distance. 

“What is it?!?” She cried excitedly. “What do you need to see her for?! Oh, please tell me it’s to exchange letters! Or trinkets!” She looked like the shadiest business woman ever in the next second. “Y/n may have said she was organizing paperwork, but I knew what was really going on. Tee-hee!”

“...Ahh…” ...Shoot, what the hell was he supposed to say?! This girl didn’t seem like the type to appreciate being let down... “...There’s something I…” He gulped. “There’s something I wish to show her. Before setting out, that is.”

“Oh…” Her frown encased her disappointment. “I see...well, actually…” She twirled a strand of sleek black hair away from her tan complexion. “Y/n left about an hour ago...no, it has to have been longer than that…” Her frown deepened, looking off into the distance. “She took off as soon as lunch ended, and she hasn’t come back yet. I think she said she was looking for something…? But…” 

Now she was looking down vacantly into the counterspace. There was a dull sheen in her eyes.

“...I’m starting to worry. Y/n never just runs off for hours on end like this. It’s not like her at all. ...What if something…”

Han put a stop to that thought: one, because he hated seeing girls cry, and two, because he could tell she was the messy-crier that would get snot and tissues everywhere, including his hair and earring; also there was three: his ass on a silver platter, courtesy of His Angry-Cursed-Forever Highness. If he failed to secure Y/n…

He didn’t wanna think about it. Which is why he swiftly set Rei upright, patting her shoulders and promising that he would go out and look for her. She couldn’t have wandered far, seeing as her whole livelihood was on the line (and in the hands of someone like Rei…whom he didn’t know that well, but still…)

“Can you give me an idea of where she may have gone? Which way did she go?”

“Yeah, sure! She went that way, and, oh yeah, she took our vending license with her! Do you think she could have gone to City Hall, maybe…?”

It was unlikely. City Hall was in the other direction, to the north-east; and according to Rei, Y/n had ventured south. The only thing there was lower-class common folk and the city gates, meaning the only conclusion he could come to was that she needed to verify her legitimacy in order to continue business, or she needed out.

After questioning some guards under a guise of glamour and shade (which was necessary for...private reasons), he was at last directed to a middle-aged man who claimed to have allowed the girl to leave some three to four hours ago. Before they could get an answer out of him as to why he wanted to know, Han vanished into the shadows like a thief in the night, slipping through the straying crowds towards the nearest alleyway, where he plopped down, zipped below, and popped right back up on the other side of the great city wall.

Removing his hood, he looked around, scanning the area for any clues of Y/n’s whereabouts. But, of course, nothing.

Dammit, it was getting late! It was already late!

Han bit his nails, fuming. Pacing. He was going to be in so much trouble if he didn’t…!

...Sigh. Screw it all. He’d just have to look for her. If he found her fast enough, he could come up with some plan to make it back to Everain before sunrise.

He began his search heading South, into the clamour of trees. Past one tree, two, five, twenty. Deeper and deeper he traveled, gradually becoming one with the earth and expanding his search among the elements. Beneath the earth, brushing against roots of trees and flowerbeds, he could “see” everything-- as far as a twelve mile radius. 

His shadowed extensions stretched over the land, covering all ground within reach like the hands of a clock, time traveling faster and faster until…!

...He found it. Er, her. His senses zoomed in on a house, caved in from years of age and resentment, crumbling to dust even now outside the confines of Y/n...and……someone else…

...Someone he knew.

Out of breath, he nearly choked in the enclosure of his own realm, eyes wide and heart frozen stiff. It took every last bit of strength to push himself free, for he couldn’t escape fast enough; not when a demonic witch like her was around. 

Except...he’d started to run the wrong way. And then he stopped entirely, unable to move.

He hated that decrepit old hag. After everything that happened...the magic, the sorrow, the black fires of hell...he wanted nothing to do with her. He’d sworn that the moment he saw her again, it would be too soon. The witch that had taken his humanity.

It was she who had cast them all to hell in a handbasket, after all.

Standing there beneath the blotted night, gentle caresses of wind cascading and percolating through strands of brown and blue, he looked down to his bare hands, setting focus to the rivets of small scars where rivers of shadow flooded his veins.

A knock at the door. A sneer. A warning glare.

He tightened his grip on the air, so free and billowing carelessly in contrast to him.

A push. A harsh remark. A confident smile.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Anger… Resentment… Fire…

And…then…

He gasped for air once more. Not now. Now was not the time to think. He needed to act, to push all of this past him. It was the only way to break the curse and save Hyunjin, and in return, himself. The entire palace of Everain— the whole city, perhaps— was counting on him.

...Shadow. The only thing I remember...is black.

 Cringing, he threw caution to the wind, where fear was meant to reside with the birds.

- ❧ -

The house was as old and vile as the woman who lived there. Vines snaked and slithered their way around the entire enclosure like a brood of thorned vipers, between cracks in the wall panels and over the steps leading to a gaping front door, just asking to trip its prey into it’s dark clutches. Into her clutches; those wrinkled leathered hands dripping with metaphorical blood and darkness.

Han hated all of it. He’d known about the Witch’s home for a long time, but he refused to ever step foot on her accursed soil (...until now, that is). The problem was, her biome was always changing, shifting and teleporting all over the place. Few unlucky souls who had survived to see it dubbed it Howl’s Moving Castle.

That title entirely ruined the book for him. Not that he particularly enjoyed reading, anyway; but he refused to lift it or so much as look at the book’s spine resting in the lavish, dusty library back home.

“Hey,” he called, marching right in. There wasn’t time for cold feet or second thoughts; if he didn’t have Y/n, there would be no point in going back. Returning without Y/n meant certain death via Hyunjin, but going through the Witch’s Biome meant likely death via whatever disdainful plot the Witch could come up with. At least facing the Witch’s path, he had a slim chance of making it out alive. If he were fast enough.

He’d thought about it on the way over: before, he had no powers to speak of. He’d been a regular, average teenage boy just trying to make it up and through adulthood, figuring out what he wanted to do with his life. But with the Witch’s curse, all that changed; he was essentially one with the darkness; and darkness was everywhere. Especially here. 

Assuming Y/n was conscious and able to move, he calculated that with high enough confidence and self-esteem, he should have no problem distracting the foul old hag long enough for his last hope to escape. (And Lord knew he had plenty of that to go around...)

Darkness clouded the entire room, choking out all light save for a few small rays of moonlight. The temperature seemed to be dropping 10 degrees every second. “Hello?” He tried again, checking left, right. “I...I know you’re here. Witch.” He was already beginning to seethe. “Come out. Where is Y/n?”

There was no response. Nothing creaked, no one croaked. Not even the wind outside made a sound.

Then something darted behind him, to the right, and he parried the opposite direction, biting his lower lip. Here it came. The worst part.

A single field mouse made its way into the faint slivers of rooftop moonlight. And there it sat, perched on its hind legs, whiskers twitching and tail dancing rhythmically across the uneven floor.

“How do you like?” came a creaky frail voice from beyond. Her voice was a sour note to his ears.

Han gritted his teeth, tasting blood on the horizon. “I’m not here to rate your latest experiments,” he spat. “That better not be Y/n. Show yourself, now.”

A lingering moment passed before the fleabag chuckled, stepping ancient bones into the small pool of light. “Alright, alright,” she said, in a mockingly chiding tone. “No need to get so angry. That’s what got your friend into so much trouble, after all. And look what it did to you.”

Two minutes in, and she was already hitting a nerve. Nerves that needed to remain untouched were his plan to go smoothly. “Don’t tell me what to do. I don’t take orders from you. You already ruined me. What more could you possibly do?”

A dark foreboding thought brewed up a storm in her eyes, just lingering on the edge of sanity. “Believe me,” she rasped, “I showed you both mercy.”

Han flinched. He couldn’t help it. He wanted to explode, yet cower in terror, all at once. He was livid, yet terrified-- anxious-- and a little sick to his stomach. “Give me Y/n. Right now. I didn’t come here to chat.”

The old woman smiled. “I can’t,” she simply stated, not moving an inch.

“Why not?!”

“Because you’re standing on her.”

Horrified, Han shot his gaze downward. Corsarn, he didn’t think he’d been standing on anything but the…!

But there was nothing but paled wooden planks. The Witch laughed. “Ahahah, not physically on her, dear. Though this house is so old, you may as well be...I’m surprised the floors haven’t caved in to match the roof.”

After holding her gaze a moment too long, he took a step back, flitting his eyes between Witch and supposedly underground wardrobe. “Open the door. Slowly.”

“Oh, so now I’m supposed to be taking your orders?” She scoffed, sighing at the end. “My, how times have changed…”

“Just do it!” he ordered.

The Witch gave a stern, slight scowl. “Oh, fine. I’m out of enough magic to put another curse on you anyway,” she muttered. Tapping her ancient walking stick once, twice upon the rotting floors, something clicked below, and the square space where Han had been standing swung open. “Just so you know,” she added, “I took the liberty of having a little fun, as you probably already guessed. She’ll be out for a few hours, but I don’t foresee death in her future; at least, not in the near one,” she chuckled.

“You--!” ...Rrgh. He still had to bite his tongue. His lip was already going to be busted and sore tomorrow. 

Trotting down steadily with caution, before the gaze of a putrid old smile he descended the hidden staircase, never once letting his guard down. The girl he sought was safely snoozing in one piece, lying like a waking dream...other than being unconscious.

He gathered her up, using shadow to cross the room, just in case a trap was lying dormant on the way over, and with Y/n in his arms, he almost thought about attempting to drag her into the Shadowworld with him, just so he didn’t have to face the old has-been again and make a clean getaway.

But it was too risky. And likely, it wouldn’t work; so carefully, he placed one nimble foot in front of the other, across the blank room, up the stairs, and into the familiar darkness from moments before. The Witch was still waiting for him, still as a statue in the exact location she had been. She followed him all the way to the door, tittering at his suspicion of the whole thing. 

She then watched as they made it off the porch. “Here,” she announced, sensing his urgency; for he’d just been about to make a run for it before she called him.

Nervously, he turned around halfway, holding Y/n tighter.

The bat continued her chuckling. She scooped down surprisingly swift, tossing something gray and furry into the air. It landed haphazardly onto his arm, clinging for dear life to his sleeve with a faint squeak! before scampering up to his shoulder. “Take him,” she said, making a shooing motion with her hand. “I have no need for the pitiful thing. He can keep you company on your way back.”

Company? Oh, no no no. He didn’t think so. He wasn’t stupid; Han knew of her tricks. The rat was probably a spy, or some kind of ticking time bomb. Forcefully, he shifted his grip on the girl, snatching the creature from its place--

...Except, he meant to throw it back. He did. He would have tossed the wretched thing to the ground and stomped on its brains without a second thought.

But it’d cried. Shrieked. Wailed. He knew the sound of terror when it howled.

Glancing up, he saw that it was crying. Actually crying.

Something was off. It had to be human...or at least, have some sort of intelligent wit.

Loosening his grip, he allowed the creature to squirm and wiggle its way free, scampering up his arm and tucking itself fearfully in the pouch of his hood with a nosedive. Sensations of trembling fell against his upper backside.

“Take care on your way home; you may need it.” 

A twisted smile. Tch.

Glowering amongst the laughter, he left the darkness behind him.

| Four ❧

“How may I assist you, dear?” The old woman asked.

Your eyes scanned the area, dilating and adjusting to the faint light. “I’m sorry,” you began, giving a small, polite bow. “I didn’t know anyone was home.”

“Oh, now, that’s alright~” The woman insisted, beckoning you farther in. “Come, come, sit! Make yourself a home. I’m the one who invited you in, yes?”

“...” Carefully you nodded, moving with caution to take a seat at the dusty worn table. 

“Now,” she said, popping joints as she settled across from you. “What can I do for you today?”

“...Do for me?”

She chuckled. “Yes, yes…” Her eyes were impenetrable, boring into yours. You had trouble looking away. “No one comes here without a purpose. There are no happy accidents.”

“......” Again, you found yourself hesitating, having trouble forming the right words. Words were becoming a limited resource all of a sudden. 

“Well~?” the woman pressed.

“...” You swallowed dryly. Something just wasn’t right; but who were you to lie to an old woman? In her own home, nonetheless. “I’m looking for someone...my horse, actually.”

“Hmm, I see…”

“She wandered off...well, no, that’s not true.” You sighed. “I left her by accident. I abandoned her without meaning to, out front of Westwind city. We’d woken up late, my friend and I, and in our hurry and a near-death experience thanks to someone, I ended up forgetting all about her. When I went back to fetch her and bring her home, she was gone.”

“Oh, my…” The old woman was still smiling. “That sounds like some adventure the two of you had! Though, tell me…” She tilted her head. “Who is this “someone” that got in your way?”

“Hm? Oh,” You sighed, again. “Some strange boy that just showed up out of nowhere and offered to help me move the cart downhill. He’s no one special.”

The woman chuckled. “Well, he must be to have stepped up and offered you assistance in this day and age,” she replied. “What was his name?”

There was an intensity you didn’t like. As if she were interrogating you for answers. 

Dryly, again, you swallowed.

“Han-something, I think. Han...Jisung.”

That’s when it had been over. But you hadn’t known that; not yet.

“Han Jisung…” The woman repeated. She was clearly searching the archives. 

Then she found what she was looking for, and curving crooked fingers skyward, she beckoned your hands to be placed atop of her on the table.

“Give me your hands, dear. I know just what it is that you need.”

If only you hadn’t listened to her… 

- ❧ -

You were no fool. You saw what the witch had done to you, just before falling unconscious.

Stirring now, you curled into the weight of something dark and soft, something sheltering and warm against the cold night air. Whatever it was held you tighter, the world slowing down.

“Y/n? Are you alright? Can you hear me?”

Ow. Yes.

One of the side-effects must have been a splitting headache…

“Yes...I can hear--”

Rrpt! Hold on a second. You knew that voice…!

In all haste you shot upright, only to collide foreheads with Han Jisung, the both of you growling in pain. Your headache just got ten times worse.

“Ow…! Sh*t, of all times and places…” After counting one, two Mississippis for the pounding to decrease, you sent him a glare, blurry vision mixed with clouded judgement. “What are you doing? What’s going on, where are you taking me?!”

The foolish boy snorted, ignoring you to continue walking. As your eyes cleared of drowsiness, you could see the two of you were alone, out in the middle of the forest. “A simple thank you wouldn’t hurt, y’know. I did just finish saving your life a few hours ago.”

“You…?” Hesitantly, you looked around again, pressing a hand to your forehead in feeble attempt to decrease anymore throbbing heartbeats. “...Where are we? I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put me down this instant.”

“You sure do ask a lot of questions for someone who was just cursed and knocked out.”

“I said, put me--! …” 

You paused. The whole world seemed to.

Carefully, slowly, you turned your face back towards the sunlight. “...Wh...What did you say?” 

Han snorted. Again. “You heard me. You waltzed right into the Witch’s Biome like an idiot, and now you’re one of us. I don’t know what I’m going to tell Hyunjin…”

...You’d stop listening towards the end. Everything just naturally tuned out, your eyes falling aimlessly to stare vacant holes into the dimensional rift of the traveling space around you. 

“In case you’re wondering,” Han’s voice cut through, calling for your attention once more. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m taking you to my friend; well, he’s really more of my...uhm…”

You waited vacantly for an answer.

“...Uhhh…”

You didn’t have time for this. Not that anything mattered or made sense anymore. Still, you weren’t going to idly sit here and listen to Tweedle Dee make dumb noises the rest of the night. “He’s what?” you pressed, aggravation clearly showing. “Is he your master or something?”

Han Jisung nearly dropped your hungover cursed arse. Which told you you were right, even if he kept insisting you were wrong. It was pretty funny to see him fuming and hot under the collar the rest of the walk.

Speaking of walking, you had fidgeted and demanded to walk by yourself, but after nine nos and a tenth yes, you found you had absolutely no strength in your wobbly, jelly-like legs. Resulting in Han carrying you like an unfortunate groom once more.

Yes, you’d argued for him to take you back. But no, he refused.

Which meant he had to be that kidnapper the city guard mentioned after all.

This lead you to be afraid, and rightly so; what if Han killed you?! What if he actually was dangerous, and he had been lying to you from the start. Nothing he’d been saying up until this point made sense anyway; and just look at the way he was dressed. Only crazy people wore such strange, unusual attire, so futuristic and bizzare-looking. 

And, you noticed, the closer you got to...wherever he was taking you...the more and more his appearance changed.

It was gradual, slow at first; just a random strand of hair, a speck of color in his eye that hadn’t been there before. Then, out of nowhere, it was like time sped up around him, and his eyes became a solid, bright blue, his hair a darker contrast, and that lone earring he wore shimmered with a paradoxical bright darkness, like shadows giving birth to light.

It was...insanity. Yet, regrettably, you had to admit he’d grown incredibly attractive. 

Han didn’t speak much the second half of your trip, and neither did you. You were too busy trying to process what was happening, and he was lost in his own world, eyes never leaving the road ahead except to occasionally check on you. It was a nonverbal communication: Are you still doing okay? / Yes, I’m fine. Quit staring at me. / Yeah, okay, you’re welcome.

About two hours later, the two of you arrived at the gates of an old, rustic castle, and a city that looked all but lost.

| Five ❧

Your headache had at last subsided by the time you arrived at Everain Palace. ...Or at least, that’s what the sign said it was called. You were barely able to read it through the layers of rust and vines, however. “This is the place?”

“Yep,” your entourage announced, setting you down beside him. “It’s been a few hours now, so you should have the strength to walk again, at least to your room. But I’m sure I can get some lackey somewhere to carry you the rest of the way if you can’t manage.”

“Hold on...what?”

“What?”

He finished setting you down, and you wobbled your way back a few steps, leaning against the gate’s archway for support. “I’m not staying here. I can’t. I have to get back to Rei and find Carrots, my stupid horse. Then, I’m renaming her Dumdum and we’re sweeping all of this under the rug.”

Instead of laughing, or perhaps getting a little angry even, Han Jisung stared at you with the most pitiful glance anyone had ever given another human soul. It was dreadful, but soft, somewhat loving, and oozing with regret.

And then he said those abysmal words you were scared of hearing all along.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. But I’m afraid you won’t be traveling anywhere anytime soon.”

You stared at him dumbfounded. This was it, you thought. The truth revealed. He really was a kidnapper; and now, you were his next victim. The whole charmingly dopey and idiotic act had been just that: an act. And you’d fallen for it.

So you did the next thing you could think of, seeing as fighting and running away were out of the question in your weak and disoriented state.

“KIDNAPPER!!!” You screamed. “THIEF! HUMAN TRAFFICKING!! HELP!!!”

But soon you remembered your surroundings, where you were at this time: a rundown city that appeared to have been abandoned for years, closed off in an eternal slumber. Everything was covered in vines and dust, and hardly anything made a sound.

You were doomed.

Han rushed over quick to keep your mouth shut while sweating at the seams, but a chomp to his hand did him right good, and while he was bouncing around and airing out his hand like a blubbering buffoon you tried making a run for it. Keyword: tried.

In the end, you only made it as far as the circle of trees isolating this town before something pierced the back of your neck, and you were a prisoner of sleep all over again.

- ❧ -

You aren’t quite sure; perhaps you slept for eight, nine hours. All you knew is that when you awoke, there was sunshine pouring through the curtain-laced window like the brightest waterfall.

A...curtain-laced window...and silk sheets… … … 

You hopped to it the next second that thought circled your mind.

No. Oh, no…

...This certainly wasn’t your room. Your room was with the stars, the ocean, the grassy plains and trees, Rei at your side. This was an actual room, complete with a bed, canopy, dresser and wardrobe, a nightstand, and an additional table with matching chairs, four to be exact; two large windows, standing side by side at opposite ends of the room to your left. One beside the table, one near the door.

There was a note left for you on the nightstand (to your left) as well.

Y/n -

I’m sorry I had to knock you out like that. But you’re one of us now, and I can’t afford to let you leave. It’s important. Lives are at stake. You have to trust me, please.

There’s someone I’d like for you to meet. More like I need you to. I’ll explain more later, when you’re awake. If you read this and you still don’t feel well, feel free to take another couple of hours to yourself, to get your bearings; but don’t sleep for too long. I’ll wake you when we’re more pressed for time.

Again, I’m really sorry about all this. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me, but I get it if you need more time. Just promise not to take it out on Hyunjin, if you happen to run into him first.

Signed, Han, your kidnapper

There was an additional piece of paper that fell from behind the original.

P.S. - That was just a joke. Don’t freak out. I’m not a bad guy, really. At least, not as bad as you probably think I am.

…

You didn’t know what to think of anything anymore. This was all just too much. What on earth had happened to you? How did you get roped into all of this? ...You’d just wanted to find Carrots, and bring her home so Rei wouldn’t be sad and you wouldn’t feel guilty and the two of you could save the trouble of having to buy a new horse, train him, yadda yadda yadda. Instead you stupidly and ill-fatedly stumbled upon the home of an actual witch, walked right in, and told her things you probably shouldn’t have. You didn’t like the way she’d looked at you when you mentioned knowing Han Jisung.

The Mark of the Rose, the witch had slurred, eyes wide with a sinister grin. A blessing, and a curse.

Then she’d spouted some sort of riddle:

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

...She hadn’t told you what the heck any of that was supposed to mean. For one, how could plaguing you with a mark from some wicked sorcery be a blessing?! And, what’s more...how was it a curse…? ...Her strange chanting hadn’t made any sense, though that last part had sounded nice...maybe that was the blessing?

Something made a skittering, scuffling sound. Turning to your left, something small and fuzzy caught your eye, climbing up a chair leg and coming to rest on the cushion above. It was...holding a crumb of cheese. Sitting there like a person, flat on his bum.

It was some kind of rodent.

You bristled all over, hair standing on end. “A RAT!!!” You shrieked, leaping from bed to dresser. Thankfully it had been bare atop the surface, minus the unlit candle and some kind of ornate mirror, which was an unfortunate accident. Seven years of bad luck was just what you needed, on top of everything.

The moment you let out a cry of alarm, the mouse similarly screamed-- possibly louder than you-- spasming out of the chair and running in circles with sweat flying from its brow until it ran into another chair leg and clocked out, rolling into the path of sunlight.

You’d been about to grab that discarded candle as a weapon until the room became incredibly bright. Clouds parted from outside, sunlight magnifying to flood the whole room. 

And then, when the sunlight narrowed to pierce the unconscious vermin straight through its heart, he became a boy. 

Hair the color of sunset and cheeks flushed rosy pink, full of freckles scrunched his nose, squinted, and wearily stared back at you, upside down. Prayerfully, by some miracle, he was still wearing clothes.

That didn’t change the fact that you had no idea what to make of this sudden development. You stood there, hunched frozen atop the dresser, candle half off the floor and jaw nearly there.

“Hn-- nnnngh…” he groaned, sitting up with a hand to his head, much like you had leaving the Witch’s Biome-- that’s what Han had called it, right? “...Ouch...that’s the last time I go exploring on my own…” He glanced at you over his shoulder, giving a kind, tired smile. “Thanks for turning me back! I’m sorry I scared you, Y/n.”

Your candlestick went flying across the room. 

“OW!!!”

“WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DO YOU KNOW MY NAME?!” you yelled. An accusatory finger followed. “This isn’t funny, and I’ve been through enough now! I’m sick of playing games, give me an answer right now or I’m throwing this broken mirror next!”

The door burst open. “What’s going on in--?! …”

Han Jisung was staring at Mouseboy curiously at first, widen eyes unblinking, you on the dresser second, a careful blink there...but the moment his eyes landed on the cracked mirror, he fell to his knees, hands in his hair.

“OH SH*T!” He shrieked, panicstricken all over. His voice was more pitched than (should be) possible. “What the hell did you do?! Who did this?!?”

Innocently, Mouseboy pointed to you, as if he had any right to be part of the blame game. “It was an accident, though,” he vouched (like that was supposed to make it better!). “I did the same thing when I woke up and saw myself an hour ago; you should have seen it, I broke five of those things! Talk about unlucky!”

He laughed. Han screeched, looking like The Scream. “YOU DID WHAT?!?!”

There was going to be a river running through the room by the time he finished sweating, pacing all over the place while nearly showering the floor and furniture with strands of blue hair. Mouseboy scratched his speckled-cheek, shifting to rest on the calves of his brown-clad work pants (He’d obviously been some kind of farm or errand boy before all this). “S-Sorry about that...it was an accident, really…” He bowed his head. “I-I can maybe get my boss to cover any property damage, but man, I’ll be working forever to pay it off…”

He sighed. You almost (almost) felt bad for him. But it was gonna take a lot more than just looking cute and pitiful to sway your emotions.

When at last he’d finished his...episode...Han stood from where he’d kneeled in prayer on the pinewood floor, swiping a hand over his face, shaking it off, and placing determined hands on his hips. “Okay,” he declared. “It’s alright. I’ll just have to convince Jeongin to pull an all-nighter and fix everything. Good thing he knows a thing or two about craftsmanship!”

Jeongin? …

You faltered, repeating the name curiously as you hopped off the dresser, now that the vermin crisis was over. Thankfully, your absent-mindedness didn’t cost you any cuts or bruises, seeing as there very well could have been shards of broken glass on the floor…

Han smiled your way, nodding. “Yeah, that’s right. We have a lot of introductions to get out of the way, so if you’re ready...well, you might want to get dressed first.”

Even more curiously, you looked down to examine yourself.

An eggshell, lace nightgown greeted your eyes.

… … … 

Who changed you...?!?!

| Six ❧

“Right, so,” said Han, pointing to each stranger in a misfit-lineup. “This is Seungmin, Jeongin, and...Felix, right? ...Yeah, okay, Felix.” He smiled, gesturing to you next. “Family, this is Y/n.”

Everyone either waved or bid you their own form of greeting, some shy, others more open. Now dressed in a sea-green gown with white-lace trim and possibly the most gaudy over exaggerated bow in the back (smaller, matching ones on your shoes and hair), you did your best to curtsey, though it was awkward and embellished to say the least, and really you’d just used it as an excuse to hike up your quarter-calf socks that refused to stay put. “Yeah, alright...nice to--”

“And this...is Hyunjin.”

The air got a little colder all of a sudden; both metaphorically and otherwise. You glanced up from rebuckling the annoying Mary Jane’s on your feet. Froze.

A tall, slender man stepped forward from where he’d been leaning against the wall beneath the cloak of shadow in the hallway. Now, stepping forward in the light of a grand, deserted chapel, his dark hair combed back by rough fingers pressed for time, he was…he was… 

He was staring at you as if you’d hung the moon in the sky. His eyes were so round and...big. Practically moons themselves.

“......” Han cleared his throat, voicing everyone else’s discomfort. “Yes, well...okay, then. This is great! See?!” He motioned to you as if you were some kind of showcase prize. “I brought her back, just like you asked! Now there’s no need to do anything rash or bloodthirsty! Hahah…hah…! …”

Everyone was strangely silent. Looking at each face in turn, though many were staring at you, none could look you in the eye; and no one dared to so much as peek in this Hyunjin fellow’s direction. In fact, the red-headed boy, Jeongin, seemed...almost...rather afraid.

“Hang on,” you interjected (though there was nothing but silence for sometime now). The gears in your mind cranked back to the letter folded messily on the nightstand: Lives are at stake. I need you to meet someone. “So you’re saying you brought me here because...your friend wanted me here?” You huffed. “I don’t understand. You said that lives were at stake. Who’s dying?” 

Quiet. A somber aura fell over the small gathering; maybe that had been a little brash of you to ask outright…

But you needed answers! Why were you here? What was going on? “...Han,” you said, and instantly the boy looked up at you. “Why did you bring me here? What’s going on? …” You scanned the other four faces of boys around you. “What did you mean when you said...I was…” You shook your head. Doubts were flooding in like a dam had just snapped. “This better not be a set up.”

...More quiet. Han cleared his throat once more, stepping back in line. He had no answers to give; his features only hardened. The other three boys in line were looking anywhere else-- the floor, the walls, the ceiling. Oh, look at that beautiful glass window up there. And look at that one!

Hyunjin just kept on staring at you as if staring right through you; like he couldn’t comprehend your existence. He was completely locked in a trance.

After you’d carefully righted yourself, and had just begun turning away to get the heck out of Dodge, it was Seungmin that spoke next. “You’ll have to forgive him,” he called, scratching his head. You turned around. “It’s been a while since any of us have seen another human being before, nonetheless one that isn’t cursed--”

Han flinched, just out of the corner of your eye. Twitch. “...Oh, you mean…”

Your eyes locked with Hyunjin’s, still stuck in outer space. Seungmin nodded. “Yeah...and as for him--” He flicked his eyes on Han. “He’s just stupid.”

“Hey!” The man protested. Seungmin simply rolled his eyes. 

“Well it’s true! I bet you failed to explain anything that’s going on to this poor girl. Just look at what you made her wear!” He gestured rather violently to your ridiculously (somewhat childish) outfit. “She looks like she stepped out of a dollhouse. The cheap, tacky kind they used to sell down the street at Aunt Marie’s.”

“Um, actually…” You scowled. “I dressed myself. There wasn’t much to go off of in the closet other than old-era gowns and...well, that was basically it. Speaking of which, though…”

You stomped forward. Everyone (minus Trancy) jumped. 

“Which one of you changed me before?! I don’t recall wearing or even owning some fancy nightgown before getting the lights shot out of me.”

Seungmin’s jaw slacked. “You drugged her too?!”

“Only because she was trying to escape!” Han griped. “I didn’t want to have to shoot her! Besides, it wasn’t like I used anything heavy…”

“Still,” Red-headed Jeongin said, siding with his buddy. “What would Hyunjin say if he weren’t lost in his thoughts again? And did you even consider Y/n?”

Han scoffed. “I brought her back, didn’t I? I’m pretty sure that’s all that matters.”

“Regardless,” Seungmin spoke, “You still basically brought her here against her will. That’s kidnapping. I’m pretty sure the curse isn’t going to--”

“Hello?!” you yelled, waving your arms. “I asked you all which one of you changed--! …”

Your eyes landed on Felix. The boy blinked, innocently processing, then bloomed another shade of rosy pink. “O-Oh, no…!” He waved his hands. “It wasn’t me, honest! I’ve been stuck as a mouse since last Tuesday! A-Also, you were already...I-I mean, I suppose if it wasn’t you, someone else had already…”

His voice trailed off; too modest, and he had a solid alibi. It couldn’t be him. In the background, Han and Seungmin were still arguing, with Jeongin occasionally chiming in to support Seungmin’s case.

“Let me guess,” Seungmin mused, arms crossed. “You probably stole them from Lady Verena down the road.”

Han made an urk! sound. Seungmin sighed.

“I knew it...no wonder she’s dressed so gaudy…” He and Jeongin turned to you with kind eyes. “Listen, Y/n. We’re really sorry about all this. If you need anything, from now on come to me or Jeongin. We’ll be sure to take care of you. Heck,” he grumbled, “even the new guy Felix could have done a better job…”

Felix smiled awkwardly. You and Han both fumed; for different reasons. “That’s not what I--!”

A low growl cut through the lowly-chaotic atmosphere. Everyone ceased their bickering.

The assumed head of the palace had awoken.

- ❧ -

He walked circles around you. Circles and circles and circles… 

You were starting to get more than a little dizzy.

“Fascinating…” Hyunjin mused. It was as if he were the only one in the room, and you were merely a lifeless figurine on display. While he spun himself into further insanity and far too strong curiosity, Seungmin and Jeongin both sent you sympathetic looks to “hang in there” and “just go with it.”

But you didn’t want to go with it. You wanted to go out-- away-- back home to the caravan, to the wagon that had Rei and Carrots and all your useless junk people gave life to, and you a profit. “I’m sorry,” your voice cut the mostly vacant air, save for the headmaster’s mumbling and strangely heavy breathing. “Am I missing something here? If you like or...don’t like my outfit, just tell me and I can either say “thank you” or change and we can all move on to more important topics, like, say...why I’m here? What’s going on?!”

Hyunjin froze a quarter of the way to facing you from the left, his brown eyes strangely wide (though really, everything about this man was strange). In the back, Seungmin and Jeongin once again made faces attuning to the atmosphere; in this case, nervous frowning.

They were all treating Hyunjin like some sort of ticking time bomb. Han obviously feared and weirdly resented him, it was plain and simple on his face, and even Felix was picking up something about this guy that you couldn’t sense. When he wasn’t distracted by colorful art or the dirt under his nails, he was sending highly strung vibes his way.

...In all honesty, you weren’t sure why you didn’t just walk out. Nothing was stopping you...really. There was a clear path from here to the great big hallway Han had escorted you down, Felix in tow, and from there a million other doors, all leading to someplace that had to be better than here. One of them-- at least five, or ten-- had to lead to some winding hallway that would take you to the great outdoors.

Just when you’d thought to inquire further on that, Hyunjin finally began speaking, and not mumbling. “You appear to be real…but…”

He closed the (little) distance he’d given you in a single stride, and without warning placed both his hands on your shoulders...very...tentatively. Then, he trailed his fingers up to your cheeks.

You latched onto his wrists, on instinct. A synchronized gasping chorus filled the room like a daytime tragedy soundtrack.

But Hyunjin did nothing, if not for widening his eyes yet again to stare into the depth of your face like he was amazed at your reaction. Like it wasn’t normal or something.

“Hyunjin,” spoke Seungmin, “perhaps it would do you well to give the girl-- Miss Y/n-- her space. She is a human, just like the...er...ahem.”

...That was a sour note.

“Actually…”

All eyes were on Han except yours. Even Hyunjin snapped out of his trance to glare skeptically with concern, with Seungmin having to carefully pull him away so you could stop smelling his pungent breath.

“...Ahaha...ahahahahaha…” ...Han wilted. “I sorta...maybe...well, okay, I didn’t do it, but--”

“What did you do?” Hyunjin spoke. All eyes flew to him, then back at Han in anticipation. Like some sort of thriller novel. The daytime tragedy continued. Maybe you were in a tragic play of some sort, and there was a hidden audience just waiting to jump out and announce that you’d officially been pranked.

“………” He took a breath. “TheWitchcursedhertoo…!”

And then he covered his mouth, wincing moments too soon. 

The decaying chapel gasped. Hyunjin’s face turned hard, then slowly, bewitchingly, menacing.

“She did what?!”

Jeongin’s eyes went wide. “Y-You’ve been cursed too?” he asked, mournfully, almost with pity. Everyone appeared to display a sadness teetering on the edge between fear and hopelessness.

It was insane how quickly the airspace had shifted; though nothing normal had happened yet, everything had at least been more or less steady. Now, it was as if the room had been thrown off its hinges at the mention of the woman...the Witch. Which you were hoping had been a dream, but seeing as Felix was here, and Han bringing it up...definitely not.

Han whimpered; actually whimpered, like a child being scolded for breaking a vase. “I-It was an accident, honest!” He begged. “She didn’t know she was headed into the Witch’s Biome, and I lost track of her! BY ACCIDENT! When I found her, I swear I did everything I could to protect her, honest! Th-That’s where I met Felix, though I didn’t know he was really human at the time...and I brought them both back here.”

Seungmin made a curious face of urgency, almost seeming to sweat as he crossed diagonally forward to move you back, even going so far as to stand in front of you as a shield while Jeongin took care of Felix, tugging the mouse-turned-boy’s twine-sewn sleeve to take shelter behind some discarded pews.

What happened next wasn’t a dream, but surely a thing of nightmares. Right in league with the Witch’s hideout.

There was a swirling mass of black and deep red as something foreign and sinister took hold of the feared so-called Master of the House. Hyunjin began to grow bigger. Sharp, pointed fangs protruded from tight chapped lips pulled back in a snarl. His eyes told of hunger, bloodshot. Pitched daggers made of shadow and bone formed and crystalized along his fingertips.

You lost your voice. You could barely breathe. You weren’t even sure how you were able to stand.

“Hyunjin,” Seungmin warned, a sternness to his voice. “Think about what you’re doing. Y/n is here.”

Hyunjin growled, no longer a man anymore but some sort of...foul, hideous beast. He bore murderous eyes at Han. “I don’t care,” he growled, “I’m going to—!”

“You’re scaring her.”

… … …

That seemed to get his attention. Though the same couldn’t be said about yours; for though you stood still, frozen in time and space, your wandering mind was making a break for recalling the nearest exit. An empty, dizzying numbness choked your thoughts.

Hyunjin...if he could even be called that anymore...glared at you with wide, mournful eyes. Eyes full of fear and insecurity. Doubt. A horrible realization.

In the blink of an eye-- for you literally just had to blink-- he was back to normal. He stood apprehensively still, the rage and miasma gone, staring a hole into your Mary Janes. Perhaps staring at the reflection back at him.

Though he stood impossibly still, his voice gave him away in slight, wavering cracks. “...Forget what you just saw. It was merely an illusion. A trick of the light.”

“Uuuuh,” Felix interrupted. “P-Pretty sure that wasn’t-- mmph!”

Jeongin gave him a silencing, terrified eye. “Shhh!”

“......” With a passive grunt, Hyunjin continued. This time his eyes were directly on you; a wave of nervous energy pooled over your skin. “Dinner is at six p.m. sharp.” he said. “You will be there. ...We will have an encore of introductions, no...an entire reestablishment.” He turned his head viciously over his shoulder. The boy his eyes landed on squeaked. 

“Han,” he uttered. The said boy bit his lip. 

“Y-Yes…?”

Hyunjin deadpanned, in the most unamused, lifeless way. “Come.”

“Ahahahah, a-actually-- whAAA!”

A vase at the far end of the room shattered. Literally exploded, a few shards lodging themselves into innocently bystanding portraits and landscapes. When your attention strayed back, you could see Hyunjin had thrown something.

Han quickly bowed, visibly starting to sweat all over again. After a tense moment he stood, saying in the softest voice, barely a whisper, his agreement. 

Then, wringing the rings on his fingers, he nervously followed him out.

| Seven ❧

Dinner was set to be at six p.m. Attendance was apparently a requirement, given the formal invite Felix slipped beneath your door, turned back to a mouse once more (something about moonlight turning him into a...weremouse? ...The rules of his curse were rather complicated).

However, that didn’t mean that you had to be there.

“...And so that’s how I became a real boy again!” The mouse cheered, setting off a small party steamer Jeongin had granted him to lift his spirits. His tiny rodent eyes crinkled in delight as he beamed up at you from the dining table of your guest room, where the two of you were currently seated. You twitched your nose in timing with his, having stared at him and his life-story-since-last-Tuesday for far too long.

You shifted your weight to the other cheek. “So, really, all you had to do was make contact with sunlight. But you were too scared and kept to the shadows all this time.”

“Precisely! At least, I think that’s how it works!” He plopped down, digging some...cheese crumbs out of his coat. “That, and the old hasbeen wouldn’t let me leave every time I tried. Do you know when the last time I saw the sun was?! Go on, guess!”

“...Last Tuesday?”

He looked at you with wide-eyes, paws shoved up his piehole. He took a few minutes to chew and swallow. “...Oh, you’re good. No wonder you’re the chosen one to break everyone’s curse!”

You huffed, snorted really, leaning back to cross your arms in thought. A movie reel spun its way around your brain, projecting the late afternoon’s events on a white screen:

…Hyunjin’s retreating figure left some sort of impression in your mind, and Han seemed to vanish like ink washed off of a page. The moment they’d both gone, your knees buckled beneath you, hands hitting the cold pavement. Seungmin was down to your level in an instant, with Jeongin and Felix scurrying around pews, bits of rubble and broken glass.

“Y/n, are you alright? …” Seungmin asked, reaching out to you. He paused briefly to think. “...I’m going to check your pulse,” he announced.

As his fingers found their way around your wrist, Jeongin flanked to your other side with a first aid kit he’d salvaged from who-knew-where. Felix kept his distance, wringing his cap the way Han had wrung the rings on his fingers, but one look at his face told you he was just as concerned for your health as the others…he simply didn’t know what to do.

“Here, put this on her!”

“I’m alright,” you mumbled, pushing away an ice pack with sloth. Jeongin gave you a distasteful glare of sorts. 

“But you nearly fainted--!”

“I’m fine...really.”

“......”

Everyone laid off after that. 

Which you took as your cue to exit. In your retreating haste, albeit, you failed to see the sorrowful eyes that followed your fleeting back; but you could feel them, and it wouldn’t be long until they found a voice to stand upon.

“Come on, Felix,” you said. “I’ll see what I can do to get you home. I don’t know where you originally came from, but if it’s anywhere near Westwind, my friend and I can give you a lift.” ...It was the least you could do, after all. Felix hadn’t done anything wrong; he wasn’t the one that kidnapped you, or put a “curse” on you, which you weren’t even sure was real, by the way. Sure, some crazy stuff happened, but you didn’t feel any different. What if Han and the Witch and that Hyunjin guy were really all in kahoots, and this was just some kind of crazy...outrageous propaganda stunt?

Jeongin continued to stare, now in an incredulous manner. “Y/n…”

“Let her go,” Seungmin insisted, lowering Jeongin’s hand. The boy grasped the air weakly, the pulsing of his fingers mocking his faintly beating heart, breaths shallow and longing, feebly succumbing to trembles. It would have been painful to watch, had you known him better.

Felix, keeping a low profile as best he could in such tense situation, removed the beret he’d just finished placing back on his head, squeezing it before him. “...A-Alright,” he agreed after a moment. He paced over gradually at first, then broke into a nervous, jagged jog as he scuttled to your side. “Thanks…”

You smiled to hide the fear and insanity of what you’d just witnessed before. A man turning into a beast— a boy becoming like a shadow— everything that had happened up until now; it was just a dream, Y/n. A bad propaganda stunt. “Don’t mention it.” You turned over your shoulder. “...It was nice meeting you.”

Seungmin smiled, bitterly so, as Jeongin closed in on himself. “Same to you. Please, take care. I apologize for any trouble we caused you.”

With a nod, your footsteps echoed into the once-lavish corridor, Felix trailing nervously behind you. But then…

Those sorrowful eyes found their voice. “Wait, Y/n! Please, don’t go yet!” Someone was running after you. “Please stay, just for dinner at least! Please!!!”

...Your footsteps faded. Waiting.

“Please, Y/n…” Jeongin paused some ten feet away, falling to his knees to beg. “Cursed or not, only you can break the spell. I know how this must look to an outsider like yourself, but what Han said to you before in his letter...I’m sorry but I pried before he left it. He’s right. You’re one of us now. But you’re also you. And only you can save him. We…” His voice trailed off, eyes following, focusing on something in his hands...a locket of some sort? “...We gave up on ourselves a long time ago. But as weird and annoying and frustrating as he is, we made a promise to never, ever give up on Hyunjin. Like it or not he’s our boss, and our dearest friend. He’s been good to us for so many years...after all he’s done, we at least need to save him!” His eyes searched for yours, gripping his hands tightly, pleading, crying out with anguish and hope. “It might be too late, but we have to try! We can’t do anything like this...only you can save him. Please, Y/n…”

You’d been paying attention this whole time, but it was just now that you were starting to see: something dark and lively wrapping its way around Jeongin’s neck, then his right cheek. It was like a tattoo, only...alive. And moving. Black vines with thorns and heart-shaped leaves mapped their way across half the boy’s face, finally tangling into his bright, unnaturally red hair that sploched into ebony black, the color of Rei’s hair, only darker maybe, and then…

He began to fade. “...Please help him. He’s not as bad as he seems, honest! Please say you’ll stay and save him!”

...After that, Seungmin ran over and gave Jeongin some kind of shot that turned him back to normal and stopped him from disappearing, but…

What were you supposed to do when he started crying like that?! You weren’t expecting the waterworks…

Because you were both nice people, you and Felix hurried back to help, too, though all the two of you could really do was run circles around each other and agree to stay for just a bit longer. Just until dinner, you’d repeated. So we have the strength to travel.

...You would go to dinner. Really, the plan had been to just send Felix down. That wouldn’t do, though, now that you thought about it... Well, then, you certainly weren’t staying; you’d simply pop in to make sure that Jeongin kid was still alive, grab a roll or two, and then you’d be off to the nearest motel or campsite, because you certainly weren’t spending a night here. Come morning, you and hopefully Felix could hurry back to Westwind and after you took the boy home, or someplace close, you could get back to a normal life traveling and selling wares and running away from fate and customs.

“I’m pretty sure it’s just Hyunjin I’m supposed to fix,” you mumbled, getting back to the small conversation. You never thought in a hundred years you’d be sitting down in some old castle out in the middle of nowhere, talking to a rat (that was really a person, but still). Your eyes scanned the window beside you, out into the foggy gray beyond where nothing but trees and old abandoned buildings greeted you, lifeless along the horizon.

Mouse Felix was still stuffing his face with crumbs of cheddar and swiss. He seemed to have found some bread crust to pair with the former ensemble. “I mean, I guess. I think I heard that one guy, Seungmin, mention something about it being for everyone though? Or I could have just been hearing things…” He swallowed, stacking another small tower. “Wow, I’ve never had such an appetite until last Tuesday…”

“......” You rolled your eyes, counterproductive to your set jaw. How the heck were you supposed to save anyone? Why you, of all people?

That annoying chant the Witch had said replayed in your mind...maybe, if you could decipher it, you’d have some answers...how did it go, exactly…?

When sunrise comes and all is lost, Look upon the oldtown cross There you’ll find just what you seek This aging woman’s prophecy

Sunrise. So when the sunrise came...but, lost? What was lost?

A cross? You surveyed the area, but you didn’t see anything like that.

What you seek...was this you, or was you someone else? What was it you, or they, were looking for? You just wanted to go home…

...All you got from the last part was that this witch was crazy. Then, the rest went something like… But if yet still you manage to bend And find and seek what storm’s may rend May fortunes smile and bring you light For the many remaining days of your life

Okay, seriously, what were you bending?! This had to be metaphorical. So bend...what, your will? Heart? Find a loophole somewhere?

Were you finding what was lost? Would you find it if you found a loophole? Or had a change of heart?

Fortunes would smile upon you...something good would come.

For the rest of your days…

…You smacked your head against the table, startling poor Felix. Who were you kidding?! You’d already decided, that old hermit in the woods was crazy. Trying to translate some old ramblings was a waste of time…!

...And effective in giving you a headache. You groaned, massaging your temples as Felix detangled himself from your locks to scamper a safe distance away. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“...Yeah. Fine.”

“...You don’t sound fine. You sound like Chan when he’s had a long night working on a new project and drank more coffee than he got work done. And I don’t think he even likes coffee.”

You turned your head. “Who’s that?”

Felix smiled. The only mouse that knew how to. “My boss, sort of. We both work for an entertainment company, at least...I did, before this happened.” He regarded himself sadly. “Ever since last Tuesday--”

You groaned again. “Urgh, I know, I get it already! Last Tuesday may as well be your catchphrase at this point.”

“...Sorry.”

“......” You peeked back at him, flicking a crumb of cheese his way. It seemed to take away all his problems like a one-way train. You sat up, grinning just a little at how cute he looked, nimbling innocently. The only rodent you’d ever find to be cute. “...Tell me more about it. About Chan, was it? And this entertainment company of yours. I honestly thought you were a farmer.”

“A farmer?” He thought. “Oh...yeah, my clothes! I grew up on a farm, and our company is relatively small. I just threw those on when I went exploring the woods.”

“And what were you doing exploring the forest on your own?”

“Uh...well,” he blushed. “I’ll tell you about Chan and the company first.”

His small, yet surprisingly bass voice carried on into the dimly-lit atmosphere. Maybe you just needed to take your mind off things. You were getting too wound up in something you weren’t even committed to being a part of. Once you saw Jeongin was okay, you’d be forgetting all about this place. So for now, you just needed to relax.

And who knew mice told such fabulous, intricate stories?

| Eight ❧

“Hyunjin, please…!”

Crash!

Another mirror. Terrific.

After their departure from the old art gala, Hyunjin had led the two to one of the many old studies that lied grungy and muted like the rest of the palace. In the circular room resided one dusty old curtain over a weathering window, a few bookshelves chalked with books likely to never be read again, a small table with various junk, a chair, another chair, a small loveseat, a slightly larger small grandfather clock...and a calendar with much angry scribbling, stains, and tears.

“Hyunjin, Jeongin can only fix so many mirrors at once...you know how this all works…you break a mirror, something in the castle vanishes. Then I take the heat for it!” 

The beast growled. “You don’t think I know that? Are you talking back to me right now?”

Han flinched. If he were human, surely he would have died from a thousand ulcers and the tight sensations of horrid anxiety by now… “N-Not by any means...Hyunjin,” With gritted teeth, he bowed his head. “Please, listen to me for a second. Let me explain.”

“Oh, that you will,” the beast grumbled. He gracefully spun himself into a red velvet chair, lifting another looking glass from the small table beside it in order to glare at himself broodingly. It made the small hairs of Han’s neck stand yielding, doing a little dance of anxiety. 

“V-Very well,” He said, standing back up straight. He gave an awkward glance at the broken mirror shards before deciding he’d better start talking his way out of another beating, and clean up later. “Our journey begins in the outskirts of Westwind city--”

Hyunjin raised his right arm, the mirror held precariously in the balance. “Too far.”

“NO DON’T!”

...Phew.

Removing the handheld treasure from the prince’s hand, his shadow took a few steps back, peering into it. Watching the door and bookshelf behind him, as shadows had no reflection. “...I traveled around...out yonder, just as you asked. Just like I said I would. I let the wind and my intuition, my hope, guide me, and within less than a day’s travel I came upon Westwind city. That’s where I found her, just outside the gates...she was accompanied by another, a young woman of close age. They looked too different to be related, so I assume it was a friend, or maybe a distant...distant relative. Anyway--”

Hyunjin sighed.

“...Anyway, I--”

“How did you know she was the one? And so close? So close to our village...it seems too good to be true. And I thought you said she was lying dormant somewhere.”

Han blinked, eyes flitting forward. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. It took all his willpower not to flinch or show anymore signs of weakness. “W-Well, yes, she was, but uh...she escaped?”

“Oh really?”

“Yes. And so, I put her to the test.” 

Hyunjin narrowed his eyes. “You put her to the test? What does that mean?”

“I quizzed her. I knocked on the door of her heart...and she ignored me quite a few times, but eventually, I got in. In exchange for a favor.”

“What favor?”

Han smiled with pride. “I’d saved her friend’s life. Or...distant, distant relative. After that, I asked her carefully, very seriously, of her thoughts.”

“...About…?”

“The curse.”

“You told her outright about the curse?!”

Seeing as Hyunjin was near fuming, Han turned on the sprinklers, fanning his arms about. “No, no! Not outright! I was very tricky! I used lots of metaphors and figuratively-speakings! She had no idea to the core of the matter, really!” ...And anyway, did it even matter anymore? Y/n was well aware by now she wasn’t exactly in Kansas anymore...

“......” Hyunjin relaxed back in his chair. “So, what did she say?”

Han searched the dusty floorboards for a minute, before slowly twisting the mirror 180 degrees. “Well, sir, it was what I said first. I asked her…”

- ❧ -

“A man, or a beast? As individuals, do we have a choice?”

“...I’m sorry...I don’t understand the question.”

“Hmm…” Han thought. “...Imagine you were put under a...spell. A spell that turned you into a hideous monster, with fangs and claws and fur in places you’d never imagined...but it comes and goes, this curse of yours.” He tilted his head. “Are you still human? Or are you now a beast? Well?”

“...I...I don’t know,” you confessed, listing your gaze aside. “I really have no idea where you got such a crazy idea from.”

“Okay...then let me ask you this. I’ll help you out.”

He leaned forward this time. “Do you think we have a choice? Is it possible to define ourselves as one or the other?”

“Well...yes, I would think so.” Your eyes met his. “We all have a choice— to be monsters, or men. It is not a matter of blood, or a spell, but a condition of the heart.”

- ❧ -

Hyunjin leaned forward in his chair, eyes wide as saucers.

This time, he knew it, too. But he didn’t care how he must have looked. That fear died a long time ago, having stared at the many faces of Hwang Hyunjin over the years.

He simply couldn’t believe it. It really was true, then. It had to be her. The girl that would solve all his problems…!

...For the record, one should never put all their faith into one person in regards of “solving problems” or “fixing them,” but this was different. In this case, this girl really was the answer to lifting the curse plaguing his home and body for so many moons, so many long, hard-watched seasons…

And she was going to be having dinner with him. Not only that, but he only had a handful of hours left until it was all over, and everything set into stone.

The door behind Han slammed open, Seungmin entering the stage and stealing his spotlight like he normally did. Even before the curse, the boy who’d been his father’s auditor-in-training was always bursting in to bask in the limelight with his savvy knowledge, goody-two-shoes this and boring document question that.

He swears this was never the case, but Hyunjin knew better. “Do you mind? I’m having a discussion with--”

“Not now.”

“Excuse me?” Seungmin was rummaging around the room, spreading knick-knacks around, tossing books off shelves after quickly examining covers or flipping through a few pages, even going so far as to demand that Hyunjin stand so he could upturn all the seat cushions. “What are you doing?”

The boy genius frowned. “Jeongin had an episode after Y/n almost left. He—”

Hyunjin found himself shaking the boy in the next second. “Did he stop her?!”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking if he’s alright first?”

Hyunjin just continued to stare. Seungmin rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I was going to say, he managed to stop her. I did say almost left. By the way, Jeongin’s in peril right now, so if you could be so kind as to release me, I’d like to get back to ensuring his safety as soon as possible.”

As soon as Hyun dropped him, the boy got right back to work; tearing the room apart. Han pursed his lips.

“He had an episode? Did you give him a shot?”

The boy sighed. “Yes, but I’ve told you both before they’re only temporary. I’m looking for lavender oil, and the vine clippers. I don’t remember the original recipe to stop the ebb and flow, but I think I can make a close replacement from what I’ve read in the past.” He glanced over his shoulder a moment. “What were you getting so hot under the collar about, anyway? Is this about Y/n? Being cursed?”

Shoot, by the day, that was right. He was still angry about that. What if Han had blown it? What if this Y/n was defective now because she’d been touched by the Witch’s mad hand?

Oh, he was so going to get it if…!

“Eeek!” Han shrieked, already knowing what was to come. “Dammit, don’t remind him of that! I had just managed to get on his good side!”

Seungmin rolled his eyes again. “You’re never on his good side. All you two do is bicker and fight and run from or after each other until you’ve become one with the walls and he passes out from anger or resentment or both. ...Ah!” He smiled. “Found the clippers. Now for that oil…”

“Forget the oil!” Hyunjin roared. “We don’t have time for this! Ahh…!” He gritted both hands in his hair, looking out the window, up at the old miniature grandfather clock. “Time’s running out. Since she’s the one, we may still have a chance. Cursed or not we only have three days...two days…!”

It was at this point that Seungmin made a quizzical expression, pausing in his endeavors to pace rather calmly over to the calendar, checking the date. “...The anniversary of your curseday isn’t until next month. You have a whole season, almost.”

A...season?

“Let me see that,” Hyunjin demanded, shoving the kid aside. He peered anxiously at the line up, the rows of weeks in the calendar month that said… … …

Seungmin was right. He’d misread the date, in all his anxious spite.

He had until the next season. Until the first snowfall. Starting tomorrow, his clock would begin.

...Oh, who was he kidding?! His clock started tonight; with dinner.

In a tizzy, his whole attitude changed. No longer was he a grumpy, repulsive, bitter soul trapped in a cursed body. Mindlessly resenting his father, his past actions, the old beggar who’d shown up on his doorstep. He was a nervous young man about to have his first date in what felt like forever, because truthfully, it had been. “What am I going to wear?! ...Oh my gosh, she saw me transform…!” Horror filled his lungs with a ragged breath, hands flying to sunken cheeks. “I can’t let her see me now! But I have to! I have to break the curse...I mean, she has to break the curse! But what if--!”

“Hyunjin!” Han clamped his mouth shut. A bold move for someone that was normally terrified of him. “Calm down! I think that’s step one!” He looked around while Seungmin continued his search. “Step two would be...uh…”

“Finding an appropriate outfit?” Seungmin offered. Han beamed.

“YES, finding an appropriate outfit! Genius!”

Again, the boy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, who would have thought…?”

“C’mon!” The two flew past him, Hyunjin too preoccupied with his previous behavior, overwhelmed by too many truths, to even-- …

He rushed back into the room. “Did you say Jeongin was--?!”

“Let’s go,” Han ordered, yanking the househead by the collar. Leaving Seungmin alone to his bumbling foragery.

My, how times quickly changed.

| Nine ❧

Another spaghetti noodle found its way into Felix’s hair, alongside a half-eaten slice of garlic bread. 

In the great dining hall, chandeliers hung like clouds in a desecrated chamber, all covered in dust and cobwebs. A long, very long table stretched from one end of the wide room to the other, all set with dining ware meant to feed the entire Royal Family and their second cousins. A rainbow of food covered the crimson-draped platform, starting with English scones and biscuits on one end and ending with an Italian pot of gold on the other, complete with pastas, pizza, and a basket of garlic bread nestled to Felix’s right, who was seated at the table’s end. All along the walls sat candles lit with a hazy tint, casting shadows like lingering ghosts, light dancing across the faces of those present.

You slid your hand down one side of your face, safely hidden amongst the confines of two large chambers doors with one slightly askew. Good grief. You were simply waiting on Jeongin to show, to ascertain he was alright; until then, it was Felix’s one job to stall. What on earth was that foolish mouseboy doing shoving food in his hair?!

Seungmin, seated to the absent head’s left, and the only other soul in the room, cleared his throat loudly enough to be heard over the cultural expansion of what was meant to be one supper. “Felix!” he called, “Might I ask why you’re storing food on your persons? You’re...not a mouse at the moment.”

Unfortunately it didn’t reach far enough, as Felix continued to store and gobble down food. “Mm… What’d you say, cuz?”

Seungmin frowned. “I said,” he repeated, raising his voice, “you’re not a mouse anymore!”

Felix blinked, pausing red-handed while sliding a breadstick into his shirt pocket. “...Aren’t I?” He examined himself. “...Oh.” He blushed. “I suppose you did give me one of those fancy needles, didn’t you? I’m not used to being a real boy at this hour.”

Seungmin sunk back into his seat; a sigh.

Oh, but for Pete’s sake, where was Jeongin?! Seungmin could at least mention his current condition, so you could skedaddle your way to the nearest exit with a salad to-go. Better yet, some pasta and a pound of those chicken tenders sounded all the better…

No, no Y/n! Now was not the time to be thinking about food...even if it’d been a while since you last ate...more like a day…

...Ooooooh...pizza and...shrimp cocktail…

A pile of desserts rested center stage. Was that German chocolate you were seeing...?

“So,” Seungmin called. “Will Y/n be joining us this evening?”

Your attention snapped back to reality. Felix shook his head alongside tearing into a drumstick. “‘Fraid not,” he replied.

“Mm…” the other boy nodded. “...May I ask why? Is she feeling alright?”

Felix paused again. Forgetting the pasta and German chocolate, you pressed yourself against the closed door in order to be as close as possible, ear resting just next to the shaded chandelier and candlelight. 

Just like we practiced, Felix. Come on, just like we rehearsed.

“Uuuh,” Felix stammered. “Th-That’s…”

His head listed aside in thought. Ugh! No, what was he doing?! 

Felix chewed much longer than he needed to while racking his mouse-sized brain for an answer. Your fingertips pressed into old polished wood, silently begging the boy to remember what you’d just discussed twenty minutes ago.

Remember...think, dang it!

Suddenly, he swallowed. “Oh!”

Seungmin shook his head, as if waking up from a trance. “Yes?”

Felix grinned, probably with salad or something stuck in his teeth. “Y/n will not be attending this dilatory gathering due to a symptom...of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

Chink...! That was the sound of your hope cracking like a broken mirror. That sounded totally rehearsed! The lie was supposed to be that your curse made you tired and you didn’t want to be disturbed. It was perfect, since you knew one of them would insist on butting in to see for themselves, but surely would respect a young lady’s wishes to be left alone…

Though it was hard to see that far, Seungmin appeared to be grinding gears in his mind to make sense of such a suspiciously wordy sentence when, heaven’s to Betsy, the door at the far side opened, and in came a blue-haired shadow. It was the only way you knew how to describe him; he was simply put, like ink off a rain-washed page… “Wassup?!” He announced, swinging out the right-side chair.

Seungmin deadpanned, appearing to squint just slightly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Ink-boy dropped a handful of rolls onto his plate. “...Like wha— oh!”

He leapt for the door again. Seungmin rolled his eyes (something he seemed to do a lot), dabbing the sides of his mouth before placing the cloth back over his lap. “Yeah. Oh.”

At the far end of the room, Han held both hands raised, as if he were a magician about to reveal a magic trick. “May I present to you, Felix, His Royal Highness, Prince of Everain Palace, Ruler of Finance, Master of Trade, Prosperer of...prospering, President Hwang’s birthright successor of the greatest industry of all time, Hyun— …”

Crickets. 

You couldn’t visibly see it, but you knew it was there: a single drop of sweat that rolled down the side of Han Jisung’s face, as he stood frozen, one hand hovering over the engraved door handle.

“Ha...hahaha…” He did his best to smile. “...Wh-Where’s Y/n?”

Felix bobbed his head, holding up a finger while finishing off a bite of lasagna. “Mm...one second mate…” He dabbed the corners of his mouth like Seungmin had done, taking his time to tuck and fold the elaborate cloth upon his lap. 

Han twitched. Felix surely smiled, taking a painfully slow inhale.

“Y/n will not be attending this dilabitory...dilatory gathering due to a...symptom?...yeah, a symptom of her curse, that makes her quite drowsy at this late hour!”

… …

“She whAT?!?!”

You sighed. While Han had another spastic encounter with the dust-coated floor, Seungmin hollered and tried beating the boy out of it with various hard-mattered foods, the two falling into the same bickering as they had before. Felix continued to happily stuff his face like nothing was bothering him. And you, idly residing in the cold hallway, still had no idea how Jeongin was. Not a word.

Sliding your back down the door, you pursed your lips, lightly smacking two fingers over your wrist; better check yourself before you wreck yourself, just in case.

Fifty-eight...fifty-nine...sixty. Yep, normal.

But the marking on your wrist wasn’t. 

You jumped back, hitting the door and causing the noise outside to dip for a moment before returning to...what was currently normal. You covered your right wrist with the opposite hand. Held your breath. Counted to three.

Removing your fingers, slowly, something sinister stared back at you. Something...elaborate, foreign, but distinguished. Some sort of...strange dome shape, a mark made of...ink, maybe, resembling a chapel window. Or a door, perhaps?  

Upon closer inspection, in the faint light from the other room, it seemed to pulse with...some kind of...energy… … 

...When sunrise comes, and all is lost… Hmm… 

Fwoosh!

You snapped your head back, peering through the sliver of dancing light. The far door ricocheted against its adjacent wall; an ambrosial aroma wafting through the air. The candlelight...illuminated...

...A beastly man with silky black hair.

- ❧ -

You’re pretty sure you heard a noodle slip off the fork wound tightly in Felix’s hand, who nearly dropped it all the same. 

There he was; the man who’d become a monster and nearly murdered Han just hours ago, right before your eyes. The black and red miasma, honed claws, sharp teeth; all of it came flooding back to your mind like a tidal wave. 

The sudden drop in temperature made you long for candle warmth, yet flee farther into the shadows of the empty hall. Seungmin paused with a scone held once proudly and threateningly in the air, now placed delicately on his plate as he nervously slid back into his seat. Han, once choking on a fistful of salad mix, managed to wash it down and did the same, quickly and quietly so after pulling out the beastman’s seat.

Hyunjin sat down with vigor, the legs of his chair scraping harshly to the floor. He made a peculiar face, something like embarrassment albeit just a second, before hiding it behind the fluffing of his napkin and folding it onto his lap. Then he made a fleeting...was that nervous?...glance straight head, to the far opposite end of the table.

The candlelight seemed almost hesitant to cast it’s erratic glow upon the prince’s face. When his eyes met a head of orange hair, he froze, glaring. Hotly. “Where is Y/n?”

“The million dollar question,” Seungmin mumbled. It managed to echo, along with the kick beneath the table and following hiss escaping his lips a moment later. 

Hyunjin snorted, turning his gaze back to Felix. “I said,” he repeated. “Where is Y/n?”

“Yes, I heard you loud and clear, cuz,” Felix replied with an OK sign. “Gimme just a sec...ahem!”

You (silently) banged your head against the solid matter before you. Oh, sweet stars, please no…

“Y/n will not be attending this—”

“She’s not feeling well, Your Grace,” Seungmin interrupted. Phew. “Apparently she’s rather ill as a side effect from whatever curse the Witch gave her. She’s resting in the same guest room upstairs.”

Yes! Now, someone mention Jeongin’s name so you could leave with a clear conscious!

Hyunjin blinked. “Go get her, then.”

… Huh?

Seungmin nearly swallowed wrong, apparently thinking the same thing. “I’m sorry?”

Hyunjin, again, snorted. “I said, go get her. It’s rude to keep everyone waiting, especially royalty.”

Felix, who had long started his meal prior to anyone’s arrival, stopped and hurriedly shoved any evidence under a spare napkin from the empty seat beside him. “Ahaha, yes, right! Waiting…! …” 

He awkwardly wiped his hands clean. Seungmin frowned. “Hyunjin…”He placed his fork down. “She’s sick. Resting. And after today, I don’t blame her for wanting to be left alone right now…” He eyeballed Felix a moment, leaning in with a hushed voice. “Remember, you have more time now...it’s better to be patient. Let her adjust first.” He turned back toward his meal. “I got the hint from Felix’s message, she wants to be left alone. Everyone’s already started eating, anywa—”

“That’s enough!”

The room swiftly grew colder. You shivered, ducking your head even if you technically weren’t present in the dining atmosphere. Oh, greif.

Hyunjin slammed his hands on the table, rocking himself upwards. “If you’re just going to back talk and give me excuses, I’ll get her myself!”

He made his way toward you, crossing the dining room on Han’s side in angry strides towards the vaguely slitted door.

Gasping, you bit your lip hard, frantically searching for a place to hide; but there was nothing. No furniture or randomly placed junk littered the path leading to the great hall. Could you outrun him, maybe? Would it make a sound? How good was his hearing? Did beastmen have the same sensitive hearing capabilities as a wolf, or a fox?

“Pardon me!”

You whirled around, witnessing the brave, possibly last, antics of Felix the Mouse...boy. His whole aura radiated positive, jittering energy, hopping lightly from one foot to the next as he put his old entertainment skills to use, all for your sake.

Hyunjin grunted, having been stopped in his tracks. He glared down heatedly. “What is it? You’re in my way.”

Felix saluted him. “Right on, bro! ...Except, that…”

You held your breath. Put on a good show, Felix. Or, better yet, ask him about Jeongin. That’s all I need to—

“...I need to pee. Mind showing me where the bathroom is?”

… … 

Oh…he just had to...go… 

You deflated like a popped balloon. Of course.

After staring almost incredulously at Felix, like trying to understand his existence, Hyunjin made some sort of irritated noise you assumed all beastmen made, shoved him aside, and continued his striding. 

You made it as far as a few paces from the first available turn before a cold voice stopped you.

“Just where do you think you’re going?”

Urk! … 

...You really should have just looked for Jeongin yourself.

| Ten ❧

“Where’s Jeongin?”

The room had long ago settled into an uncomfortable silence. Bitterly, you shoved a stuffed olive into your mouth, letting the salty tang of the brined fruit coax over your tongue before shivering from the sensation.

You were getting drowsy. But that also could have been from the wine Han insisted on pouring for you, and you being stressed and unsure if an evening around a beastman would be at all possible without the effects of alcohol, accepted.

You were seated across from the beast now, in Felix’s place. The boy being forced to your right...until the effects of whatever had made him a boy again wore off. As of ten minutes ago, he was a rodent yet again, nested happily in the garlic bread basket. You squinted eyes at him over your wine glass.

You totally failed the mission. Be grateful I’m having a hard time staying mad at you. And that you can safely ingest garlic.

“Why do you wish to know?”

Hyunjin’s voice boomed across the grand hall, in no more than a calm rejoinder. How he could speak so lowly and yet fill an entire hall was beyond your drunkenly buzzing comprehension.

“I just want to know,” you simply replied. “Where is he?”

Hyunjin didn’t respond. Instead, Seungmin cleared his throat, excusing himself from the room.

“Wait,” You stood. “Where are you going?”

The boy awkwardly shifted his gaze from you to the door. Hyunjin suddenly stood as well. “Why do you want to know? Why are you asking so many questions?”

“Okay, okay,” Han dabbed at his face, easing the beast back into his seat, and motioning for you to do the same. “Everyone take it easy. Y/n, please excuse Seungmin, he has many responsibilities here. Hyunjin...Your Princeliness,” he corrected, “why don’t you have some more wine? I think we all just need to have a nice long drink and—”

“Be quiet,” Hyunjin ordered, scooting himself in. His shadow didn’t need to be told twice, turning back to his dinner with a small eye roll.

Steadily, with caution, you lowered yourself back into your seat, only able to watch as Seungmin gave a brief bow to you before disappearing behind closed doors. “Please excuse me,” his voice trailed behind him.

Great. He was likely the only one who’d have been bold and honest enough to tell you anything. Now you were stuck with a beast, a shadow, and a mouse that’d fallen asleep in the bread basket.

...Then this happened.

“Ahem,” Hyunjin swallowed a swish of sweet, fermented grape juice. “...T-Tell me about yourself.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I said…” He swallowed again, for no particular reason this time. He kept a staring contest with his steak. “Tell me about yourself. What kind of...stuff do you like?”

“What kind of...stuff?”

A stifled noise came from Han’s lips, as he did his best to hide a smile. He spared you a polite grin before quickly whispering something to Hyunjin, like a lawyer to a client. “...Never mind!” The beastman awkwardly bleated, to which crimson coated his cheeks. He angrily picked at his plate, and the room once again fell into silence.

That was weird. Switching gears, you glanced down to your wrist. The mark from a bit earlier was still there, now lit up beneath the flickering light. Tentatively, you slipped a spare napkin, rubbing at the ink.

It didn’t budge. You tried wetting the cloth with a bit of wine when the others weren’t looking; thankfully, Hyunjin was too...enthralled in his steak, or something, and Han was too busy whispering to him.

The ink didn’t smudge, either. It was as if the markings were a part of your skin.

When sunrise comes, and all is lost… 

“What do you do for fun?”

“Wha?!” Your head shot up, focusing to see all four eyes on you. Han and Hyunjin glaring at you expectantly. You gulped, taking a deep breath to clear your thoughts. You just couldn’t get that old bat’s wacky slogan out of your head… “...What do I do for fun? Is that what you asked?”

Han gave a single nod, encouraging another conversation attempt. You lowered your head, thinking. It couldn’t hurt to participate in mindless chatter. Just until I get the information I want.

“I like...selling things. And making people happy.”

Hyunjin’s eyes grew just a little. “Is...that what you do for a living?”

“Mm-hm.”

Both men were silent. Hyunjin, in particular, looked like he may have been experiencing indigestion of some sort. Then he scowled. “Shouldn’t you be home with your parents? Taking care of them? Doing something more decent?”

You scoffed. What the heck? Where did that come from? “This is how I take care of them. Almost all the proceeds go back to them. What do you mean, more decent?”

Hyunjin had opened his mouth to speak when Han cleared his throat, jumping in on the conversation. “Does your friend work with you? Her name was…”

“Rei.”

“Yes, Rei! You both sell artifacts and collectibles, right?”

“That’s correct.”

Hyunjin blinked. “Oh…” He relaxed, indigestion cleared.

Placing both hands on your lap, you sat up a little straighter. “So where’s Jeongin?”

The beastman’s face resembled one of annoyance and grief. “Why do you keep asking about him?”

“I…” You took another swing of wine, swirling the contents afterward. Watching as your reflection altered. “I’m just curious is all. Is he doing okay?”

Something like...jealousy?...resided among the beast’s brow and set jaw. “He’s fine. Quit asking. I want you to tell me about yourself. Where are you from? How old are you?”

It was at this point that you’d at last had perhaps one too many swigs of sweet relief and numbness, for you placed down your glass after chugging the last bit. One out of...how many refills of this stuff have you had? “Can’t,” you stated, standing. “I got what I came here for. Now I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?”

Hyunjin...the beast, regarded you incredulously. “Yes, leaving…” You giggled. “Leaving. Leeeeeaving… Like leaves blowing in the wind, leaf-ing.” It was a hop, skip, and a jump to the door some ten or whatever paces away. “I know that Jeongin is okay now...er, wait.” You frowned. Turned around. “How do I know you aren’t lying to me?”

A brow was raised. “You think I’m lying? About my Jeongin?” He snorted. “Why do you care so much about him? Do you know him from a past life? Was he your lover? Do you like him now?”

“Hyunjin…” Han muttered, glaring. “Cool it...please.”

“I will not!” He rose to his feet with twice as much vigor as before, chair flying backward. Han eep-ed. “This dinner is supposed to be about you, and me. Why do you keep bringing up my blacksmith? Tell me!”

Because you were already pretty numb (good gravy what was in the wine?), you just laughed at the fact a beast was getting this angry over something so trivial to you. “Why do you care so much? Do beasts always get this angry?” You groaned, like it was all such a bother. “If you really wanna know, he had a nervous breakdown or something and begged me to come to dinner. But he got all weird...like...there were these moving images, and he started vanishing. I could see right through him!” You sighed, making your exit again. “I just wanted to know if he was alright. Turning into air like that can’t be healthy.”

“Absolutely not.”

You chuckled, nearly at the door. “Exactly, that’s what I’m say—”

“NO!”

Boom! Chik!

...You flinched. Gradually, bit by bit, you inched yourself to partially facing the dining hall.

A chunk of the table was missing. A decently-sized, pretty big chunk, torn right off the left corner. Han, on the opposite side but right next to the disaster, was twisted up like one of the noodles that’d been trapped in Felix’s hair, his face ghostly white.

Hyunjin was seething. “You are not going anywhere outside the confinements of these walls. That is an order.”

Han coughed, waving away dust and floating wood chips with minimal effort so as not to draw too much attention. “O-Okay, easy there, Hyunjin…technically…” He smiled. An apologetic one, voice skittishly squeaky. “Technically, you can’t order her to—”

“I’ll do whatever the hell I want!!! This is my manor, my life, my curse!!!”

“That doesn’t give you the right to order me around!” You screamed. “How dare you raise your voice to me! Over something so stupid and absurd!”

His eyes narrowed to slits, head twitching aside. “What did you just say?”

You mirrored his image. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear. Surely, as a beast, your hearing is as good as a dog. Or a bat. Or some kind of vermin.” Pushing open the door, you whipped your head around. “I said, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s eyes went wide...then nearly vanished behind a curtain of vexed, enraged brows. “You wanna go so badly? Fine! Get out of here! Go to your room!!!”

“Who do you think you are, my father?!”

“Obviously, running amuck from your parents has left you with a lack of discipline.”

Your jaw went slack. “What did you just say?!?”

Hyunjin smirked, a sarcastically snobbish and mocking tone to his voice. “You heard me. Don’t pretend like you didn’t.”

“Uh!” You raved. “Whatever! I’m going to look for Jeongin myself, since I can’t trust that you’d tell me anything sincere. Then, I’m out of here.”

“What does that mean?!”

“It means I can’t trust anything you say, because you’re a monster!!! Then, I’m going home!”

You couldn’t quite see it, but there was a hint of pain in Hyunjin’s eyes, mixed with scars and years of regret. But everything quickly flooded back to anger and bigotry before you could count to three. “...Get back here! You’re not allowed to leave the manor! I forbid you to go anywhere except straight to your room! Do you hear me?!”

“No!”

“Yes!!”

“No!!”

“FINE!!!”

“Fine!!!”

…Slam.

| Eleven ❧

The rain coming down that night was the only thing stopping you from leaving. Not that you were afraid of a little rain by any means; no, not in the slightest. Rather, it was that you weren’t going to kill yourself over a stupid argument just to get away from a beast. You couldn’t risk catching pneumonia or a silly cold and leave Rei to handle taking care of you and the fort. Plus, there was the matter of Felix...you’d be responsible for him as well. You already told him you would.

...All of that, and it was raining pretty hard.

So here you sat, out in an old web-infested barn, slack atop a stack of hay a few feet away from the open barn doors, just watching the rain fall. Praying it would let up so you could escape. Praying no one would find you here, out in some shabby old building behind the kitchen. And what a nightmare that had been, by the way.

From your left shoulder, Felix did a nervous little jig, spinning in circles twice before bridging across your back to the other side. “Y/n…I don’t know what happened, cause that cheese and wine got me pretty good, but…” He heaved a small mouse-sigh. “...Do you think you maybe overreacted? You don’t seem like a person who gets worked up so easily.”

You scoffed. Wasn’t that right. “Yeah...you’re right. I’m not.”

“Then what happened?”

“......” It took you a moment to gather your thoughts. What did happen? Why did I get so worked up like that? Sure, there was the alcohol. That definitely had an effect. But it wasn’t everything, because now that it was wearing down, now that your mind was clearing and you’d had some time to settle down, to breathe in solitude, you...knew it was something more. There was truth in the midst of all that anger.

Felix was waiting for an answer. So were you.

“I—”

Chunk! “Y/n!!!”

You took a startled breath, turning toward an old door you could have sworn was sealed shut. “Jeongin…?”

It was Jeongin. The red-haired reason you’d decided to stick things out, albeit a little longer. The boy greeted you with flushed cheeks and a lazy smile; he still didn’t look all that well. “Y-Yeah...I came because I heard...you…”

He hunched over, out of breath. The face of another appeared behind him. “Jeongin! I told you to slow down, you’re in no condition to be running around like…” He stopped, blinking into the darkness. “Y/n? Why are you here?”

Brown hair, matching eyes. Mr. Excuse-Me-From-This-Horrifically-Awkward-Dinner. You just smiled, lazily in response. “Hello, Seungmin.”

The young...caretaker nodded, acknowledging you before being swatted away by his patient. A flash of vacancy lit up the night sky as you turned the opposite away, facing the other two in a triangle. Jeongin hustled to shut the barn doors despite Seungmin’s protests, and pretty soon the three...four of you, with Felix taking a nosedive for the hay, sat in awkward silence.

It was almost an encore of dinner not but twenty or thirty minutes ago, though not as worse. It was obvious the two of them wanted to say something, but neither wanted to be the first to speak. Finally, after twenty-odd seconds of nose scratches, unnecessary shifting, and forced coughs, the only employee with a braincell sat up a little straighter.

“Listen,” Seungmin began, using his hands to speak. “About Hyunjin—”

The beast. No thank you. You swatted your hands before you. “I do not want nor need to have another conversation about that ill-mannered buffoon.”

“...I’m pretty sure this is the first one.”

“Second,” Jeongin inquired. “...Right?”

“I’m not counting the first encounter,” Seungmin...countered. “Those never count.”

Jeongin nodded. “Yeah, I can see why—”

“Enough!” You yelled. “...It doesn’t matter if this is the first or second or even the tenth time. I can tell you one thing, it’s definitely the last.”

Seungmin gave you a pitying look. “We all have to walk on eggshells around him.” His voice sounded pleading, borderline apologetic, and all-over exhausted. “...It gets rough, I know. I understand he’s not the easiest person to get along with. He’s very different and outcast and behind the times. But if you could just hear me out for—”

“Hear us out,” Jeongin corrected. He gave you the cutest, saddest smile a boy of his caliber could possibly manage. It made your heart melt; it didn’t help that he was still ill to boot. “I heard what you did for me, Y/n. I really appreciate your concern. No one has ever stayed, especially when one of us...has an...episode.” 

His gaze grew sad and distant. You could feel your heart sizzling in a pool of pity. “...This has happened...before?” you whispered.

Jeongin nodded, Seungmin averting his eyes. “...Yeah.” He said. “Twice to Jeongin, three times to Han, Hyunjin too many to count...and uh…” He scratched his cheek, holding up an index finger. Eyes peeking shyly under the hood of neatly-groomed bangs. “...Once I may have...had a bad day.”

“Wow…” Felix mumbled, head sticking out of the hay barrel. The boy looked like a stray whack-a-mole project. “That sounds rough. Been there done that.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him down with two fingers. He let out a muffled squeak on the way down. “So…” ...You sighed. “...What is it that you wanted to say, then? This is the last time I’m listening. I only went to that banquet to make sure Jeongin was okay.” Another crack of lighting pierced the sky, followed by the ominous rumbling of thunder. “You have maybe ten minutes, since the storm isn’t letting up anytime soon. But after that, I’d like to be left alone in peace until I can leave this joint. Go.”

Seungmin nearly beamed nonexistent sunshine. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Get to the basics. Just the essentials.”

“The company fell under a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry?”

He huffed, running a hand through his hair while Jeongin glanced nervously at the door. “The company, this place. The first thing you need to know about Hyunjin is that he wasn’t always this way. And I’m not just talking about the curse. He’s the son of a wealthy businessman; this is his estate. He owns the whole town...or at least, he did.” His eyes scanned the walls and dusty interior, as if checking to see if someone else was watching. As if taking in the entirety of the estate. “...Now it belongs to Hyunjin. Everything.”

You crossed your arms. “I could have put that together myself. He’s obviously a rich, spoiled brat.”

“There’s more. The people that know him personally know him for who he really is.”

You huffed. Unbelievable, really. “And what would that be?” You pressed. “A monster?”

A bitter silence flushed the room. You instantly felt a pang of resentment at that remark. Perhaps...again, that was a bit too harsh. 

“...I’m sorry.” Your arms laid in surrender across your lap. “Please continue.”

“......” Seungmin glanced to his left. “You wanna pick up from here?”

He leaned back, Jeongin lifting himself to take the lead. “...Hyunjin is a pain in the ass. He’s a pain in the morning, we basically play rock paper scissors to see who has the unfortunate task of waking him up and handling his breakfast, and to decide who’s turn it is to do laundry and lunch we place bets on when he’ll randomly combust in a daily rage or which book he’ll throw across the room first.” He counted on his fingers, listing them off one by one. “For dinner and his bath we usually draw straws or play an old board game, but Han often cheats, so…”

...His voice trailed off, eyes intently examining his mental checklist. You frowned. “...What does any of this have to do with…” Shook your head. “What are you saying again?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he bowed. Cute. “What I meant to say was that deep down Hyunjin is actually a very kind person, but...I just ended up making him sound like an overly-dependent...man...child.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, twirling a piece of hay around your finger. “Well he sure does seem like it. His manners at the dinner table were atrocious and incredibly beast-like.”

“But you don’t know him like we do,” Seungmin insisted...then smiled, apologetically so, sitting up straight again. “...Forgive me. But what we’re trying to say is, Hyunjin is really a nice guy, he’s just...stuck. You definitely didn’t help with that daily ledger,” he scolded beside him. Jeongin bowed again.

“Well, sorry, I was just trying to—”

“Stuck?”

That lone word rang out like a gunshot. Seungmin and Jeongin both turned to you with sour eyes, the former swallowing a bit uncomfortably. “...Yes, stuck.”

“In what? Time? Space? Adolescence?” You tilted your head. “Because he never learned to grow up?”

“Exactly! ...Sort of.”

You glanced down to the hay-riddled fabric adorning your lap. It’d never really occurred to you to analyze or care anything for Hyunjin’s personal life, mostly because you weren’t planning on staying and the moment you saw him transform, you didn’t want to know. Your instincts told you to run, to flee, to flood your system with a coping-mechanism gene and forget and ignore what you just saw. You wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you were scared...and who in their right mind wouldn’t be?

...But hearing this now...even given the smallest sliver of insight…

...Well, your mother had often scolded you for being nosy. “So you’re saying he never learned how to...grow up.”

Both boys nodded. “That definitely can be said.”

“And so, that’s why he acts out.” You looked around, questions popping up about the hedge maze in your mind from every direction. “How long has he been alone here? Where are his parents? …How old is he?” Your eyes focused on Seungmin. “What happened to him, exactly?”

“......” Seungmin and Jeongin shared a look. It all but drove you crazy how long it took one of them to answer. “...Do you have longer than ten minutes?”

| Twelve ❧

“Hyunjin was born to a wealthy mother and a poor, impoverished father in the year XXXX. No one knows where or how they met; Hyunjin is very selective and quiet on the matter. However, documents of his mother’s family buried in one of many attics claim they met at some time around the Summer harvest festival, an annual event that used to take place here in New Amber.

“It was the responsibility of noble families to uphold the annual harvest ceremony at the start of the season. As a part of tradition, many noble families and a few middle class families with connections to noblemen and their wives would use this great gathering to announce engagements and arranged marriages, in order to shift the power to new families and invite a sense of balance to the community. Hyunjin’s mother was reportedly sixteen years old at her time of arranged marriage, to the wealthiest family in New Amber next to the king; a family called the Song’s.

“The Song family oversought all affairs in the king’s absence; which he was absent a lot, given his aloof nature and uncaring attitude towards politics. The Song family basically ruled the city with an iron fist; many offers came to them from pushy mothers or greedy fathers who wished for their sons and daughters to tie a knot to the family name, connecting a chain to their own. A man by the name of Yun Jeongsun, Hyunjin’s grandfather, was one such parent. He weaseled his way into the Song’s good graces, and they offered their youngest son to be wed.

“Hyunjin’s mother, Yun Haerin, was against the marriage from the start. She had no interest in marriage, and instead wanted to craft her own trade to be of use to society. She wished to work alongside the Song family, rather than become one herself. As you can imagine, this angered many people; not only did it go against protocol at the time, but refusing an offer from the ruling family was considered a huge offense. And the Song family took it that way.

“As she was packing to leave the city one night— as she’d decided to melodramatically run away from her problems— she was met with Hyunjin’s father, a dirt-scratcher named Hwang Jihoon. The Hwang family had fallen on hard times ten years prior when their oil company snagged a few false investments, and the company went bankrupt and fell under. Having learned to fend for himself and adapt to life on the streets, Hwang Jihoon saved Yun Haerin from some typical back alley bandits, and finding her fancy offered to escort her to her new life outside of town.

“As you can probably guess, the two fell in love during their travels, and settled for a simple life outside of New Amber. However...Hwang Jihoon wanted more for his family. 

“No one in the Hwang family ever forgot or gave up resenting the hardships they faced. And no one especially more than eldest son Jihoon. To summarize and keep this short...Hwang Jihoon became a tyrant. He used Haerin’s maiden name to forge a new path for the Hwang’s, and eventually, the nameless city they had escaped to fell flat. It couldn’t withstand the intense amount of economic tyranny and inflation. The taxation without representation. Hwang Jihoon had swindled his family to the top and drained the entire community dry.

“So they went back to New Amber. For stability. For revenge. Now having the security and stability he needed, which he stole from others, the Hwang family came back with an iron fist of their own. Due to a current drought and a bad economic year, not to mention the king up and abandoning his people, not even the Song family could stand up to them. And promising a new resurrection of New Amber, Hwang Jihoon took the throne.

“He crowned himself King of New Amber and tore half the city apart drilling for oil. As luck would have it, the community had been sitting atop a natural oil reserve that flooded the country back into promising times. Things were actually quite peaceful for the first five years...until they ran out of oil. Taking the snag in stride, however, Jihoon used his deceit and backhanded tactics to manipulate the economy, trading and stealing from other cities. Because he was so crafty, no one caught on until it was too late.

“Hyunjin had been born just a year before. Upon his birth, Haerin and Jihoon began having marital problems, according to a diary entry by Haerin. In it she claims to have regretted her choice in marrying Jihoon, and that she’d fallen out of love with him. She claims that his only interest was power and revenge, tearing down the social hierarchy to make everyone pay— and the unfortunate effects it was having on everyone. 

“In her last entry, Haerin claimed to fear for her life. She wrote that Jihoon had violently threatened to forfeit her life if it meant continuing his reign. She was never seen or heard from after that…”

...Seungmin’s voice grew faint for a while. Tension in the air rose higher, the thickness suffocating.

You couldn’t believe such a tragic and long-rich history had occurred in such a wasteland. It obviously had fallen eventually, but…

You needed to hear more. “...So he killed her? Then what happened?”

Seungmin nodded, slowly. “It likely wasn’t him. Due to his constant appearance in the public eye, it’s more probable to say he hired someone to do the job.”

You shivered. How awful. 

As Jeongin fished out and dusted off an old blanket for you, his light coughs echoing around the barn, Seungmin continued. “With Haerin gone and the Yun family name no longer needed, Jihoon continued to thrive and plunge the city to new heights— and a harder fall. He manipulated the economy to continue spinning in his favor; meanwhile, as years flew by and he became older, he began having thoughts of the future, and who would succeed in his place. Because he was a man with no trust in anyone but himself, he summoned his only son— Hwang Hyunjin— to be molded in lessons of business and trade. How to lie, cheat, and steal.

“Supposedly the brainwashing began around the age of nine. Hyunjin had been a clueless child sent away to be cared for by a few nuns from the community in a remote location before; he’d grown up without any friends, never knowing the love of a mother or father. Only the required care provided by the Sisters of the Church. However, that does not mean he was never unhappy; the sisters did a fine job of raising him, and they truly did grow to love Hyunjin as their own.

“Of course that all changed when he was taken back to the palace. From then on Hyunjin spent his days locked away in the estate’s highest tower, like a prince out of a fairytale; forced into the education of topics he could scarcely fathom. Another maid who kept a journal of her own reported the occasional, almost frequent scream coming from the prince’s tower. She noted them as punishments for incorrect responses and behavior.

“Hyunjin was fourteen when his father died. Five years of torture and humiliation, along with a healthy dose of effective brainwashing, formed him into an angry and bitter soul. Originally, he wanted nothing to do with his father’s company. He wanted nothing to do with the position of king; but being outnumbered and powerless against the force of countless impoverished civilians forced him to make changes. 

“...I did the best I could to help him. As an advisor in training to Jihoon, I truly did what I could. Honestly, seeing him that one day...the day of his coronation...it fascinated me. There, I thought. Up there on the highest balcony. That’s the boy rumored to be the source of the screaming at night. That’s the boy who is Jihoon’s only son. His flesh and blood. The son of the late Haerin, a lasting survivor of the Yun legacy.”

Seungmin took a deep breath here, sighing out into the open space between you. Watching him flashback nearly took your breath away.

“...And so it came to be that Hwang Hyunjin took the downfall of his father’s handiwork. The moment he sat down at the throne, all the lies his father weaved came unraveled. All the shortcuts and manipulation tactics came back to haunt him. All the stolen time and resources were forced to be paid back in full. Hyunjin could hardly bear the weight of it all; the toll was almost too great. Many people saw him as cursed, and up and fled the palace to be with their families in poverty. But they hadn’t seen anything yet...”

“So…” You hesitantly reached a hand forward, then flinched, retracting it. “...I’m sorry to interrupt. But how did he...um…”

Seungmin gave a bitter half-smile, nodding. “Yeah. I’m almost there.

“One night at the head of a harsh Winter, an old woman showed up seeking shelter. Hyunjin was out stalking the palace halls lamenting his position, and upon answering, turned her away.”

Your eyes widened. “She was...the Witch of the Biome. Er, whatever her name is…”

Seungmin nodded. “Yes, that’s right. The Witch revealed herself to Hyunjin, and put a curse upon all who were present within these walls. At the time that was...well, there were a few others, but before you ask about them...they’re gone now.”

You listed your head a moment before realizing what he meant. “...O-Oh...I’m so...sorry…”

The advisor shrugged. “It was a while ago. There was nothing we could do about it. It was their choice…”

Sniffling filled your ear from down below. You bowed your head to find Felix with tears in his eyes, turning to you in need of comfort. Gently, you lifted him onto one leg, hovering cupped hands around him. “And then?”

“Then...well…” He gestured around him. “Here we are today. After the people saw what he had become, families and villagers left, some in hoards, others more sparingly. But eventually the whole city was left to erosion. Hyunjin couldn’t hide his curse forever; and neither could we.” 

He stood suddenly, dusting stands of hay and a few piles of dust from the atmosphere away from him. Outside, the sounds of clarity of nightfall graced your ears.

“So now you know. This is Hyunjin’s story...and our own.”

“So then, why am I here?”

This question seemed to catch Jeongin by surprise; but Seungmin smiled as if anticipating the notion. “The Witch tends to spout riddles about how her curses can be broken; it’s like some weird tick or bad habit while she’s casting them. Or maybe it’s just the incantation itself; no one really knows. However…” He scratched his cheek, looking to Jeongin for confirmation. The red-head nodded. “We were hoping you would be the one to break the curse. You see, the incantation, according to Hyunjin, went something like this:

“Lips to lips and mouth to mouth Calls the speaker of the shrouds Summon forth your courage and might In order to love and end within night But yet if still ye cannot fathom Ending here the chilling anthem Suffer still and face your demise For all the passing days of sunrise.”

The smallest gasp escaped your lips. Sunrise...sunrise. When sunrise comes, and all is lost...

“...Hyunjin sort of lost his way after the curse was cast. Well...no. He’d lost his way a long time ago. I guess what I’m trying to say is, he never found his way to begin with. So he really lost it after the curse hit, and he was forced back into hiding. He didn’t know what to do with himself. Everything was so...messed up. It was just a mess. His whole life had been a dark, night-infested wasteland...much like this town, almost...and then it was like someone came and dropped a hedge maze over it. He didn’t know where to go or what to do. He was already lost. So he just...screamed. And cracked. He broke, like many of the mirrors you’ll find around here. Covering it up with a delusional fantasy. That’s why he acts the way he does; sort of like he’s just existing, and nothing is really wrong. Inside...it’s chaos inside his mind. Just an ill-chosen coping mechanism to disguise the front of war. So, Y/n…”

You flinched at the mention of your name, sitting up straighter. Seungmin looked down upon you with an intense fire.

“Now that you know the story, what will you do? I didn’t tell you all this to guilt you into staying, so I hope you don’t feel that way. Nor did I tell it to scare you. You have nothing to fear but fear itself; something we’ve been trying to teach Hyunjin for a long time…” He sighed.

You glanced around the worn-down barn. At the empty hay barrels, the decaying wood structures, the various puddles of rain seeping in. What were you going to do? It was a tough decision to make...and a lot of information to process.

Your eyes traveled down to the lone marking on your wrist, now appearing to have settled into something bolder. It was definitely a petal, or an ambrosial symbol of some sort. The Mark of the Rose… 

You swallowed hard. It would seem your destiny had led you here. Even if it was a sudden destiny, a fate you never asked for. If you were going to get your old life back, well, it looked like you were going to have to take a detour. “I think...I’m going to do what I have to.”

At the other side of the barn, Seungmin blinked, remaining ever calm and collected since the moment you first met him. Jeongin, on the other hand, bore his eyes into you as if waiting to hear the climax of the story. “And what’s that?” Seungmin asked.

You stood, placing Felix on your shoulder. “You’ll see. Just watch me.”

| End Act One ❧

ღ Stray Kids M.List | M.List ღ

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

[todoscript]

10, Tamaki Amajiki, fluff or smut

Support

prompt: 10. “You really shouldn’t touch that… I told you.” genre: fluff.  pairing: amajiki tamaki x fem!reader word count: 2.0k+ warnings: mentions of insecurities.

author’s note: This is longer than a drabble should be but I couldn’t control myself. Also, this is my first time writing for Tamaki so I hope I did well portraying him. Big thank you to @burnedbyshoto for being my beta reader as well as recommending the title for this work!

Tamaki Amajiki has experienced an extraordinary amount of circumstances in his life so far that not many boys his age could even imagine to go through. He’s fought crooks, robots, supervillains, hell even the yakuza, and has managed to come out in one piece every time and claim victory. Of course, he has his training and studies from a prestigious hero school to thank for equipping him with the tools he needs to combat such peril. However, no amount of training or experience could truly prepare him for this new, menacing adversary.

A classroom full of school children.

Being a trio backed up by the honorable title of The Big 3, Mirio, Nejire, and Tamaki were given the opportunity to represent U.A. High School as they speak to classrooms of elementary students next week. This was a chance to talk with the younger generation and encourage them to think about a possible career as a crime fighter, while also ensuring that their futures were in safe hands thanks to heroes like them.

As a shy, introverted person whose solution in these social situations is to envisage everyone in the form of vegetables, Tamaki was not keen on this idea. Kids were boisterous and contained way too much energy in their little bodies to handle, making it much harder to conjure them as potatoes in his head. Not only that, but these days they’ve grown judgemental and full of themselves. They boast about their newly developed quirks amongst each other at playgrounds, already comparing their abilities at such an early age. All in all, his fragile spirit cannot handle interacting with these miniature monsters.

Nejire and Mirio seemed much better suited for this task. They glowed with charisma, and their energetic personalities naturally drew people to them. No doubt, the kids will especially be fond of how receptive they are to their young and frisky attitudes. Tamaki felt he just paled in comparison behind their light; however, his two friends would not allow him to deem himself that way.

“C’mon Tamaki, you have so many things going for you!” assures an optimistic Mirio during lunch as Tamaki sulks in the thought of meeting the kids. “You have an amazing quirk! I bet if you show it off, the kids will love it.”

True, the ability to manifest certain animal attributes depending on whatever he digests could tide the youngsters into liking him. But at the same time, would they really be captivated that easily? Aren’t kids at that age more into flashy things like lasers and explosions? No one wants to see him with cow hooves and clam hands, not with Nejire spiraling concussive vitality from her palms and Mirio shooting right up out of solid ground.

“I… I don’t know if the kids would be into my quirk…” he murmurs, eyes averting to his twiddling thumbs beneath the table.

“Amajiki, if you’re aiming to be a Pro Hero, you can’t let a bunch of ten-year-olds deter you!” chides Nejire. She forks a bit of her strewn pasta.

“Easy for you to say, Hadou. You’re bubbly and approachable. Everyone always comes to you. Meanwhile, the freshmen were intimidated by me before I even spoke a word.” Tamaki broods at his plate of food that grows colder during the conversation, but he can’t muster an appetite to eat it. “I can’t imagine how the kids would feel.”

Nejire chews on her noodles with a pitched hum. The trill ceases the moment her eyes light up, an idea flickering in her head.

“Say, how about you visit ____ at support during hero training today? I bet she can hook you up with some flashy gear that they’ll like.”

The utter of your name sends Tamaki’s body rigid.

“Oop, I think you touched something you shouldn’t have, Nejire,” Mirio gestures to the steely expression written over their friend’s face.

Dealing with children was one thing, but you were another matter entirely.

Being enrolled at U.A. since their very first year, the senior students of the hero and support departments coincided together. They drew out each other’s potentials—whether it was fighting on the battlefield or producing new innovative gadgets in workshops. Naturally, within that time, Tamaki developed a fondness for you.

You were a spirited individual driven by your passion for creating and bringing out the very best out of everyone you worked with, which included himself. With him, you were patient, never one to discourage or berate him despite his nervous and awkward nature that he viewed as probably a displeasure to work with. You took all his strengths and weaknesses to heart, and created the right tools to make him shine in triumph.

If Tamaki is the dead night, then you are the moon and stars that lit up his dark twilight, enlightening the world with his true potential.

However, the boy has never brought up his feelings to you, driven back by the thought you didn’t reciprocate, or wanted to focus more on your future as a craftswoman rather than prattle with romance. To bring you up in his dilemma of having to interact with mere elementary school kids is the last thing he wants to do.

“I don’t—”

“C’mon Tamaki! This is the perfect opportunity to kill two birds with one stone!” Nejire enthusiastically waves a finger ready to describe her expertly thought-out plan. “You come to ____ asking for some of her gear, the ordeal brings you closer together, and then boom, you naturally confess your feelings and then impress those kids next week!” She sits with a proud, lifted head and hands on her hips after explaining her master proposal.

“Hm that’s quite an ambitious plan, Nejire,” chuckles Mirio.

“Way too ambitious if you ask me,” Tamaki scowls, uncertainty forming in his features.

“Confessing to someone you’ve liked for so long doesn’t come that easily…”

Nejire pouts, spinning the last remnants of her pasta around her fork. “Well I say you should still think it over! If anything, the new gear could help.”

And so he does. Lunch soon passes in the next flutter of an eyelash. During an academic class, Tamaki ponders the idea a bit more until it’s eventually time for their hero training course.

Lo and behold, he’s standing right outside the development studio with wickedly narrow brows and contemplating eyes, acting like if he glared at the door hard enough, all his problems would be solved. With his feet cemented into the ground, he doesn’t budge for the next couple of minutes. His mind bounces between his predicament and the possible solutions at hand, reaching to a standstill. Ultimately, he knows nothing will come out of not making a decision, so after another second of thought, he decides to progress.

The steel door jars open at a slide of the handle and Tamaki ganders at the messy workspace before him. He navigates through a mess of gizmos and gadgets with careful hesitant steps.

“____? Are you in here? I, um, need your help with something,” he calls, tentative voice drawing out across the room.

“Tamaki? Is that you?” He hears the distance between your voices, “Sorry, I’ll be with you in just a minute…”

He nods to no one in particular, standing in place as his fingers play with the hem of his white, hooded cape. Too late to turn back now, he thinks. While he dawdles, he can’t help but let his eyes wander around the room, eyeing the vast amounts of meticulously crafted contraptions and accessories all developed in a high school workshop.

The support course sure is something else, Tamaki regards the creativity such students have, being able to construct so many complicated gadgets. He doesn’t know how you do it, but supposes that was another charm about you that he admired so much.

Suddenly, a whirring noise catches his attention, and he turns in its direction. He spots a device flaring in place on a table across from him, the widget shifting and flashing into an assortment of colors that isn’t comfortable for his liking.

“Uh… ____… C-Can you come out real quick? I think there’s something wrong with this thing,” he warns, tone rising with every dissonant sound the device continues to resonate.

“OK Tamaki, I’m done. What do you need— Whoa!”

Your words are cut off by Tamaki, pulling you to him using vines sprouted from his fingers, thanks to the vegetables he managed to eat today. Confused, you brace against his chest as the evident droning whir increases in volume. Tamaki holds a wavering hand over the device.

“Ah wait, Tamaki, you really shouldn’t touch that!” you cautioned. However, Tamaki’s entire hand transforms into a giant clam that quickly envelopes the contraption just as it flares and reaches its peak. He contains the small burst of energy within his shell with a wince, preventing any catastrophe from befalling on both of you and the work studio.

“Hehe, told you,” you shakily laugh off which makes him sigh as he releases you from his steady grasp.

“____, you could’ve gotten severely hurt,” he chides.

“But I didn’t because of you, so thank you very much, Suneater,” you say with a grin. Tamaki slightly tugs his hood down to obscure the growing blush on his cheeks that threaten to expose his flustered reaction to your gratitude.

“It... It was nothing,” he manages. You nod in response before approaching the faulty contraption, shifting your gaze side-to-side to inspect the damage.

“Sorry about that, I think this is one of Hatsume’s inventions from Class 1-F.”

You toss it into a pile of other defective equipment, relaying in your mind to reprimand your junior later.

“Anyways, is there anything I can do for you, Tamaki? You said something about needing my help?” Ah, right, he nearly forgot. He slowly nods.

“I need some new gear…” he admits. A light of passion infused with curiosity dazzles in your eyes.

“What for? Going to face a new powerhouse crime organization next week? Ooh, maybe another gangster threat in the criminal underground? Or perhaps you need something to combat a future natural disaster?” you surmise, but Tamaki only avoids your gaze at all your grand guesses when comparing it to the true reason:

“I need something to impress these kids I’ll be talking to next week…” he mutters under his breath, as if embarrassed.

“Huh?” You knit your eyebrows, muddled by the answer. Tamaki’s head imbues with self-conscious, anxious thoughts about what you must be thinking. However, your response to his predicament is one that leaves him more perplexed than you are.

“Why? You don’t need any gear to impress anyone. You’re fine the way you are,” you say without a single pause or hint of doubt in your tone. Tamaki pauses, grabbing his bearings at your statement before eyeing his spread out hands, unsure.

“But I’m so plain, not flashy or charismatic like Mirio and Hadou… Would kids like me the way I am?” he urges the question with uncertainty, keeping his stare on his calloused palms.

Would you like me the way I am?

You reach out for his hands, holding your own over them and bringing his wavering gaze to peer into yours.

“Tamaki, the kids will like you for who you are as long as you’re passionate about what you’re aiming to do. And that’s to save everyone and become a hero, right?” you assure, slightly tilting your head.

“You protected me without even a thought in your mind just now. That makes you heroic and courageous,” you continue, “Your nervous and shy personality are just small little quirks about you that make you who you are. You don’t need to change that.”

A smile of pure adoration forms on your lips. “Plus it’s what I like so much about you.”

Tamaki’s eyes lift in realization at your statement, his hands slowly gripping yours from below like he may not have heard you correctly.

“You like me?” he repeats, and you nod your head.

“I’ve liked you since our first year, silly.” You giggle at the stunned look etched on his face.

“I…” his words are caught in his throat for a second over the growing developments, but with every ounce of his being, he musters them out, his tone laced in only warmth and affection for you.

“I’ve liked you too, ___, I-I always have. You were so dazzling that I couldn’t help but let these feelings for you grow, and now, I’m glad I got to say them to you.” He finally admits to all the emotions stirred inside him for the past three years, and your smile widens. You inch forward, planting a small peck on his cheek that renders him a flustered mess from the surprise.

“Alright, go show those kids who Suneater is next week!”

Nejire’s plan was a success, after all.

[thedumpsterqueen]

Standards of Performance, Chapter 8: Heartbreak and Lattes

From the Beginning,  Previous Chapter

AO3 Link

Only announcement for this week: I've started a new job, and my schedule is such that a weekly update is unlikely without the quality being verrrry questionable. Therefore, I've decided to move off a set schedule, but I PROMISE I will update at least twice a month. Thank you for your patience and understanding; I know a set schedule is preferable but I wanna make sure this doesn't go to shit. Also... apparently this isn’t showing up in the tags I use, which sucks - so reblogs help a lot if you’re able. I love you guys <3

Summary: You’re the BAU’s newest intern, desperate to prove yourself amongst an established team of much more experienced profilers. Agent Hotchner, the seemingly infallible team leader, sets strict expectations for your performance. He commands your respect without even trying, but is there something more to your relationship than a simple desire to impress your stony-faced boss?

Chapter Summary:  In which decisions are made and overturned and many cups of coffee are drunk.

Words: 2666

Rating: Explicit, 18+. Warnings on AO3.

Pairings: Hotch x Reader, Hotch x You

You were sulking.

Not enough to affect your work - you’d have to go through something much worse than heartbreak before you risked your internship. But your home life was beginning to resemble a timelapse straight out of an overdramatic teen movie wherein the protagonist’s crush asks someone else to prom. Your apartment was a pile of half-done laundry, takeout containers, and case files; your evenings filled with sad Spotify playlists and too much red wine. 

And work? Not much better. Seeing him stride into the office every morning, filled with power and purpose and completely oblivious to the fact that he had shoved your heart into a metaphorical blender with a simple response to a seemingly innocuous question was really starting to wear you down. You had been so sure, that was the thing - so convinced by the team’s reaction to your story that it had all meant something. And maybe it had. But he had looked you in the face and told you it didn’t, so that was the answer that mattered.

So maybe sulking was the wrong word. ‘Spiraling’ was more accurate. A controlled spiral, mitigated only by the fact that 1. you had appearances and responsibilities to maintain and 2. Aaron Hotchner wasn’t actually the reason you showed up to work every morning, despite what it had seemed lately.

And it had seemed like that. You remembered getting the phone call that you had been accepted for an interview for the BAU internship, and the phone call that you made it to the final round, and finally the phone call that you had gotten the position - each more exciting than the last. You remembered meeting him, shaking his hand, completely oblivious to how much he was about to fuck up your life. Even when you first started to feel something for him, you convinced yourself it was nothing - a harmless crush wrought from your veneration and respect for one of the best in the field. Someone you admired. Someone you wanted to be one day. But then he’d made the unfortunate move of revealing bits and pieces of himself to you, exposing tiny slivers of humanity and emotion you were convinced didn’t exist, until you realized he was a person, an incredible one, and it wasn’t just admiration you felt anymore. It took all of a few months and a handful of genuine conversations until you were this far gone, and after he made it clear that your pining was one-sided, you knew you had to stop your fall there. 

So you tried.

You kept your conversations strictly professional. Avoided driving with him or sitting next to him on flights whenever possible. Disallowed yourself lingering glances. But it was still too goddamn much. He was still too goddamn much.

The next case pushed you over the edge. It was bad (not just normal bad, BAU bad), and it was no one’s fault, not really. You got called in late, the evidence was shoddy at best, and when all was said and done, you caught the unsub, but only after he’d killed 4 women. The last one died moments before you arrived and apprehended the killer, and despite the delay of those few minutes being, again, no one’s fault, the team was at each other’s throats the whole trip home. 

You were slouched in the corner of the plane trying to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Morgan and Reid were sniping viciously about something completely unrelated to the case, because despite everything they’d just endured, they would never outright blame each other for what went wrong. Hotch, deciding he’d heard enough, raised his head slightly and said quietly,

“They’re not always going to end the way we want. We did all we could.”

And you were just done. You couldn’t stand to be around this pillar of strength and compassion and resolve. You needed to hate him for rejecting you, and you couldn’t. So you marched over to his seat, and, steeling yourself, you said what you’d been wanting to say since he broke your heart:

“I need a day off.”

It had sounded more dramatic in your head.

“A day off?”

You nodded. Hotch gathered himself, seeming to realize that such a request wasn’t unheard of (though perhaps in his department it essentially was) and nodded. 

“This case was difficult. I wish I could say exceptionally so. Get me your paperwork by tonight and take tomorrow off.”

You went back to your seat, relief overshadowed by disgust that it wasn’t, in fact, the 4 deaths you’d just been privy to that had broken you - it was the crush on your boss. You’d handled this case like a champ, in fact, because you were so absorbed in self-pity that you couldn’t feel anything else.

You needed to fucking recalibrate.

***

You were determined to make the next 24 hours the most self-indulgent, healing 24 hours you’d ever experienced. Quiet breakfast at a cafe? Planned. Self-improvement books? Downloaded. Vibrator? Fully charged. 

No man was going to keep you from focusing on the internship you’d been gunning for for years. No man was worth that. You were going to cry, you were going to journal, you were going to masturbate, and you were going to get him out of your head.

You were going to march into the quaint little coffeeshop two blocks away that you’d Googled last night, you were going to order the cinnamon spice latte that an indie food blog had called “the epitome of fall,” and you were going to go for a nice, early morning walk.

Except you weren’t. 

Because the next morning, when you turned to leave after grabbing your drink from the barista, you saw Hotch sitting at the table by the window. And Hotch saw you. And you weren’t equipped to handle this situation, because you were only 4 pages into your self-help book so far and honestly, the smile that lit up his face when you made eye contact would’ve broken you even if you’d read all the ‘how to move on’ manuals the literary world had ever produced.

So you obeyed his beckoning hand and sat down. 

“Thought you’d be up to something much more exciting on your one day off.”

You smiled wryly. “This is exciting. I haven’t had coffee that wasn’t made out of an ancient breakroom pot or a hotel carafe in months.”

Hotch chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ve made a mistake by coming here. Breakroom coffee is going to be impossible to tolerate now.”

“That good, huh?”

“Better. Try it.”

His eyes on you, you took a sip of your latte, and swallowed the most delicious concoction you’ve ever tasted in your life.

“Holy shit.”

“Indeed,” Hotch confirmed, ignoring your vulgarity. “I’ve been coming here before work for years.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I impose on your hangout,” you laughed. “I haven’t tried many coffee shops around here, but I imagine this is hard to beat.”

“Not at all. But just know - this is my table.”

You grinned. “Understood.”

You still went on that walk. Still read that book. Still spent the day trying to think about anything else but the softness of that moment - you and Hotch sipping lattes, bathed in the light of the early morning sun.

But on Thursday, the next day, bright and early, you found yourself at that coffee shop again. This time, you took a seat at the table adjacent to his. He looked up and smiled.

“Glad you heeded my advice.”

You smiled back and gestured to the heaping pile of files in front of him. “Not like there’d be much room for me anyways.”

You finished your coffees in relative silence and left at the same time for the office.

Friday, you learned Hotch’s coffee order: flat white with an extra shot of espresso. 

Saturday, you happened to arrive before he did, so you ordered his drink and set it on his table. Ten minutes passed and you thought he wasn’t going to show up, but he soon bustled in looking frantic. You waved him over, and he smiled when he saw the coffee waiting for him.

“Sorry, got stuck on a phone call,” he apologized. Like you were expecting him. Like this was something you guys did now.

You supposed it was.

Sunday, you got called for a case before you even made it to the coffee shop. You sat down in the conference room at 6 am, groggy as all hell. Hotch entered after you and handed you a mug, saying nothing before moving to address the team.

There was a small sticky note attached to the mug that read, “It’s no cinnamon spice latte, but it’s caffeine just the same.”

You fought to keep a grin from splitting your face, and ignored the team’s knowing smirks.

The case was in a small town in Colorado. The motel the team was staying in was less than ideal because of the location - bare bones, broken heaters, probably had the same bedsheets since its opening over 50 years ago. There was a small coffee pot in your room, and after you arrived Sunday evening, you walked down the street to the small convenience store and bought a bag of ground coffee.

When you handed him the cup Monday morning, he looked at it like it was salvation itself. Which, judging by the dark circles under his eyes, it may well have been.

“Long night?” you asked, loading into the back of the SUV. 

“Always,” he responded from the front seat. He took a sip of the coffee. “I don’t mean to offend, but this is terrible.”

You gasped in mock indignation. “I’ll have you know that is genuine Folgers pre-ground gas station coffee.”

“It tastes like it was made in a toilet,” he grumbled. He took another sip and smirked at you in the rearview mirror.

You’d long stopped trying to get over him.

 After the case in Colorado, the team was given a merciful break from the rapid-fire calls they’d been caught up in the last few months. 

You and Hotch continued your pre-work ritual, showing up to the coffee shop earlier and earlier each day. For you, it was a conscious attempt to spend more time with him. He didn’t acknowledge the extra 20 minutes that had worked its way into the morning routine, but you could only hope his intentions were the same.

One particularly chilly fall day, you burst in the door 10 minutes later than your unofficial meeting time. Hotch shot you a patented raised eyebrow as you unwrapped your scarf and took your seat. 

“Overslept?”

“No,” you retorted, “I was trying to make breakfast and my stove stopped working. Again. Maintenance can’t come fix it for two days.”

“Did you eat?” he asked.

“No, I was just gonna grab a muffin or something here.”

He nodded and went back to his laptop.

The next day, you sat down to a metal thermos on your table.

“What’s this?” you asked him.

“Oatmeal,” he responded without looking up. “You said your stove was broken.”

You opened the thermos to a puff of brown sugar-scented steam and the feeling that your heart was going to burst out of your chest.

“Thank you,” you whispered, afraid your voice would crack if you spoke any louder.

He looked over at you with an expression softer than you’d ever seen him wear. “You’re welcome.”

 A week later, you’d miraculously worked your way through the backed-up deluge of paperwork from the last few cases, and after clicking through the morning’s emails, you slammed your laptop shut.

“We should go for a walk,” you said to Hotch, who somehow still had a stack of files in front of him that was threatening to surpass the table’s weight capacity. 

“A walk?” Hotch asked, looking at the aforementioned files as if he were afraid they’d hear him considering the idea of a break.

“Yeah,” you responded. “Come on. It’s so pretty outside, and it’s gonna be too cold soon. Besides, we’re more caught up with work than we have been in months.”

“Speak for yourself,” he quipped, but he packed his briefcase just the same.

It really was beautiful outside. As soon as you stepped out the door, a gust of wind sent red and orange leaves skittering across the sidewalk at your feet. You wrapped your scarf tighter around your neck and motioned to the park across the street.

“Want to walk through the park?”

Hotch shrugged, a noncommittal ‘yes’, and followed you.

The park was sprawling, packed with massive trees in the midst of displaying their autumnal colors. Despite the early hour, there were joggers and dog-walkers populating the dirt path that meandered through. You strolled side by side, making idle chat about the weather and the holidays coming up, until you came to a bench set beside a pond in a small grove. Hotch took a seat and you followed his lead.

Reclining your head against the back of the bench, you exhaled. “This is the closest I’ve come to being out in nature in forever. I need to do this more often.”

Hotch murmured his agreement. “I’d apologize for the lack of free time, but I’m afraid it only gets worse.”

“When you officially join the team, you mean?”

“Yes.” He cleared his throat. “Assuming that’s something you’re interested in.”

“Of  course I am,” you said, “but I didn’t think it was really up to me.”

“It’s not - I give the final recommendation.”

“Better start buying you more coffees then,” you teased, looking over at him.

“Unfortunately, as Unit Chief, I have a responsibility not to accept bribery.” He smiled back.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. You studied his face - the stern curve of his brow, the carved structure of his jaw, the stress lines set in from decades of sleepless nights and unspeakable losses. Despite the increasing time you’d been spending in close proximity, you were mesmerized, as always, by the stormy intensity of his eyes meeting yours. You were close enough to smell his cologne, and you were reminded of the night in his apartment when he told you about his family. If you thought you’d fallen for him then, it was nothing compared to how you felt now, after starting each morning sitting beside him in the quiet peace of that downtown coffee shop.

“We should get going,” he murmured, not checking his watch, not shifting his gaze from yours. You nodded, not fully comprehending his words, feeling dazed at his nearness.

It was impossible to tell who made the first, imperceptible shift. All you knew is you scarcely had time to think before his hand was on your jaw, cradling the back of your head, bringing you to him. His mouth met yours and you closed your eyes instinctively, melting into his warm body beside you, fisting the front of his jacket in your hands.

You couldn’t remember ever having been kissed so decisively before. His fingers gripped into the base of your skull, his forehead nearly pressed against yours, and despite the chastity of your closed mouths, you whimpered into his. He stiffened at the sound and pulled back, still holding you, inches away.

You saw the shift in his eyes before he moved. It was as if he consciously closed some gate, walling himself off. His pupils, blown, started to retract to their normal size, frown returned, hand drew back. You watched, heart still racing, unable to speak as he turned to grab the briefcase sitting at his feet. Only then did he look back at you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and if his low voice was meant to betray any hint of emotion, you didn’t hear it. 

He stood, walked around the back of the bench towards the path, and paused.

“I’ll see you at the office.”

You were too shell-shocked to reply.

[cakejots]

this is us trying, Chapter 3 - The Decision

In this AU, they don’t know each other outside of the suit. And in this AU, Ladybug and Chat Noir love each other. But in this AU, Chat doesn’t want their identities revealed.

Written for @ladynoirjuly 2021

notes: this is a coherent story based on all the prompts; each chapter contains at least 3 prompts

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3 | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10

Read on AO3

8. Admiration

Ladybug shifted from her spot at the top of Notre Dame’s North Tower, awaiting Chat’s arrival. The time it took to get in contact with him again wasn’t very long, but it was longer than the intervals between their dates. She understood that he has his own life to live, and sometimes, their schedules just really couldn’t match up. But for this time, in particular, she couldn’t help but feel that he was avoiding her.

Was it really a coincidence that he got especially busy right after he left her alone on that rooftop? She didn’t know.

Even though Ladybug had arrived 15 minutes earlier, she had that irrational fear that he wouldn’t turn up. She knew Chat wasn't like that, he always keeps his word. But she couldn’t help it, the possibility that their relationship could take a turn for the worse frightened her.

Luckily, before her thoughts could spiral out of control, Chat landed a few metres away from her.

Relief flooded her chest as Chat slowly stood from his crouched position. She was about to run over and throw her arms around him when his words stopped her.

“I’m really sorry for what I’ve done that day.” Chat wasn’t at his full height, his body posture was humbled and he was rubbing his hands.

“What I did was horrible, and I’ve no excuse for the way I treated you that day.” He had his head lowered and his eyes glimpsed at her ever so often, to see if she was listening to him. “I understand if you want to walk away, I just hope you’ll forgive me.”

Her eyes harden, posture standing even taller than before. Ladybug eyed him. This was the second time he had talked about her leaving him.

“I’m not going to walk away, Chat.” Her eyes softened as he flinched from her sudden rush of words. “But I’ll be lying if I said that didn’t hurt. I just want to know why it happened.”

Tears filled his green eyes as he fixed them on hers. His face held a sombre expression, as though it physically hurt him to be saying those next words.

“My lady,” he pleaded with a voice thick of desperation. “Forgive me, I promise I’ll tell you one day. Just… I can’t— not now…”

Ladybug sighed.

“Please know that,” he quickly rushed to her and embraced her tightly. “I didn’t regret giving you that kiss! Never.”

Ladybug raised her arms and tightened her grip on him as he trembled.

“Thank you for your assurance, Chaton.” She pulled back and surveyed his face. “I’m aware that this is a bit insensitive, but could you wait here for 5 minutes? I’m just going to get some stuff.”

Chat grew uneasy. To be alone on a cool night? He was reasonably unsettled, especially after what had confronted him just moments ago. Ladybug said she wouldn’t walk away, but now she’s asking him to stay here? How could he not be worried?

“Just 5 minutes,” her fingers grazed his face. “I promise you’ll enjoy our date even more after I bring those things here.”

He should trust her. He knows he could trust her. After all, she had said she wouldn't leave. It happened once, it can happen again.

“We can call each other while I’m—“

“It’s okay, my lady.” He pulled back and smiled. “I’ll see you in 5 minutes.”

Ladybug wasn’t convinced that he’s okay, but she gave him a peck on the cheek to ease his doubts. “I’ll be back before you know it!”

And true to her words, she came back in 3 minutes, with two pillows, a thick blanket, and a laptop in her arms.

Chat eyed them quizzingly.

“We, are going to get comfortable and watch montages of ourselves!” She sat beside him, the Ladyblog web page now visible on her screen. “Looking at how awesome we were would give us that extra endorphins boost, don't you think?”

“We are still awesome now, what are you saying?” He wrapped the blanket around them.

She giggled. “We should do some parkour sometimes.”

Bundled up in blankets with their limbs tangled, they sat there watching the best moments they had while battling Akumas, fondness for themselves and for the other clear on their faces.

Ladybug has always been like this, trying to solve whatever issues that arise. It’s how they’ve won battle after battle. Even after the threat is gone, she’s still trying to salvage the situation, no matter how small it is in the grand scheme of things.

Chat was immensely grateful for what she had done tonight. The videos had really calmed his nerves and brought back all those euphoric memories he once had. The reason why he was doing this in the first place. The joy his lady had brought to him whenever he spent time with her. The love and admiration he felt for her as she stood up against Hawkmoth on their first day as superheroes, despite Ladybug believing that she wasn’t suited for her calling.

The love…

He tightened his hold around her.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just mesmerised by how cool we are.”

How could he have forgotten? How miraculously amazing she was. No. She still is, up till this very day. Even after 6 years. Even after he denied her what she wanted most following Shadowmoth’s defeat. Even after what he’s done to their relationship. She never walked away from him, and is still trying to rectify the situation.

He wasn’t making it easy for her, even though it should’ve been after the final battle. It’s really unfair to her.

And yet, she’s still here, she still chose to stick with him.

This can’t go on.

He took hold of her hand and brought it to his lips. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

9. Cinema

“Come on, come on, come on, we’re gonna be late!” Chat hurriedly pushed her into the cinema, worried that they wouldn't make it to showtime.

“Wasn’t that 5-hour binge-watch enough?” Ladybug was obviously excited about the movie, but she couldn’t allow him the satisfaction so easily.

“Of course not! This is the sequel to the series!” He continued pushing as if there’s nothing entirely wrong with his behaviour.

“And we’re heading to a cinema now. Didn’t you say you wanted us to be as discreet as possible?” She raised her eyebrow despite Chat not being able to see her face.

“Yeah, but it’s the premiere today! We won’t be able to watch it on the laptop.” They stopped at the cinema hall entrance and Chat scanned his ticket for the seat number before he continued pushing. “Also, watching in a cinema after hours of watching from a smaller screen is just a different experience, no?”

They finally arrived at the row where their seats were, but he continued resting his hands on her shoulder, guiding her to her seat before finally letting her go. “Besides, Parisians won’t kick us out after the ‘patrol’ stun we pulled.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean we did do our job when something happened.”

Although animated films are popular in France, this particular one didn’t attract as many audiences as those action-packed animated films, which was a blessing and a curse because they would be able to get away with minimal attention on them, but also so many people are missing out on this greatness.

“Anyway, do you think we’ll cry again?” She rubbed her tear-stained eyes, “I don’t think I’ve any liquid left in me for that.”

“Nonsense, there’s definitely more in you,” he cupped her cheeks to have a better look at her. “And you still look so pretty even after all that crying.”

“Oh, quite the sadist, aren’t you? Does my crying bring you joy?”

“Come on, Buguinette, you can’t deny it was phenomenal.”

“Yeah, you’re right. It is phenomenal. But couldn’t we spread it out even more? The watch time on that series I mean.”

“I… I won’t have time for the rest of the week,” his smile fell as his hands caressed her cheeks. “I’m really sorry.”

“No wonder you wanted to spend the whole day today,” she teased. “Well, no worries about it! I love spending time with you.”

He moved his hand to hers and placed a kiss on her knuckles. “Thank you, my lady.”

And that’s when the lights started dimming. They relaxed into their respective seats, but not without interlacing their hands together.

The movie, of course, had delivered what the series had set out to do. The cinema was filled with sniffles and sobs and Ladybug and Chat Noir were certainly not spared from the experience. They were tearing like they had been all afternoon, the only difference was that they weren’t able to hold the other as tightly as they would’ve liked due to the armrest in between them.

And they didn’t realise the importance of tissues until that night. They had to go to the toilet to clean their face and clear their noses before continuing with other plans they had had for the night.

10. Moonlight

As they left the establishment, they were surprised to see how the gleaming of the silver orb that hung in the sky rivalled that of The City of Light.

Chat proposed spending the rest of the night at the top of the Eiffel Tower, given that it has been a while since they were there. And immediately regretted that suggestion when he remembered that their last memories of the Eiffel Tower were of him expressing his wishes to hold off the reveal right after the final battle.

But Ladybug eagerly agreed and was already well on her way. He had no choice but to follow through.

When he arrived, he was awestruck by the moon. He has—

“—never seen the moon this big! Wow!” Ladybug proclaimed as she took in the moon in all its beauty.

She was captivated by the glamour of the moon, but to Chat, it seemed as though she was basking in the moonlight. Her suit gave off a shimmering red glow not often seen and her dark hair looked midnight blue under it. Her back was towards him, but as she turned around to move towards the spot next to him, he felt his own heartbeat quickened. The brilliance of her blue orbs awed him, they were of a pigment he had never seen before in her eyes.

“Wow indeed.”

They moved to sit side by side on the edge and took in the view of the moon and of the city. Did they really enjoy this view of the city weekly before? Has it always been this beautiful?

“You know,” Ladybug started, breaking the silence. “I’m really glad he chose what he did in the end.”

“Yeah, they finally got together.”

She peered upwards. “It wasn’t an easy journey, but I’m so satisfied with that ending. I’m sure everyone was crying tears of joy too.”

That animated series as a whole was about conveying your feelings to the ones you love. Which he did, a lot. He was never one to shy away from declaring his love for her. But why did everything change after the final battle? Why did he change after the final battle?

His heart must’ve been tired of what his brain was trying to reason about, and thus led him to pick this series to watch, and eventually the movie. All the answers were there.

He knew his lady well enough and was certain that she wouldn't walk away. She has proved that time and time again.

So what was preventing him from being with her, when he very much desired to have a happy ending with her as well?

In some ways, his current predicament was similar to Gilbert’s. He was afraid. He was afraid that she’ll abandon him after she found out who he really was, and what he’s done.

But…

Chat looked over to see Ladybug moonbathing and enjoying the light breeze. Was it too much to hope for a happy ending himself? He knew damn well how Violet felt throughout the whole ordeal of trying to get Gilbert back by her side. Did he really want his lady to end up that way eventually, when he had the ability to prevent that?

No. That’s too brutal. The world was already cruel to him. But if he could prevent that cruelty and enable her to witness how beautiful life can be, how pleasant she had made life for him, he’d do it.

“Chaton?”

Those eyes that looked at him as though he hung the stars in her sky. Those wide blue eyes that never gave up on him despite his failure to give her what she wanted most. Those worried, concerned eyes, so full of love.

He was choked up with emotions.

“I love you.”

Ladybug inhaled sharply and stared at him unblinking, unsure if she misheard those words.

She reached out to him slowly. “Can… Can you say that again?”

“I love you.” He took her hand and squeezed it, leaning in to press his warm lips against her cheek.

He pulled back to see tears in the corner of her eyes.

“My lady?”

She still stared at him as her tears started to trickle down her face.

His hands flew to her face. “My—”

Ladybug threw her arms around him with such vitality that they toppled over. “I love you too!”

He pulled her in to close any gaps between them, so very glad that she still felt the same despite all that has happened. She planted a heartwarming kiss on his cheek as Chat landed on his back.

They basked in each other’s warmth and presence. He stroked her hair and she melted into him, happy tears flowing as her kitty was starting to declare his love for her again, verbally.

“My lady, can we meet up again tomorrow?”

“I thought you said you were busy?” She giggled.

“I did,” he grinned. “But who said anything about meeting during the hours of the day?”

[redsector-a]

AO3 Ask Game

I was tagged by @themarshalstale which, thank you so much! I feel like I always get missed on these (I know why, it’s been 84 years since I published anything but still). 1. How many works do you have on ao3?

46 it seems. Which...look I’m slow man so that’s not surprising. lol Also crippling depression does not make for much production, at least for me.

2. What’s your current AO3 wordcount?

309662 according to the stats.

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

So do I could only AO3 or in like life? lol I suppose it should only be on AO3 since this is an AO3 ask game. Hrm. Basically AO3 can be summed up as: Marvel (in several iterations - all Avengers related) Torchwood Highlander But isn’t it more fun to consider my entire fandom life, which, I’m sorry, I’m old so...yeah. Not all of this is was published and beyond that a lot is not available anymore...which is likely for the best. Highlander Star Wars Babylon 5 Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers Marvel (again, several iterations also of note Avengers and X-Men both count) Torchwood Star Trek LOTR Stargate (SG-1, SGA) Mortal Kombat I dabbled with the idea of Potter fic but never got past the ideas stage.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1: You rearrange me till I’m sane Clint finds himself spiraling into a deep depression after the Battle of New York...until the Winter Soldier ends up saving him and inadvertently giving him a new purpose – to save the man that the Soldier had once been – Bucky Barnes. Not one to be outdone, the Soldier decides that his new mission is to ensure that Clint remains alive himself. Protecting a blonde man with a self-destructive streak is somehow very familiar to him. Through the back and forth of who is saving whom they cross the country and learn more about themselves and each other – and perhaps find a reason for living. 2: Five Dates Bucky Didn’t Realize He Was on And the One He Planned Himself To say that Bucky was surprised when Clint kissed him was an understatement. But it was nothing compared to the shock he felt when he learned they'd been dating for months without him realizing it.Clint gets whisked away for a mission before they have time to talk and Bucky is left to figure things out on his own - hindsight being 20/20 he can't help but wonder how he missed things the first go around.

3: Puck Luck Bucky Barnes is used to the ups and downs of an NHL season. He's used to the unpredictability of the game, knows that bounces don't always go your way, but that doesn't make a broken hand in the final third of the season any easier to deal with. Especially not when he ends up with an impromptu roommate/personal assistant in the form of one Clint Barton - his agent, Natalia Romanova's (rather attractive) friend he hadn't known existed before his injury.

It's just for six to eight weeks - what could possibly happen in that span of time?

4: Loose Lips Launch Ships

Based on the following prompt: “We go to school together and I think you’re cute and apparently you’re also the pizza delivery guy and my little sibling opened the door screaming hey sibling! you know that kid you’re in love with? you really weren’t kidding when you said his jawline could cut steel holy shit-” Bucky is the pizza delivery guy. Clint's younger (foster) brother has a big mouth.

5: Indelible Bucky Barnes has a pretty decent life – a good job, good friends, a cat that adores him - but something is missing. He’s always found body art to be beautiful and inspiring, and on a whim (and with the hope that maybe he can find what he’s missing) he decides to take the plunge and get a tattoo. That's how he meets Clint Barton. Clint's talented and compassionate and there is an instant spark between the two of them. It's not long before Bucky finds himself wondering and wanting more from the relationship despite the ghosts of the past that crop back up. Because Clint makes him feel normal in a way he truly hasn't for years...

(this was pre-Alpine so I was totally chuffed when canon confirmed Bucky’s status as a crazy cat lady (affectionate).

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not.

I really really really want to do it but I often times don’t end up doing it. There are a few reasons. First, I am akwward AF and bad at interaction adn I feel like just saying thank you would be...not enough? Second - I often times tend to like...turtle (aka retreat into myself) when life gets Too Hard/Busy which happens a lot to me (sigh) and then I miss the vague window in my mind in which it would be okay to respond and then it’s even more weird. I do love and cherish all of them. Like there was one months ago that made me go “hmm...I didn’t think I was going to do a sequel to that fic (You rearrange me till I’m sane), timestamp glimpses sure but a sequel hadn’t come to mind” but then the comment made me think! So...who knows? lol Anyway, I literally have been rereading some in an effort to try and get myself going again. Know that if you have commented, I love you.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

At the moment? Probably: Look at you look at me Bucky's in love with Clint - problem is he's really not supposed to be. For Winterhawk Week 2019 - Forbidden Love (I really don’t want to give away the spin in the fic but...if you’re familiar with the Secret Avengers Vol 2 run circa 2013ish (aka when SHIELD initially ‘took control of the team’) that’s a bit of a hint as to the spin). Were it done, Torch Song would be up there. ;) Torch Song Clint is sent back in time, via an alien device, to 1938. While he tries to figure out how to get back home, he takes up singing and entertaining to make ends meet and does his best to not disrupt the timeline.Then he meets a 21 year old Bucky Barnes. --- A torch song is a sentimental love song, typically one in which the singer laments an unrequited or lost love, either where one party is oblivious to the existence of the other, where one party has moved on, or where a romantic affair has affected the relationship.

7. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Does *wanting* to write crossovers count? lol I want, so badly, to do more crossovers and fusions (which...are kinda deeper versions of crossovers in a way). The only one I do have posted is a crossover between Highlander and Torchwood -

The Immortal Mr. Jones A series of vignettes (some long, some short) in the life of the newly immortal Ianto Jones. My most ambitions project that I have been working on since late 2011/early 2012 is a fusion of the Avengers with Stephen King’s the Stand. I will get that done at some point *shakes fist*  The Stand, for those who don’t know it, is an epic 1000+ page novel about a flu epidemic (I know) that wipes out over 99% of the population and then two figures representing Good and Evil pull the survivors in two directions for a showdown. So basically it’s a non-powered modern AU set in that universe. It’s a passion and comfort project. lol

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes. Well, minor bitching back when I was in a prior fandom because I tagged a pairing in a fic but it was pre-slash and not labeled as pre-slash. I got hate on...I think it was Torch Song? And I’ve gotten hate on tumblr re me and my fic in general as well. Fandom! *jazz hands* Oh! And I’ve also been hit by those reviewers within Winterhawk (among general Clint pairings actually) who like rate you on either number scales or the “meh” scale. Which isn’t hate exactly but...it’s passive aggressive bullshit because I can’t believe none of them realize at this point that the authors can see their bookmarks - you know?

9. Do you write smut?

Yes. Do I write it well? I have no idea. lol

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of. Well...there was, I think, one of those reposting sites that had a few fics on it but I don’t think it was being passed off as someone else’s? I can’t quite recall. It’s why I have a note on AO3 about reposting my work anyway.

11. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not entirely, but sort of. Let me explain - I am part of a PBEM game; which for those unfamiliar since it’s a term that was most heavily in use 15-20 years ago, in which you basically do a round robin type writing thing but rather than everyone writing the same characters you write your own characters and you play off what other people have done. Another way of looking at it is  it’s basically DnD without dice and written down rather than done out loud. You also don’t have to all be around at the same time. It’s a lot of fun and yes I have been in it for 20 years even though there aren’t many of us left but they are some of my dearest friends and fabulous writers. Wins all around.  One of the other writers and I have actually toyed with the idea of doing a co-written fic actually, mostly because we work super well together and keep getting ideas for things but can’t really do them as rpgs since the pbem style isn’t used much anymore.

12. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Winterhawk probably. Though, let’s be real - Han & Leia are epic and amazing as are John & Delenn (from Babylon 5).

13. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Does wanting to expand The Black Stallion books as a wee child count? lol Not much of that was written save for world building ideas but there was a great oral tradition of telling stories to my friends. Otherwise...maybe a tie between Star Wars and Highlander. Star Wars was a love since I was super young but the writing bug didn’t hit me until around the same time Highlander was a thing as well.

14. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? You rearrange me till I’m sane for sure. Though Torch Song, if it were finished, would be tied I imagine (I suck at picking favorites). Honorable mention to Puck Luck and Indelible. Tagging: I have seen this like a million times (okay 5) so I feel like everyone has been tagged already that I know. But...I guess... @vexbatch @crazycatt71 @heartonfirewrites and @disruptedvice sorry if anyone has been tagged before.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG193!

- I think this was the first time that an episode immediately followed the previous one like this?

(MAG192) ARCHIVIST: He’s the pupil of The Eye…! JONAH (BACKGROUND): –from the now that is no longer– MARTIN: Meaning? JONAH (BACKGROUND): –even close to what the when– ARCHIVIST: He won. JONAH (BACKGROUND): –just might have been if there was time enough to run and hide from rancid deaths– [CLICK.]

(MAG193) [CLICK–] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –that stinks of hate– MARTIN: What do you mean he’s won? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and wafts to him– ARCHIVIST: I mean, he’s done it!

We’ve had scenes separated by the tape recorder shutting off/on in the same episode (for example, Tim’s interview by Daisy in MAG082; Martin and Elias in MAG118 – with a scene taking place at the Unknowing in-between) and we’ve had episodes beginning shortly after the end of the previous one (MAG038 and MAG039, with Jon’s attempt to retrieve the tape recorder; MAG118 and MAG119 with Jon lost in the Unknowing…), but never a configuration like this, I think, with a click off and instantly back on? It makes me wonder about the separation between the two tapes, in universe: meta-wise, it’s obviously because the episode would have been too long and would have covered two statements, but why the separation through the tape recorders in the story…? Is it that someone is curating the collection of tapes? Is it because each tape is already overloaded with fear…?

- Anyway, I love how the episode immediately picked up after the end of the last one, with Martin asking the question we were all asking (what the heck do you mean, Jon, and what is Jonah’s current degree of consciousness, and does that mean he is happy/satisfied right now)!

(MAG193) MARTIN: What do you mean he’s won? ARCHIVIST: I mean, he’s done it! ARCHIVIST: He’s… a–ascended, become a part of The Eye, he… He’s beyond us. MARTIN: [TO JONAH] Just shut up, Christ! JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –the promise of his own annihilation– ARCHIVIST: … He can’t hear you. MARTIN: So, so what? He’s not aware of us, of, of any of this? ARCHIVIST: No. Or if he is, it’s only as a miniscule speck amongst the flood of knowledge and fear that’s passing through him. He has become the conduit between this new world and the thing that watches it. It’s all running through him. MARTIN: Sounds awful…! ARCHIVIST: To someone so close to it, I imagine it would be a state of… agonised bliss.

* Straight to the point: Jonah probably “won” in a way since Jonah gets to be on top and is not suffering like the others (MAG160: “I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.”), but the question of whether or not he’s ~happy~… is not easily answerable – same as with Daisy being “happy”, what value does it have when it comes with the loss of personhood?

* Lovelovelove Martin Kerosene Blackwood going “Oi, dickhead!” and now “Just SHUT UP” at his ex-boss’s ex-boss. It feels like Martin jumping back in time to scream at Elias every time he was opening his mouth in season 3.

* Things I thought a lot this episode: that description of Jonah’s state was so, so so horny. “as he floats and writhes in perpetual perception” in the descriptors last week, now “the floating fear conduit that is Jonah Magnus”, and Jon inferring that he’s in a state of “agonised bliss”. H o r n y.

- … Big Ooft for Martin’s reaction because it directly put to mind the season 5 trailer, when it had been about Jon:

(Season 5 trailer) ARCHIVIST: Yes, I, I’m trying not to, but… all of the fear, th–the anguish, i–it just… [INHALE] It keeps coming at me in waves, rolling over me, filling my head with such… awful sights. MARTIN: … I’m sorry. That sounds… [SMALL EXHALE] That sounds horrible. ARCHIVIST: … I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was. … But it feels… right. [MIRTHLESS HUFF]

(MAG193) MARTIN: Sounds awful…! ARCHIVIST: To someone so close to it, I imagine it would be a state of… agonised bliss. I can… feel it, the… completeness of it all passing out from him. I can see everything from here, and that’s just a hint of what he must be feeling…

We knew Jon could feel the temptation since the beginning of the season. It wasn’t a surprise that Jon could already understand the state Jonah was in – and I love the contrast that was shown between the two:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: I can see everything from here, and that’s just a hint of what he must be feeling… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –that joined to his through choice or circumstance but now it stains his weeping edges– [RUMBLING SOUNDS START TO RISE] MARTIN: [WARNING] Jon… ARCHIVIST: … as he watches a man run screaming down endless dark alleys, that close, and crush, and press– MARTIN: [HARD WARNING] Jon… Stay with me. ARCHIVIST: Sorry. I–it’s a, it’s a lot…! MARTIN: I, I can see that, but you need to keep it together. ARCHIVIST: S–sorry, I–I think… I can handle it.

Jon slowly easing into the fascination and utter desire of leaning into the suffering was bone-chilling, from simple description while explaining to Martin, to utter ravishment. Jon-Jonah difference, though: Jon has an anchor, and it’s Martin!! And I love that we could see Martin as the two aspects of “anchor” that had been alluded to in the series:

(MAG099) GEORGIE: Look, you’re worried. I get it. But if you really think you’re turning into something… inhuman, you need people around you. You need anchors. ARCHIVIST: All my “anchors” are just as deep in this as me. GEORGIE: Well, you still need them.

(MAG129) I need an anchor. I… I could go in… myself, I, I could find her. And… then, I just need to get out. I need something out here. Something I can know the way back to. I, I don’t know what. But… [HUFF] It’s a start.

(MAG145) ARTHUR: [Agnes] never told us how she felt about being bound to you! Never even called you by name. Just called you “her anchor”. The thing weighing her down, and tying her to this world, stopping her destiny!

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Wi–without… trust, without a, a reason… Gertrude needed both the purpose her mission gave her, and the control her position allowed. To be here, like us, without a, [INHALE] a reason, without someone to ground her, she… She’d have power but… no control. No real… purpose. Perhaps she’d dedicate herself to a, a doomed quest like us, but– … [QUIET] No… I think this would have broken her. And she’d have resigned herself to… ruling her domain. […] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SNORT] Ssso. If you say Gertrude wouldn’t have been able to go on without a reason… ARCHIVIST: Yes, Martin, you are my reason.

Grounding in both cases but: both as the element allowing Jon to return to, protecting him from wandering, and as the element dragging him down. (Same thing, just depends on the perspective!)

I also like how Martin sounded firmer and more confident about his own ability to keep Jon grounded. He used to panic (sounding more aggressive and/or resorting to slaps to get him back), but now… he knows he can do it, that he’s enough to keep Jon from Beholding’s temptation.

- A lot of confirmation that Jonah is there but-not-really:

(MAG192) MARTIN: Can he hear us? ARCHIVIST: I… MARTIN: Does he even know we’re here? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… […] [SADLY] He can’t hear you, Martin. MARTIN: Yeah, I got that. What’s wrong with him? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s the pupil of The Eye…!

(MAG193) MARTIN: [TO JONAH] Just shut up, Christ! ARCHIVIST: … He can’t hear you. MARTIN: So, so what? He’s not aware of us, of, of any of this? ARCHIVIST: No. Or if he is, it’s only as a miniscule speck amongst the flood of knowledge and fear that’s passing through him. […] He’s too far gone…! He’s barely even aware we exist. […] I–it’s far too late for either of them.

And damnit, I can’t help but be a bit sad about it! My speculations were even worse for him (No Mouth But I Must Scream, while hey, in the end, we got to hear him for two episodes!), but I was still hoping I could hear more of his gloating and/or pitiful regrets and/or fear… but he might not be in any state to feel and manifest such things. (And I’m guessing that Martin was really hoping for that too – minus the gloating.)

- Regarding Jonah’s “statement” / litany of horrors in the background:

* Last episode had given the impression that it was coming for his throat (“he” protagonist, lots of Fears but constantly cycling back to fear of death); this one was fluctuating more, from one victim to another. We began with “him”, “his”, “he”, we jumped to a “she”, then to a singular “they”, and ended on “herself”. So, Jonah seems to be taking glimpses of different victims going through their nightmares, sticking with them for a few scenes before jumping to follow another.

* Same as in MAG192, some bits felt like familiar descriptions of Fears! I spotted potential End (“him with promise of the fast approaching corpse that bears his face”), Extinction (“and holds within its chest the promise of his own annihilation”), Desolation (“splintered powder cast of empty blackened earth”), Spiral (“jumbled symbols twisting in the edges of his sight”), Lonely (“the emptiness around him but the mist that curls its bitter weeping ache around his legs”), Slaughter (“all the butchered ugly fates”), Hunt (“a smile upon the face of something grinning at her sharply”), Vast (“they look down to see the pitch black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky and yet they know it is the smallest tip of only one appendage reaching up”), and the episode finished on… Web (“glassy eyes and fangs that drip with poison”).

* Some bits reminded me in particular of Martin’s Lonely house (the “house she almost knows to be a home but empty hollow and devoid of all the trappings that could once have given comfort to the pale and weeping shadow of her life that has been left devoid and faded at the corners like a photograph whose sepia-tinted warmth has drained to just a crowd of faceless staring strangers”) and of Jan Kilbride’s experience in space and of Antonia Hayley’s creature underwater (something too big to be fathomable, making people feel meaningless in comparison).

* (Because I really wanted to be able to “hear” all the words from Jonah’s litany: I realised that the transcript skipped a small portion of the audio around 3’30-3’50, shortly after “tapestry of suffering that billows in the wind” and until it goes back to “to know she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over”… but I didn’t manage to make out anything specific from the audio either, I could just tell that Jonah kept talking in the background. No idea whether it’s genuinely a small piece of speech missing from the transcript, or if the recorded background litany was actually a biiit too short compared to Martin and Jon’s exchange and a little cover up was necessary to buy some time!)

* Same thing as last episode: overall, at first glance (/ear), Jonah’s horrors seem like they’re told without much inflections… but no: Jonah does occasionally give emphases and slow down or accelerate, it just feels less lively than Martin&Jon’s dialogue or Jon’s own dramatic interpretations.

* The “with a pull that makes her stomach drop to know she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over and across the surface still as cracked obsidian but deeper than the world could ever dream” felt especially awful because it really reminded me of Jon – with the Panopticon itself having been described as “obsidian”, Jon admitting that he had felt a pull towards it, and the overall threat of Jon losing himself, aka “drowning” (MAG127: “It’s like there’s a–a–a door, in my mind. And behind it, is… i–is the entire ocean. Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I–I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it. I–I–I, I can keep it closed… but sometimes, when I’m around p–people, or–or places, or… ideas… a drop or two will push through the cracks, at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something.” “What happens, if you open the door?” “… I drown.”).

* The last picture evoking a spider and The Web’s knack for control ended the episode on such a terrifying note, ahaha!

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –is so cold it is so coldly sneering as sticky strands pull taut against the flailing struggles as they try to pull away from what approaches in the distant edge of this colossal latticework of bone and sickly paste that twists and curls with each vibration of those fools like them now caught and wrapped and flailing in their heaving desperation not to see it looming over them with glassy eyes and fangs that drip with poison and the promise of the slow and steady agony of feeling all that was herself dissolved and broken down into the bitter pleading–

Getting restrained, seeing it approach while being unable to do anything (like an insect caught in the web) and understanding that it will be a long torture (spider injecting venom in its prey to be able to slurp their inside)… which, ahah, wasn’t ominous at all when we still don’t know what The Web/Annabelle’s interest in Martin&Jon is supposed to lead to.

* Most wonderful/awful part of it was the distinctive repetition of the “what have you done” and how they synched with Jon&Martin’s dialogue:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: S–sorry, I–I think… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –moved by others, or that might just now be his– ARCHIVIST: I can handle it. JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –what have you done– MARTIN: Right, so what’s the play? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –what have you done what have you done what have you done– ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not sure…!

That was… quite distracting. And I love how it worked as the current victim’s feelings (who had apparently slaughtered a loved one in the nightmare?) and their guilt, but also resonated as Jonah’s own words (as if he was panicking over his own ritual) and as a jab at Jon (as someone who… came here).

- I love that Martin was back to being the resourceful one, trying to find weak spots and formulating hypotheses with what he understood of the situation!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Well… we came here to confront Elias– urgh, Jonah, whatever! So: how do we do that? ARCHIVIST: He’s too far gone…! He’s barely even aware we exist. MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? […] Okay. So not that then, but… wh–what about something, like… physical? ARCHIVIST: I… What? MARTIN: Look, I know it’s all about… dream logic and metaphor and all that… stuff, but, you know, what if we just… what if we just grabbed him and, you know, pulled him down? Or, or just threw something heavy at him? ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, I don’t… MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right. … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? […] Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them.

It’s not a novelty – we have regularly seen him being practical, suddenly revealing that he had been thinking about how to solve a particular problem for a while already, thinking about his plans, discarding ideas and trying new options:

(MAG022) MARTIN: I think I might have… lost my mind a bit, then. It all… feels very… strange, blurry. I–I remember stamping and stamping as–as more made their way under my doorway. I–I remember grabbing every towel, sock, bit of fabric scrap that I could find, stuffing them under the door, into the cracks around the window. Anything where a slender worm might crawl I made airtight. And then I sat there and waited.

(MAG039) MARTIN: I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, th–the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option. [HEAVY SILENCE] Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t! I’ve been thinking for a long time about what to do when… well, y’know, this happens.

(MAG118) MARTIN: We… [SHAKY INHALE] We need to leave. MELANIE: We “need” to kill him. Look at you! He needs to die. MARTIN: … No. [INHALE] No, I… I knew what this was gonna be.

(MAG162) MARTIN: –so, I’ve actually had a couple of bags packed for a while, now! [HEAVY ITEM DROPPED] ARCHIVIST: Oh! MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Uh, Martin, I… MARTIN: No, no; I, I know what you’re going to say. [RUMMAGING] “What good are maps when the very Earth has…” and blah blah blah…

(MAG186) MARTIN: So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah!

(MAG189) MARTIN: It’s fine. Maybe there’s another way in. What’s this thing made of anyway, like, like, obsidian or something, right? ARCHIVIST: One-way mirrored glass. MARTIN: Of course it is. Well, if it’s just glass, then it won’t be hard to break, right? We can just grab something heavy, like one of these cameras, and then all I need– [GRABS SOMETHING AND THERE IS A WET, FLESHY AND YET PNEUMATIC-LIKE SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Oh, I wouldn’t. MARTIN: Oh! Oh! Eurgh… [GAGS]

In comparison, Jon has kept the role of explaining the dream-logic, of how they sometimes had to proceed in compliance to the domains to go through them (“the journey will be the journey”, explaining to Basira that she had to see the “monster” in the domains she had traversed in order to be able to catch up to Daisy)… but he’s been lacking out-of-the-box imagination to deal with them.

- I love the hilarity of Martin offering to drag Elias’s body down or to yeet things into his face – I mean, I had thought about it, too! But it’s so satisfying to hear Martin suggest it ♥

(And technically, he has all the items necessary. He had mentioned packing that rope when they had left the cabin, and they have an infinite supply of tape recorders.)

- Sobbing over Martin and how one of his first ideas was to attack Jonah’s original body… since we know he’s been feeling guilty about not killing him when he had the chance:

(MAG158) PETER: There is… of course… just one other complication? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] You’ll have to dispose of the current occupant. MARTIN: Curren–… [QUICK FOOTSTEPS] [SHARP BREATHING] … Who is that? PETER: Jonah Magnus! His… body, at least. Sitting here; watching; binding it all together; growing ever older. If you want to take his place, well… MARTIN: … I’ll need to kill him. PETER: Yes. Don’t worry, though. I brought a knife. […] Martin. What are you doing? MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND]

(MAG186) MARTIN: [HEAVY SIGH] If we’re glad, why do I feel so… ALSO MARTIN: Guilty? Because you feel guilty about everything. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not– […] If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! ALSO MARTIN: Really? Really, that’s how you’re choosing to remember it? “Chickening out”? MARTIN: I remember it was the wrong choice…! ALSO MARTIN: You choose to remember it that way, and so the guilt– MARTIN: [SIGH] I–I get it, all right? But I need it, I, I choose the guilt, because… ALSO MARTIN: [LEADING] “Because”? MARTIN: Because it motivates me to do better!

(MAG193) MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right.

* No way to compensate for back then, that body doesn’t exist anymore. But I’m glad he thought about it and asked! Since I did ask myself the same questions!

* No “remains” in the title, but Jon did drop the word in relation to Jonah in the episode! It’s almost a tradition titles-wise for episodes pertaining to Jonah (MAG040, “Human Remains”: involved Gertrude, but it was still ~a body found in the tunnels~ (and Elias gave a statement during that episode); MAG092, “Nothing Beside Remains”: letter addressed to Jonah, read by Elias; MAG127, “Remains to be Seen”: letter addressed to Jonah, and Elias speaking for the first time in season 4).

* It’s interesting how the concept that Jonah’s original body had already disappeared made it sound like he was already diminished. The only traces left of Jonah are his eyes (since he transplanted them from body to body), and his consciousness… but he’s not exactly there with Jon&Martin anyway. It’s like he’s partially gone already, and likely doomed to entirely disappear without gaining anything back.

- Aouch for Jon confirming that turning Beholding against himself might result in a disaster:

(MAG193) MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? ARCHIVIST: No. God knows what would happen if I called upon The Eye to try and destroy a… vital piece of itself. In the best-case scenario, nothing happens. MARTIN: And worst-case? ARCHIVIST: No idea…! An enormous explosion that… destroys the world? We get torn apart, but… still suffering, o–or cast off to the edges of the fearscape, maybe? I… I don’t know.

With Jon still pointing out that he “doesn’t know”. He has ideas, he has fears, but he isn’t sure either; and just like his hesitations in front of the Panopticon, I wonder if it’s not Beholding trying to hold him back by feeding him orientated bits that Jon would interpret as undesirable scenario…? (I’m curious about that mention of “the edges of the fearscape”: it means there might be something still, out of the Fears’ reach?)

- This was the second time Martin sort of “prompted” a statement by orienting Jon towards it:

(MAG167) MARTIN: I bet Gertrude would be able to do this, you know? She, she would eat a hellscape like this for breakfast…! [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I… don’t think she would have done very well here… MARTIN: No? ARCHIVIST: No… MARTIN: Do you… know that…? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: [DEEP INHALE] “To say that Gertrude Robinson never had a friend would not be true.”

(MAG193) MARTIN: … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? ARCHIVIST: Ah… Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] MARTIN: Again? But you just did one for Ro– … Ro… [REALISATION] Oh no…

And I get why it’s happening (Martin is asking Jon questions about something he didn’t know already, so he has to think about it and search for the answer… and the answer is not that simple, and unearthing information that Jon didn’t know or hadn’t processed, leading to a full statement), but I wonder if it happens specifically thanks to Martin. If Basira were to ask the same questions, would it lead to the same result? I’m thinking again to the hypotheses that had been formulated after MAG160 and Jonah calling Jon an “archive”, with Jon as the archives while Martin could work as an Archivist: given that Martin had sometimes been in the position to ask questions and orientate Jon’s powers, there is a bit of a feeling that Martin is curating Jon’s powers, sometimes…?

- It was almost poetic that Jon began to fall into the statement… precisely when Jonah was narrating about Something emerging under the surface:

(MAG193) MARTIN: … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and cry in panic at their howling crew– ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? ARCHIVIST: Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –to ready for a harrowed doomed escape– ARCHIVIST: Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –from what begins to rise below them– [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] MARTIN: Again? But you just did one for Ro– … Ro… [REALISATION] Oh no…

And then, both Elias and Martin shut the heck up and listened to Jon.

- At this point, I wasn’t expecting a statement about the original Elias anymore! I was curious about it, but didn’t really count on it since Jonny hadn’t seemed that interested in the potential prospect of saying things about him, in the season 4 Q&A (unlike the Admiral question, which clearly gave the impression that he was hiding something specific). Shouldn’t have trusted him on that!

- I was so excited in the first few seconds of Jon’s statement bubble because the sound in the background was once again Elias’s clock, indicating his office!

(MAG193) [STATIC RISES] [PANOPTICON SOUNDS FADE] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [OCCASIONAL RUSTLE OF PAPER] ARCHIVIST: “He recognises those eyes”

Since the beginning of season 5, I was crossing fingers that we would hear the sound of that damn clock again, and we heard in in the last two episodes, so that’s cool!

(… I still wonder if Barnabas’s bones are hidden inside of it.)

- Just Little Interview Things: Martin, Rosie and Elias all noticed Jonah’s eyes.

(MAG170) MARTIN: … At least I’ve got a job now. Did I tell you I’ve got a job? I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!

(MAG192) ARCHIVIST: “His eyes, though, were different. There was something in them that… unsettled her. They didn’t match the rest of his face. They were cold, and grey, and somehow so much older.”

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “He recognises those eyes. He’s seen them all his life, watching him, judging him, cutting through him so no part of him was secret or safe. They peel away the armour, his carefree smile and practiced shrugs. They are the eyes of his father, and they stare at Elias over an old mahogany desk, sat in the face of a man who said his name was James Wright. His interviewer smiles with his mouth, but the eyes are the same. […] Elias can’t look this man in the face, and tell him that he is what scares him. That his eyes, the curiosity and judgement that pulses out of them… they terrify him in a way he can’t put into words. He feels that prickly panic building in the back of his skull, that worry that spills through: he knows. […] Those eyes stare, impassive and stern as ever, but… is that a twinkle of satisfaction? As though he has been given him an answer he likes. […] He stops. Those eyes. They know. They can see right through all his bullshit, right to the core of him. They know what he really thinks. […] Elias’s stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. […] Yet somehow he found himself sat across from this man, whose smile hadn’t moved the whole time – and whose eyes seemed to know why he was here far better than he did.”

* Elias’s own fears in relation to those eyes and to Jonah’s overall behaviour reminded me of Martin’s a bit, with them being terrorised at the idea of being known, because they knew they had things to hide (including who they were).

* Still howling at the daddy issues/projecting the father image onto Jonah, what a concept.

* It still cracks me up how terrifying and ominous Jonah felt during these interviews… because it’s absolutely not something we could feel about Elias in seasons 1 and 2, when the impressions he gave off were “bland” and “doesn’t exactly know how to exert authority (and gets annoyed at some points when Jon is pushing against that)”. Was he going all out in the interviews overall? Did he get less In Your Face in the 2010s? Did Tim, Sasha and Jon kind of repress how terrifying their own interviews had been, or assumed it was just the jitters colouring their memories? Jonah sounded especially snobbish and haughty in this episode, way more than is usually heard from him: I wonder what part was the tangible, objective truth, and what part was Elias Bouchard’s own perception of him colouring the statement (since Elias was feeling like this guy knew about him and his secrets and had power over him, then he remembered him with these intonations).

* “Sometimes, I’m eating.” he told Basira in season 4 when he was in prison – was he conducting mock interviews on other inmates or officers for dinner.

* That said, I love Jonah’s unsubtly going directly to the point with Elias – immediately aiming for fears, doing his best to be unsettling and make Elias lose his footing and make traumatic memories resurface. I wonder if in this case, it was because Elias “dared” to think he could use the Institute for his own gain and carreer, as if Elias could outsmart him? Or because there was the question of what had brought Elias here? (I! really! want! to! know! about Jon’s own interview!!)

- THE MAHOGANY DESK IS CANON!!

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “[…] they stare at Elias over an old mahogany desk, sat in the face of a man who said his name was James Wright. […] Beyond that stretch of polished mahogany, so well waxed that Elias’s pale, sweating face is clearly visible, James Wright’s smile remains unchanged.”

I just can’t believe it’s now canon… because, cough. When I wasn’t yet listening to TMA but trying to gauge whether or not I would like it through fancreations, I had noticed the trend of associating Elias with a letter opener and a mahogany desk in fanfiction (before understanding that oh, okay, no, it’s just that yeah, it fits his aesthetic, but it’s not referring to specific canon things). So this takes me back, and I can’t believe that the damn mahogany desk in Elias’s office was canon all along =D

- I was hoping for a dual statement with lines shared between Jon&Jonah, I was so close yet so far!

(MAG193) [JONAH/ELIAS IS A DARK, STATIC-VOICED ENTITY – EACH LINE A CRACKLING MIX OF DEEP INTONATIONS YET STILL CHARACTERISTICALLY ELIAS] JONAH/ELIAS: So tell me, Elias. What are you afraid of? ARCHIVIST: “Elias Bouchard freezes in place.”

* There could have been the question of whether Jonah’s voice in the statement was the Jonah-in-the-room or emanated in Jon’s statement (like the usual background sounds)… but: it was Jonah!Elias’s voice. It wasn’t Jonah!James’s vocal chords. Plus, unlike the usual sounds and distant voices or breaths in Jon’s statement, Jonah really sounded like something intruding: his voice was clearer and came with glitchy static, as if… two different spheres (domains?) were interacting unnaturally. Jonah’s voice didn’t feel like it was part of the statement: it felt like Jonah was forcing his way to interact in it.

* I loved the play around roles that happened in this statement! In summary: Jon was telling the (third-person, internal focalisation) story of Elias Bouchard, occasionally impersonating him through direct speech, in order to answer to his interviewer from back then, Jonah, who was back then possessing the body of James Wright, and is in the present possessing Elias’s body and speaking through his vocal chords. Jonah gave his lines as Jonah, but the fact that Jon gave Elias’s words, that we got to hear the real Elias through another voice? That was such a pretty installation.

- It’s interesting comparing Elias’s job trajectory because it reminded me of Sasha a bit?

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Why would he ask him something like that? Elias is applying for a research job – what the hell does that matter?” […] JONAH/ELIAS: Good. The job is yours.

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: It was a remarkably fast climb to the top, as from what I can find, it looks like he only joined the Institute five years before, in 1991, working in the Artefact Storage.

(MAG039) SASHA: I’ve had to retreat into Artefact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there. God, I hate this place. … Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.

So Elias might have been hired as a practical researcher just like Sasha? I wonder if it’s a general researcher thing for new hires at the Institute… (If it is: did it happen to Jon, too? But I’m also having some thoughts about the idea of Jonah sending his potential next hosts there. Wouldn’t have liked for it to happen in canon, but dang, the concept of Jonah!Sasha does have a certain appeal.)

- Not surprising for Magnus but: I love how a few mentions tend to lead the fandom to assume things about characters, and those things turn out to be true, but not the whole truth. Until now, we only had a few allusions to who the real Elias Bouchard was:

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. Elias Bouchard is a difficult man to pin down, certainly since he became head of the Institute in 1996, taking over from James Wright, who ran the place from ‘73 until he passed away. It was a remarkably fast climb to the top, as from what I can find, it looks like he only joined the Institute five years before, in 1991, working in the Artefact Storage. Perhaps he was simply that impressive. Certainly, the Elias I know now is almost unmatched in terms of paranormal knowledge. Well. Theoretical knowledge, at least. And yet, everything I found out about his life before the Institute seems… an ill fit with the austere man I know. He apparently graduated with a Third from Christ Church’s College in PPE, and I found an old gossip column in the student newspaper that – sure well – that mentioned him. If I’m not reading too much into it, the implication seems to be that he was… something of a… pothead. [CHUCKLE] Was he… like that when he first came to work here…?

(MAG154) ERIC: Mary probably thought it was funnier if you didn’t know, and… Wright would have preferred you not to know…! How is he, by the way? GERTRUDE: James? He died about… twelve years ago. Elias is Head of the Institute, now. ERIC: “Elias”? Elias Bouchard, seriously? GERTRUDE: Hm, he has changed a lot. ERIC: Must have!

So: given the degree and the Uni, we could guess he likely came from a posh family and had basically paid to get his degree. We knew the rumours about him doing pot. We knew that it had surprised Eric to learn that this Elias Bouchard would become Head of the Institute. And: all those things are true! Elias indeed, came from a privileged background, indeed smoked weed, indeed wasn’t brilliant, but all these elements got recontextualised with more depth.

* Even Jon immediately wondered if Elias had been a known pothead when he was hired at the Institute… and no, “of course” Elias wasn’t quite that carefree:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “He feels that prickly panic building in the back of his skull, that worry that spills through: he knows. He knows I’m high…! The thought leaps to Elias’s mind for only a second before he remembers that… he’s not. He hasn’t lit up all day, of course not, he’s got an interview. But even so, he can’t shake the familiar paranoia. He looks again at his would-be employer, who seems like he’s about to repeat the question. “Spiders,” Elias says quickly. “I’m afraid of spiders.” […] JONAH/ELIAS: Now tell me: why do you want this job? ARCHIVIST: “Elias tries not to visibly sigh with relief. This, at least, is a question to which he has prepared an answer. He clears his throat slightly, shaking off the lingering image of Allan’s body. “W–well,” he begins, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers on Indo-European traditions which was very useful for my dissertation on–”

He was still a regular smoker, but he came sober and had prepared for that interview! He wanted that job and had done his research to perform well! (Which, honestly, is… not a given in interviews.)

* The posh family thing was… kind of heart-breaking, actually:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “They know what he really thinks. A position in a small, obscure little academic organisation, the first step on a path to the position he actually deserves. This place could be anything, as far as he is concerned. Medical research, a grant foundation… it doesn’t really matter. […] His father’s words came to him again, as they always had, through childhood, boarding school, university. “You’re a smart boy, Elias, but you’re lazy. You have every advantage that I and this world could possibly provide, and yet you insist on squandering them! Don’t think I don’t see you, looking at those other children with envy, as though their meaningless little lives could contain anything of substance, anything for a Bouchard to aspire to. You are better than them, and they know it. And it is your job to prove worthy of that distinction.” Elias’s stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. What should he say? [PIANO STOPS] That he had no idea why he wanted this job? That he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family, nothing but the deep certainty that he deserved better. That he was destined to be important. That it was in his blood.”

There was something plain sad about Elias’s upbringing – how, sure, he came from a privileged family, but he was also looked down on by his own father, who still hammered a toxic mindset into him to the point that even when his father died… Elias still felt like his only possible role was the one his father had attributed him. It reminded me a bit of the statement in MAG180, about the abusive mother still haunting the victim even through death, and the feeling that they could never escape her influence.

And the feeling of superiority made Elias unpleasant! And he had already benefitted from his family by getting a degree he had barely earned! And got the advantage of knowing the social/expected cues to get what he wanted (hence using the right vocabulary and reasons to get hired during his interview)! And he might have grown up continuing to be a terrible person, unable to change this mindset and fucking lots of people over, like the privileged class tend to do! … But from what we know of him, he didn’t have the time to do that last part, or even to possibly change and free himself from a mindset that was also poisoning him. It’s like Jon had pointed out to the Distortion, about “classic” Helen:

(MAG187) HELEN: You haven’t looked into Helen-Classic’s past yet? You should try it! I don’t think you’ll like what you find. ARCHIVIST: What, lying to real estate clients? Bit of a prick at parties? Secret Tory? HELEN: Yes. To all of them, actually. [BAG JOSTLING] [FOOTSTEPS STOP] ARCHIVIST: And that’s the problem. I could have grown to dislike her, but… you made sure that sort of thing could never happen. Now you use her form, see her mind, but they’re just… tools. [BUILDING CREAKS] Michael had nothing you could use but a razor-straight desire for vengeance, but you saw something in Helen that would work on me much more subtly. So you took her. And I’ll never get to dislike her. I’m stuck disliking you instead.

Maybe the real Elias could have grown into an awful, powerful adult man. Maybe he could have changed and unlearned his father’s toxic lessons. We don’t know; he didn’t manage to achieve much and got eaten by a bigger shark when Jonah took possession of his body, and we’re stuck disliking Jonah instead. I like how it worked both as an exploration of how the privileged class tend to entertain myths about themselves, how they reproduce their awful mindset from generation to generation, leading them to perceive themselves as “superior” and deserving of more (we all have those political and economical classes, sadly), but also how that requires fucking these same people over until they conform to that mould and these expectations.

* I love how it turned out that even the “pothead” thing didn’t feel like it was unrelated to the fact that Elias had his own issues: he didn’t come from a loving family, was often high… and he also resorted to drugs to help Allan calm down. (Which was the worst thing he could do: don’t give drugs to a friend when you suspect they’re hallucinating.) It felt like the drug thing really was his way to cope, hence trying to get Allan out of his spiral through it…

- I’m screaming again at Jonah’s relationship with The Web – SPILL IT, WHAT DO YOU KNOW, WHAT WERE YOUR OWN WEB EXPERIENCES, ASSHOLE.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““Spiders,” Elias says quickly. “I’m afraid of spiders.” James Wright nods, the smile curling into one of satisfaction, though Elias is sure the man doesn’t believe him. Those eyes break contact for a moment, flicking up to the corner of the office where… at the edge of a bookshelf that sags with age and weight, a small cobweb has started to form.” JONAH/ELIAS: Very wise. A very… sensible fear. ARCHIVIST: “It is. Yeah, it is. But is it… true? For a moment, Elias really can’t remember. Right here and now, the thought of a spider genuinely repulses him. The image of a scuttling, filthy creature, eight eyes glinting out in the darkness, crawls into his mind, and he shudders, looking away for a second. [SHUFFLING] But the uninvited thought keeps going. [SCUTTLING SOUNDS] He imagines the spider moving up his leg, his body; he imagines feeling its bristling hairs against the skin of his shoulder, his throat, his cheek. Its spindly probing legs finding their way up his face. Elias can’t stop himself picturing that spider sat there, venom dripping from fangs that hang, poised over his eye. He can’t shut his eye.”

* Was it just a random cobweb. Was it a signal from The Web that it had been what sent Elias to Jonah.

* “a small cobweb has started to form” was such an amazing wording because: 1°) if you take the sentence literally, it means that the web is forming itself (no spider is weaving it) – it’s just appearing, like a trap or a story, as a mirror to Elias who is sealing his own fate by joining the Institute, 2°) if you assume it implies that a spider is creating that web… where is the spider? Is it hiding behind the bookshelf or somewhere in the office? Is it Jonah himself? (Web!Jonah Web!Jonah Web!Jonah…)

* Elias’s vision was SO CHILLING. The sounds effects (spiders scuttling) were terrible; the gradation was terrible; the last picture was horrible (Web as a predator for Beholding?). What was it, exactly? Jonah implanting the mental picture into Elias’s head? A forgotten memory from Elias? A premonition of what was to come…?

- I gushed about the office clock but: just like with Rosie, the memories following each other had all their distinctive sound effects. Jonah’s office had the clock. The memories of Allan’s corpse and of Allan’s last night had a sort of fast-paced metronome in the background. The memories of Elias finding Allan with his book at the library had another clock, also a bit faster than in Elias’s office. The alternations built up the anxiety and tension, gave the impression that everything was accelerating, and that time was just following its course – that it was impossible to go against it.

(It reminded me of the clock in Jon’s hospital room, when Oliver gave his statement in MAG121, reinforcing the story Oliver was giving about the impossibility of escape: “That was it. That was our fate. Where we would always be. Because I was going to take us there. Running was pointless. To try and to escape from my task would only serve to fulfil another.”)

- The book Allan came across didn’t seem to have the Leitner bookplate, but that doesn’t mean anything about the nature of the book itself since Leitner was just applying his mark on pre-existing books. Still: we know that Elias joined the Institute in 1991, so those memories took place before the fall of Leitner’s library (which happened in 1994):

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Allan is in the library, irritated at the interruption, but happy to see a friendly face. The whites of his eyes are riddled with the scarlet veins of sleeplessness, but his hand trembles with a feverish energy as he tries to explain the significance of the book he’s found. Even sober, Elias couldn't have followed what his friend was saying, lost in layers of theological scholarship – but he smiles anyway to see the reserved young Allan so passionate about his subject. He looks at the book itself. It’s old, crumbling, with none of the usual college library markings. He asks Allan where he got it, and his friend doesn’t answer, instead glancing around with a sudden self-conscious suspicion. Elias shuffles round to get a closer look at the pages, then stops in confusion, as he realises they are all blank. Allan only laughs when he says so. Was the laughter really that cruel…? Or is it just the warping of memory, the past he tries to forget, mixed with the nightmares that came after, the faces he dreamed of seeing in those pages.”

* Once again, where did these books come from…? Did they directly emanate from the Fears? Were they part of older Archivists’ collections, were they statements from older times? Were they part of Johann von Württemberg’s tomb, did Jonah let the books free to ensure that they would terrorise more people and create more Fears? … Are Jon’s own tapes forming another collection through another medium…?

* I wonder whether the blank pages meant that Elias wasn’t under the book’s spell, or whether it meant that whatever horrors it contained had been freed already. Jon had noted that when MAG125’s book had been found blank, it had seemed like it didn’t have any power left:

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: Another Leitner, obviously. Not one I can readily identify, though it sounds like it would now be… “inert”, anyway. Given the blank pages, I do wonder whether its destruction was a… last-ditch effort to stop its effects, or the exact thing that released its power in such an… extreme way.

But we also had Albrecht’s case, where the pages were blank to Fanshawe’s eyes while Albrecht didn’t find anything strange with them, though those might not have been the original books in the first place…

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) “I do not know how he died. I saw nothing and no one with him, and his body seemed whole and undamaged. But I do have some idea as to why it happened. For as I filled those dead shelves with freshly bound volumes… I could not help but notice that every page was blank. I have since checked with Payne’s, who I believe to be your preferred bookbinders. And I know that the books poor Albrecht was returning to the grave… were not the books that were taken. I hope they bring you much wisdom, Jonah, for the cost was dear enough.”

Overall, there were a lot of elements reminding me of Albrecht’s discovery in the Black Forest, though it might just have been Beholding Things:

(MAG022, Albrecht von Closen) “It was the man from the cemetery. His wide brimmed hat was removed and he stared at me. His head was completely bald, and his eyes were missing. They were just empty sockets but they stared at me. They saw me. Believe or dismiss anything else in my letter as you wish Jonah, but I swear to you that I stood face to face with a man with no eyes and he saw me.” […] ARCHIVIST: Something else I stumbled across quite by accident during my research was in Grim Tales, H.T. Moncreef’s exploration of unexplained and macabre deaths in early 19th century Europe. It mentions a death that took place in Schramberg in 1816. The man, one Rudolph Ziegler, was found dead at his home on the outskirts of town. What is interesting is that it says he worked in service on an estate nearby. Shortly after his death, one Wilhelm von Closen was investigated for the crime, as it was discovered the dead man had been stealing jewellery from the estate. It was eventually dropped however, after four doctors attested that the ferocity of the wounds inflicted on Herr Ziegler were, and I quote, “beyond the capability of human violence”. It was ruled an animal attack.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““It saw me,” Allan keeps saying, over and over again, “It saw me through the pages. And it’s coming.” He sees it, he says, in every mirror, every distant doorway, a silhouette on every skyline. Coming closer, each and every time, finding its way towards him, step by step. “It has no eyes,” Allan sobs, “so it has to feel its way towards me. But it knows. It knows!”

[…] When the light comes on, Elias has no idea how much of the crimson that bathes the scene is from the blood on the walls, how much from the blood that tints the lightbulb, and how much is simply the shading of his memory.”

- ;; The snippets of Elias and Allan’s relationship were so sad… Elias was intoxicated, granted, but the fact he was just happy to see Allan’s enthusiasm all the while he couldn’t understand anything about it? The fact that he tried to get him high to make him feel better:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Elias has no way to comfort him. He can’t even understand what he’s talking about. And so on that, the last night of Allan Schreiber’s life… [LIGHTER BEING TURNED ON] he just gets him high, and leaves him to sleep it off.”

… and that was the last time he saw him alive…?

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “When the light comes on, Elias has no idea how much of the crimson that bathes the scene is from the blood on the walls, how much from the blood that tints the lightbulb, and how much is simply the shading of his memory. But he remembers so clearly what he was thinking as he looked at what was left of Allan Schrieber: where are his eyes…? What did they do with his eyes?”

- Delighted about the glimpse regarding the Institute offering Actual Documentation:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““W–well,” he begins, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers on Indo-European traditions which was very useful for my dissertation on–””

There had been a few references to people getting or not the credentials to consult the library, and Melanie had required Jon to vouch for her and grant her access to it back in season 2, but I think this is the first time we hear about actual publications from Institute researchers! And it’s not a big surprise that they would be involved in mythology studies and the likes – outside of the Archives, it felt like the Institute was working like a “normal” academic institution, so it feels logical that they would research what was believed to be supernatural in older civilisations.

- I’m still laughing so much at the piano playing Chopin’s “Funeral March” in the background when the flashback with Elias’s father happened. And then, it jumped to him being dead and in the casket.

- Gotta love the tradition of Jonah only hiring people who were isolated and/or had an experience with the supernatural.

* Elias pointed out in his statement that his father had already died and that he had no connections anymore, when he joined the Institute (“he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family”), and he had lost his friend Allan to a Beholding creature in uni (so, a matter of a few years or months before).

* Michael Shelley had lost his friend Ryan to a Spiral creature, thus leading him to the Institute (MAG101: “After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson.”).

* Rosie had just divorced and was left bereft (MAG192: “Because I let my imagination and paranoia wreck my marriage, and now I’ve got nothing; and if I don’t get a job, I’m just sitting around an empty flat staring into space.”), and she might have had a Corruption encounter as a kid (or it was just mundane insects).

* Martin had to drop out of school to provide for his own mother at seventeen, so there was likely no more family he could rely on around him.

* Jon’s only family member was his grandmother, who died roughly around the time he joined the Institute. He’d already had a Web encounter as a child, knew that the supernatural existed, and Jonah pointed out that his Web mark may have been a reason to hire him (MAG081, MAG160).

* The Stranger took Danny, prompting Tim to join the Institute – and Elias had pointed out that he already knew the broad gist of Tim’s feelings (MAG104: “I knew there was some trauma that drew you to us, but I can’t say I ever thought to look much deeper. An oversight, perhaps, but I’m looking now.”).

* Melanie came back with a recent Slaughter mark and her entire network collapsed around her (MAG084: “God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?” “The end of what?” “Everything. Friends, clues, savings. Everything. Options. There’s nowhere left for me to go. I don’t know why, but… I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help.”), leading Jonah to NYOOM onto her spectacularly fast.

* Basira had more than her fair share of Section 31-worthy encounters and mentioned her father in the past tense (MAG117).

Gotta love how apparently, any orphan-or-almost with a supernatural encounter could waltz into the Institute and technically get hired. You don’t have many connections around you and you’re traumatised? Have fun working here, job is yours.

- I’m SUPER interested in the moment Elias began to get self-conscious about his presence there, asking himself why… and not being able to answer.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “… Where had he heard about this job opening? Had it been in a newspaper? He knew no-one who worked here, but received a letter anyway inviting him to interview. [SHUFFLING] Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even sent out a CV. Yet somehow he found himself sat across from this man, whose smile hadn’t moved the whole time – and whose eyes seemed to know why he was here far better than he did.”

We’ve had cases of people being drawn to the Institute after their trauma: Tim wanted to understand what had happened to his brother, Jon might have wanted to understand the forces at play behind the Mr Spider book, Michael Shelley was drawn to the Institute in the same way, etc. In their cases, we can’t really know how much was their own curiosity and how much the Institute itself influenced them to head its way (if there is any difference): was it Beholding attracting people with trauma behind their curiosity? Was it The Web pushing a few people to go to the Institute, such as Jon? But whatever drew Elias towards the Institute, there is the fact that he apparently received a letter although he hadn’t submitted his CV in the first place… so who had sent it? I didn’t feel like it was Jonah (though his questions could have been rhetorical); was it specifically The Web, sending someone already traumatised by a Beholding encounter and the fear of getting his eyes stolen? Did Jonah interpret it as a gift from The Web (kind of “here, this is your next host”), just like he had with Jon, hence him looking at the cobweb forming in his office?

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “I’ll admit my options were somewhat limited, but – my God! When you came to me already marked by The Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as a sort of… implicit blessing on my whole project, and… do you know what? I think it was…!”

- Favourite moment of the episode: when Jonah cuttingly asked Elias why he had come here.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““I, uh…” Elias’s voice wavered, paused. “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers [STATIC RISES] on Indo-European traditions which was very–” JONAH/ELIAS: Enough. Tell me: why are you here? ARCHIVIST: “I… I don’t know.” JONAH/ELIAS: Were you drawn here? ARCHIVIST: “… Yes. I was.” JONAH/ELIAS: Against your will? ARCHIVIST: “No.” JONAH/ELIAS: Then why did you heed the call? ARCHIVIST: “Because… this is the place I know I should be.” JONAH/ELIAS: Good. The job is yours.

* Jonah’s questions suddenly getting razor-sharp.

* Elias absolutely losing his façade and answering quickly, straight to the point. Did Jonah actually compel him back then…?

* The fact that the scene worked on three levels: as James interrogating Elias within the story; as Jonah interrogating Jon in the present… with the additional level of Jonah interrogating Jon from the past, maybe – asking why Jon had come to the Institute six years ago.

* The dread coming from Jon’s voice! It was impossible to guess whether he was still fully impersonating Elias’s own, or if it was Jon himself, breaking character and getting startled by the questions.

* It was terrifying as ~Jon answering to Jonah in the present as to why he had come back to the Panopticon~: when Jon answered “this is the place I know I should be”, it already introduced the idea that he was ~meant~ to take Jonah’s place as The Eye’s pupil…

- I wonder whether Elias had actually gotten that flash in the past:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Elias has the briefest of flashes – a sudden burst of terror, an image of himself, strapped down, helpless. [STATIC FADES] [DISTANT LOUD, ECHOING SOUNDS] The vanishing of well-known faces, and the harsh sneers that replace them as they stare at him. He cannot move. He cannot scream. What is happening? What is it, that he feels deep down in his skull? What are they doing to his eyes? This… presence, old and rotten, in his mind? He can do nothing but watch.”

* That last sentence was such a Beholding mood.

* Was it a memory of James Wright’s own demise, as Jonah had invaded his body, that Jonah had been tauntingly showing Elias? Was it a retroactive fast-forward: Elias, knowing of his fate, colouring the memories of his interviews with what would happen to him? Or was it a genuine premonition which had hit Elias back in 1991, with the idea that Elias’s fate was sealed when Jonah told him “The job is yours.”, and that his only future would be the one we knew of – that in five years, he would become Jonah’s next host…? (Beholding’s powers had never been about seeing the future, though, and Jon has pointed out this season that he couldn’t know about it entirely…)

- Ahahah for the end of the statement reminding me of Jon’s own words in the liveshow…

(MAG000) ROSIE: ARCHIVIST: Yes, thank you Rosie. … Oh, do tell Elias thank you. For the opportunity.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “The moment passes, and Elias returns to himself. He tries to smile, and thanks his new employer for the opportunity.”

SOB.

- On the one hand, it’s been two statements at the top on the Panopticon already, and on the other hand, I can’t help but hope for a less-flattering Jonah statement extracted/told by Jon (bonus point if it does include the scene of Jon’s own hiring interview or promotion)…

Interestingly, the last two episodes have been digging progressively deeper into the past: Rosie’s statement began after “Elias” became Head of the Institute, with her interview, and followed the events surrounding the Archival staff until the Change (late 2015 – October 2018). Then Elias’s covered the pre-Jonah!Elias years, with his interview and a flashback into Elias’s recent past with Allan and a few other memories.

- At the start of the episode, Martin had the reflex to call Jonah “Elias” before correcting himself, which is something that happened almost systematically all through this season, both from Jon and from Martin:

(MAG161) MARTIN: [SIGH] Gloating, Jon. [CREAKING SOUND] Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! […] MARTIN: Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: He’s inside the Panopticon; the Tower, far above the world.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what?

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I didn’t mean to, Elias was… We were all playing out this big ritual for him. With me as the lynchpin, the gate. […] BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

(MAG178) MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG186) MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! […] What, like with Peter and Elias? […] Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others.

(MAG187) ARCHIVIST: I see. How long have you been working with Elias?

(MAG188) ARCHIVIST: I suppose they don’t get many new faces around here. MARTIN: Especially not the Archivist…! Don’t forget you’re a celebrity! ARCHIVIST: Maybe. Or maybe it’s Elias’s personal welcome wagon.

(MAG189) ARCHIVIST: Uh, m–me versus Elias – Jonah, we… We both draw power from The Eye.

(MAG190) ARCHIVIST: I was… the catalyst, I–I didn’t… Elias– Jonah Magnus used me.

(MAG192) MARTIN: [CALLING] Elias! Jonah, Jonah Magnus!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Well… we came here to confront Elias– urgh, Jonah, whatever!

(Most notable exceptions being when Jon was approaching the Panopticon in MAG189, and tended to allude to him as “Jonah (Magnus)”, and when he told Rosie that they had an appointment with him).

At the end of this episode, though, Jon thought to make the distinction:

(MAG193) MARTIN: Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? […] ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. […] If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place.

I wonder if from now on (well, for the 7 episodes left…), Jon&Martin will have less trouble calling him “Jonah” instead of “Elias” like before. It was understandable that they would call him “Elias”, since they had always known him as such… but now, we have had a glimpse at who the real Elias was. It might help them to accept to conceptually distinguish the two?

- It sounded to me that Jonah stopped his chant when Jon gave his statement:

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over and across the surface still as cracked obsidian but deeper that the world could ever dream as something wakes and shifts below they grab the wheel and cry in panic at their howling crew to ready for a harrowed doomed escape– ARCHIVIST: Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –from what begins to rise below them… [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] […] ARCHIVIST: [TREMBLING GASP] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): … as they look down to see the pitch-black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky–

Jonah’s chant wasn’t incoherent in itself: it followed a succession of scenes and pictures, but there was still a logic through that flow. When Jon began to give his statement, the scene was taking place at sea, with a “they” subject (I think there was a gender-neutral victim and a plural “they” in the same scene?); when his chant resumed afterwards, the scene and subjects were the same as before. So it’s likely that it’s not just that we couldn’t hear Jonah anymore, but he flat-out interrupted himself. If this is indeed the case: does it mean that every time Jon gave a statement this season, Jonah stopped his own litanies of horror? And since Jon pointed out that Jonah is now part of The Eye: does it mean that Beholding can’t focus on two “statements” at a time and/or that it will prioritise Jon’s own litanies of horrors when he has to tell them?

It reminds me of Elias’s own known weak spot, as it had been used against him in season 3:

(MAG110) BASIRA: Or maybe when he’s not paying attention. MARTIN: Mm? BASIRA: Distracted, like, during your, hum, your performance review. MELANIE: Wait, what do you mean? MARTIN: Yeah, what…? BASIRA: Well, I was heading out, and… Martin, you remember you knocked over that huge stack of papers? MARTIN: Hey, hey, they shouldn't have been there in the first place. Besides, I cleaned them up. BASIRA: But not in the right order. MARTIN: [HUFF INDIGNANTLY] BASIRA: And… when I brought them up to Elias yesterday, he asked why they were messed up. MARTIN: Y– … you didn’t tell him it was me? BASIRA: … It’s not the point, Martin. The point is– MELANIE: He wasn’t watching you! He was busy.

(MAG118) ELIAS: Now, if you’re quite done, I am very busy. MARTIN: Oh sorry! Sorry, I’m not keeping you from the show, am I? W–well, well you head back, I’ll keep myself busy here. Albrecht von Closen is next, [PAPER RUSTLE] I think.

(MAG120) ELIAS: I knew you were all planning something, of course, but I didn’t believe you specifically would have the, uh… capacity for boldness that you displayed. Hm! It took me quite by surprise. MARTIN: You didn’t just see it in me? ELIAS: Honestly, I didn’t look. For all my power, I will admit I am not immune to making the occasional lazy assumption. I presumed that I knew you thoroughly but, by the time you demonstrated otherwise… well. There was simply too much to keep watching over. I only have two eyes, after all.

So, mm… if this is the case, Beholding turning its focus on Jon might be used against it, in the same way? I don’t know what for but… there was that this episode.

- Even Martin noticed the difference ;;

(MAG193) [STATIC RISES AND FADES] [THE PANOPTICON SOUNDS RESUME] ARCHIVIST: [TREMBLING GASP] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): … as they look down to see the pitch-black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky– MARTIN: Are you all right? That was… intense. ARCHIVIST: Yeah… Uh… I just… uhh… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and yet they know it is the smallest tip–

I really wonder how that statement looked, from the outside (or at least from Martin’s point of view). Did Jonah lower himself closer to Jon to say his lines as “James Wright”? Did the whole room change and show the “set” of Jonah’s office, and then of Elias’s university days? 

- I’m super-impressed that Martin managed to keep track of his initial question!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right. … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? […] Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them. MARTIN: Oh, damn. ARCHIVIST: There was never anything we could have done.

And that he immediately connected that it was probably the statement of a person – not of an overview of them like Jon had done with Gertrude.

Jon’s answer, though ;; It had been a huge fandom interrogation after the Jonah reveal: was the original Elias still in there somehow? Watching and being unable to do anything sounded like a fitting Beholding torture, and the statement toyed with the concept too (“He can do nothing but watch.”). In the end, we still don’t know when Elias’s consciousness faded (when Jonah took full possession of his body? Gradually over the years? When the Change happened?), just that he’s not there anymore.

- Lots to cry about when it comes to Jon’s reveals and Martin’s reactions:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: There was never anything we could have done. But I–I saw… MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: You were right. MARTIN: About what? ARCHIVIST: His body is vulnerable. A–at least to me. MARTIN: … What’s the catch? ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –of those fools like them now caught and wrapped– ARCHIVIST: … it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place. MARTIN: Oh, god…

* Martin immediately understanding that no, it’s not a Good scenario, that there is a cost or negative consequences coming with it. (Well, or he was simply able to read the room: Jon would have been happier, if it was a hopeful option.)

* Martin was so keen to kill Elias for the whole season:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate. MARTIN: … Right.

(MAG177) BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck. ARCHIVIST: … Ah.

(MAG186) MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…!

(MAG189) MARTIN: This is it, then. ARCHIVIST: This is what? MARTIN: Don’t play dumb. It’s the final battle, right? We… climb the tower, take out the bad guy, figure out how to change the world back, and back in time for tea! Right?

… And we had loads of hints leading us to believe that Jonah was either dead already (well, in a way, he already is), and/or that killing him would not change anything to the situation (confirmed!), as already displayed with the domains’ rulers getting exterminated by Jon without leading to any improvement for the victims (Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared) – at the very least, we could guess that Martin was very unlikely to actually get to take his negative feelings out on Jonah.

I love the little twist that this is actually worse than that: if they were to kill him, it would mean losing Jon too, yay!

* Overall, it’s very fitting with the season 5 exploration? Martin focused so much on Jonah who, granted, was the one to scheme for the apocalypse to happen, but he’s now confirmed to just be another cog in the Fear machine – and just like a cog, he’s replaceable. The problem has always been the Fears themselves.

- Jon has been shutting down a lot of options regarding what he could do and what might happen, lately:

(MAG191) MARTIN: … Jon. If… When we defeat The Eye, the Fears… What happens to you? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Nothing good. I think it depends on what actually happens. If we figure out a way to defeat them, banish them somehow, kick them out of our reality and back to where they came from, I might… survive? I think I’d stay more or less like this; w–weaker, but fundamentally… still an avatar in a world where the Fears are… once again lurking on the edges. MARTIN: … But I assume that’s the best case scenario? ARCHIVIST: Depends on your point of view, I guess. In the long term all we’d have done is… bought some more time. … If, however, we… find a way to destroy or, uh… eliminate the Powers… I’m not going to be okay. There’s… too much of me that’s part of The Eye now. I don’t… know what would be left of me without it. Maybe I just… die. Maybe I survive, but I–I lose… something. My identity? My mind? My… memories? I don’t know.

(MAG193) MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? ARCHIVIST: No. God knows what would happen if I called upon The Eye to try and destroy a… vital piece of itself. ARCHIVIST: In the best case scenario, nothing happens. MARTIN: And worst case? ARCHIVIST: No idea…! An enormous explosion that… destroys the world? We get torn apart, but… still suffering, o–or cast off to the edges of the fearscape, maybe? I… I don’t know. […] MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. […] MARTIN: Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them. MARTIN: Oh, damn. […] ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement.

And I really wonder if it’s to discard these options, or to introduce them as concepts because some are indeed meant to happen…

- I’m screaming that Jon’s realisation explains so well what had happened back at the cabin:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC RISES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It is time that I emerge…” [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] […] MARTIN: Look, Jon, I… I, I know it hurts, but you’ve just got to… ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…!

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place. MARTIN: Oh, god… ARCHIVIST: And I think… that’s exactly what it wants…!

That explains why Beholding wanted Jon to leave the cabin! And why Jon had felt that rush of violence towards Elias: it was pushing Jon to discard Elias and take his place! And that also explains why Jon felt the pull so strongly in the Panopticon – Beholding was eager.

(MAG191) MARTIN: The Eye isn’t, like… calling you, or something? ARCHIVIST: Oh, no i–it is. But I can’t get a… clear reading on it down here, i–it’s kind of maddening, actually? Like… being on a street you almost remember but… can’t find on a map.

(MAG192) MARTIN: Not keeping you, am I? ARCHIVIST: S–, No, I–, it’s just… I, uh… MARTIN: What, you’re not tired? ARCHIVIST: Oh no, believe me, I am! It’s just, uh… It’s kind of… difficult not to keep climbing? MARTIN: What, like… you’re being called? ARCHIVIST: More like… pulled. Gently, but very definitely upwards, towards the top. MARTIN: That… could be a bad sign. ARCHIVIST: Probably…! Too late to bail now, though.

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS: Enough. Tell me: why are you here? ARCHIVIST: “I… I don’t know.” JONAH/ELIAS: Were you drawn here? ARCHIVIST: “… Yes. I was.” JONAH/ELIAS: Against your will? ARCHIVIST: “No.” JONAH/ELIAS: Then why did you heed the call? ARCHIVIST: “Because… this is the place I know I should be.”

We got a glimpse of what Beholding was trying to push for, there is still the question of the reasons behind it. Without ascribing it a sentience, why would Beholding prefer Jon as its conduit? Is it because Jon’s dreams ended with Jon being part of it, and that it feels like a natural evolution, that Beholding is seeking the completion it used to get with Jon’s dreams?

(MAG120) ELIAS: “At last, he looks into The Eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror – but he cannot. He. is. whole.”

Is it because unlike Jonah, Jon has been reading statements and feeding Beholding? Is it because of Jon’s nature as an Archivist? Would any of the other Archivists down there be fitting for the position, then? Is it because of Jon’s ability to fear? Is it because Jon, although controlled by Jonah’s script, was the one to “open the door”?

- Relatedly, reminder that we still don’t know what and where Jon’s domain is. Is it friggin’ Beholding itself.

- I’m worried about Martin, I’m really worried about Martin since now, Jon has explained that it was possible to take Jonah’s place as Beholding’s pupil… and Martin had once been set up to replace Jonah in his seat of power…

(MAG158) MARTIN: But, I don’t understand, why are we here? PETER: It’s quite simple, really…! I want to use the powers of this place to learn about The Extinction: what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it. MARTIN: And you need me for this? PETER: Correct! Without a connection to The Eye, any attempt to use it would likely end… very messily indeed! But thankfully, it just so happens that you hold such a connection. MARTIN: So that’s it… Both “lonely” and “watching”. PETER: You must admit you’re the perfect candidate. MARTIN: I suppose I am. PETER: There is… of course… just one other complication? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] You’ll have to dispose of the current occupant.

What would happen if someone strongly powered by another power were to become The Eye’s pupil? Would it affect Beholding as a whole?

- Since MAG192 and MAG193 followed each other without a gap between tape, I wonder whether that will be the case for MAG194 too. Will we go back to Jon and Martin at the Panopticon, in front of Jonah, with Martin reacting to what Jon just concluded (that Beholding might have called him there specifically to get him to take Jonah’s place)? Will we go back to them after a small interruption? Will they be back down in the tunnels to think about their options and share with the class (Melanie&Georgie)? Or would Beholding stop them from leaving the room? Will they be joined by Annabelle, or will Annabelle send a message their way? Basira was on her way to London, too – if she were to arrive, that might be an occasion to withdraw and regroup, if the building let them…

I’m going to do this every time, now, but: seven episodes to go. At this point in time in previous seasons, we had only just met Tim and heard about “Peter Lukas” for the first time, Basira had given Jon her statement about Maxwell Rayner’s death (with Jon pondering who had tipped off Section 31 to allow them to find him – that was later revealed to have been Elias himself), Martin had been very tempted to touch the plastic explosive and Jon had read a letter sent by Adelard Dekker for the first time, Julia&Trevor had trailed after Jon after having discovered that he had taken Gerry’s page from “their” book, threatening him (and introducing their future raid on the Institute), and Jon had discovered that Daisy was slowly dying from Hunt deprivation but was still keen to not give in. There is still so much that could happen…?

MAG194’s title has me a bit at a loss: it’s easy to picture a few configurations for the first level meaning (Jon and Martin? Jonah and Beholding? Jon&Martin and Melanie&Georgie?), but I’m really at a loss when trying to picture a second meaning…? Unless it’s about a recurring item such as Jon’s lighter or Salesa’s camera? Or about someone (Annabelle?) revealing things…?

[mindingmyownbusiness]

Rescue (4/?)

Pairing - Bucky x Reader Soulmate AU Summary - You’ve always believed your soulmate was out there somewhere, Bucky not so much. What happens when he finally takes a leap of faith and reaches out to you? Warnings - some canon-typical violence in later chapters, the occasional curse word, but I promise to make up for it with loads of fluffiness Chapter Word Count - 1757 Notes - I’m hoping to post new chapters about once a week on Saturday nights so wish me luck (and any encouragement you can offer is always welcome!). Inspired by Rescue by Lauren Daigle and by a lot of the concepts in Sense8.

Series Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

His POV

Bucky Barnes had been through a lot in his life but nothing from his past seemed quite as terrifying as the silence he was experiencing at the current moment. It was as if a switch had been flipped, nothing but radio silence. A thousand thoughts were screaming at him as he paced back and forth in his room, his heart rate and panic skyrocketing. Is she okay? Is she hurt? What if someone attacked her, hurt her? Bucky didn’t know what was happening with his newly discovered soulmate and it was completely debilitating. He felt useless, helpless… he didn’t even know her name, where she was, had no way of knowing if she was hurt or worse… “This was a horrible idea, I don’t know why I ever listened to Sam in the first place.” Resisting the urge to punch the wall he slumped to the floor, head in his hands.

Your POV

What the hell just happened…? You grimaced as you moved to sit up, gingerly touching the throbbing lump on the back of your head that unfortunately was becoming more painful by the second. Leaning back carefully against the wall you closed your eyes and took some slow, deep breaths, trying to get the room to stop spinning so you could figure out why you just woke up on the floor surrounded by cocoa splatters and the broken remnants of your favorite mug. I remember taking the brownies out, fixing my drink, looking out the window and talking to my soulmate like I always do, and then… It was like time stopped as your eyes flew open and you remembered hearing words that clearly weren’t yours. Did he…? Was that really…? N-no way… could it be? Or did I finally completely lose it and project my desires so hard I passed out…? You pressed trembling fingers to your lips as you silently prayed that it wasn’t all in your head and then you listened, reaching out with your whole being for that connection you’d dreamed of your whole life. Please be there, please be there… You held your breath, your heart feeling as if it would burst any moment. 

Later you’d swear that you felt him before you heard him, that pull, that connection deep within, giving you the tiniest moment to prepare before you finally heard his voice growing stronger and clearer with each word he spoke. 

“--rible idea, I don’t know why I ever listened to Sam in the first place.” You exhaled with a soft laugh, overcome with joy and emotion and literally blurted out before you could stop yourself--

“Who’s Sam?”

His POV

Bucky’s head snapped up. “You’re alive?!”

Your laugh was like music to his ears. “Sure feels like I am, got a bit of a bump on my head though… and my favorite mug is toast.” He could hear the twinge of sadness in your voice and immediately felt the strange need to fix it.

“That explains the sound that scared me half to death...”

“You shoulda been here to see me keel over, now that would’ve been something.” There you go giggling again, he was quickly becoming addicted to that sound.

As your laughter faded away the silence descended again. One beat, two beats, three-- “So…” you both started and then immediately chuckled in individually adorable, awkward ways.

“It’s really you? M-my um, soulmate?” He could hear the cautious hope in your tone.

“Yeah, looks like it is.” He hoped he didn’t sound as nervous as he felt. 

“This should feel weird, right? But somehow it doesn’t, and that should be weird, right? Sorry for rambling I-I just can’t believe it’s really you...”

“It’s alright, I just found out today that soulmates were a real thing so I’m still trying to decide whether or not I'm hallucinating all this.” 

“Same here, but mostly because I feel like I’ve been waiting my whole life for this moment.” The longing in your voice was unmistakable.

“Oh,” he deflated a bit, suddenly worried that he’d ruined things before they’d even started. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“Oh no, don’t be sorry okay? We’ve found each other now a-and that’s all that matters.” He sighed in relief, the tone of your voice instantly putting him at ease. He was feeling more and more thankful for.. for..  He groaned, facepalming as he realized his mistake. Nice move idiot, he thought as he cursed himself internally.

“What’s wrong?” Your worried voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I just realized I don’t even know your name,” he said apologetically.

“Oh, It’s um, it’s (Y/N).” Wow you really can hear when someone is smiling, he realized.

“(Y/N)... that’s a beautiful name. I’m James, but everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Bucky hmm? Can’t wait to hear the story behind that nickname.”

“Not much to tell, it’s just a play on my middle name.”

“Well, I still look forward to hearing all about it. So, soulmate James slash Bucky, how much do you know about what we are, about soulmates?”

“Not much actually, not sure what’s fact or fiction since my only sources are my roommate who doesn’t have a soulmate yet and the cesspool that is the internet.”

“Well consider me something of an expert, my parents were actually soulmates and they told me all about it. What questions do you have?”

He thought for a moment. “Is it true that we could see each other, if we wanted?”

He could hear you hum thoughtfully. “Yes, ‘if we wanted’ being the key bit there, consent is absolutely essential.”

“My roommate, that’s Sam by the way, said that since I was seeing and hearing you in my dreams that you must have been pretty open about connecting with me, is that true?”

“Dreaming about me already, huh?” He couldn’t help but smile at the affection in your voice. “Well Sam is right, I decided a long time ago that I wanted to be ready for my soulmate whenever my soulmate was ready for me. It seemed like a natural first step.” 

He pictured you in his mind’s eye, the girl literally of his dreams. You were probably dying to know what he looked like as well. Bucky suddenly worried about all the things that made him a very complicated soulmate. His past, his age, his current occupation, his arm… his thoughts quickly spiraling out of control.

“Bucky? A-are you okay? You’re awfully quiet...”

“Y-yeah I just… I’m not sure I’m ready to show you what I look like yet.” He knew his voice sounded strained but he couldn’t help it.

“It’s okay, if you’re worried that I won’t like the way you look or something you don’t have to, worry that is. The soulmate bond goes so much deeper than the physical, we are literally made for each other, it’s gonna be okay.”

“I just… I think I’m gonna need some time to process all this, to get comfortable with it. Is.. is that okay?” He hated sounding so vulnerable.

“Hey of course it’s okay Bucky, you’re not gonna hurt my feelings. I’ve waited my whole life to find you, just knowing you are really there is the most wonderful thing that’s happened to me in, well, ever! I love being able to finally talk to you and the rest, well the rest will happen when the time is right. I’m not going anywhere.”

Yet again everything about your voice eased his anxiety and he felt himself relax. “Thank you doll, that means a lot.” 

He heard your tiny sharp intake of breath, then your timid whisper, “Oh, I like that.”

He was momentarily confused until he realized what he said. “Like what? Being called ‘doll’?”

“Yeahhhhh..” You sounded a bit flustered, something that interestingly enough gave him a small sense of pride.

“Are you--- are you blushing right now?” He knew he was being cheeky but gosh he was loving it.

“Mayyyyybe?” You were definitely flustered and Bucky was hooked.

“Now that I look forward to seeing.” He was legitimately grinning at this point. 

You gasped, “Who knew my soulmate would be such a charmer? Bet that works on all the girls where you’re from.”

“Nah, not any other girls, not for a long time anyway.” The sound of Bucky’s phone alerting him to a text pulled his attention away. “Shoot I gotta go… I’m late to meet up with Sam. Um, so how exactly do I contact you again?”

“Well, if everything works the way it’s supposed to, all you have to do is listen for my voice. This sounds nuts but I actually talk to you all the time, like an embarrassing amount, about the most mundane things. You just don’t hear it all the time because you aren’t tuned into me.”

“So I just need to ‘tune out’ when we are done and then ‘tune in’ when I wanna talk to you? That seems too easy.” He couldn’t help but sound skeptical, but then again he’d learned a lot of impossible things in his long lifetime.

“Yep, and it’ll probably get easier as time goes on honestly.” You paused before continuing, your voice thick with emotion. “I-I'm so glad we finally met, Bucky.”

“I am too (Y/N), I really am.”  He wished he could be there to wipe the tears he knew were falling down your face. “It’s not goodbye, never goodbye, okay? We’ll be talking again before you know it.” 

“I know,” you were audibly sniffling at this point. “It’s mostly happy tears, I swear. Just.. j-just promise me that you won’t disappear on me? That you’ll be back?”

Now it was Bucky’s turn to fight back tears. “I promise, we’ll talk again, real soon.”

“I’m gonna hold you to that mister.” He could hear your happy leaking through your words.

“That’s my girl.” He smiled, picturing your face. “Later, Doll.”

“Talk to you soon, Bucky.” 

And just like that he felt the connection end, but not sever though. There was still this feeling, a pull that didn’t go away when their conversation ended. He put his hand over his heart, closing his eyes and taking a moment to embrace the feeling, knowing somehow that somewhere out there you were doing the same thing. 

Another incoming text from Sam had him scrambling for the door. He was definitely in for a Captain America sized lecture for his lateness and undoubtedly a giant Sam sized ‘I TOLD YOU SO’ when he explained exactly what or rather who had made him so late.

Part 5

[francoiserenaldt]

the emancipation of dizzy

desirée ashton is tired of being tired and the pills don’t hit like they used to. happy @it-lives-week. 

word count: around 3k warnings: some ableist language, cruelty, destructive coping mechanisms, lots of parentheses in here, negative thoughts, references to depression, strong language, there are sweet moments but a lot happens before then

“No.”

The word leaves her in a shout, crippling her as the nicks and scratches that litter her aching body give way to immeasurable pain.

But it’s not the wounds that hurt her most.

“No, no, no, no, no…”

She vaguely hears it behind her as she holds her brother in her arms for the last time.

Or so she thinks.

None of this makes any sense, she thinks.

Nothing she sees is real. None of this is real.

(Not when she puts Devon’s arm around her neck and drags him out of the cave to a stretcher, not when Noah tells them how unbelievably sorry he is for everything, and especially not when his body is found covered in blood 3 hours later.)

That night was a mistake; a terrible, terrible dream. Devon will be in his room when she inevitably has to go wake him up and Andy’s leg is fine and N–

No.

She refuses to think of him.

He fucked off and gave himself to the Power that night, effectively ending his life. She knows she should be thankful; after all, she knows herself enough to know that he wouldn’t stand a chance if he stayed in town after what he’d done. But the thought that he’d never truly get what had been coming to him, the thought that he’d gotten away with it, infuriated her.

Maybe he wouldn’t get what was coming to him, but it’s not too late to get the revenge she’d been itching for.

Jocelyn had been reduced to a sad sack of bones after she lost vision in her right eye and function in both legs and Cody–

There was no need to rehash that; he wouldn’t be a problem.

Unfortunately, Britney is still around; even more so now that Lily gave her another chance. She’s been making her idea of an effort, forcing a Joker-esque smile on her face any time Lily drags her over to the group and gritting out a compliment when she sees Ava’s new piercing or Stacy’s new shoes for the past two weeks.

It’s not enough.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt my feelings if you just went back to ignoring or insulting us like you usually do,” Desirée smirks, shutting her locker. “It’s obvious you don’t want to be here.”

And we don’t want you here goes unsaid for Lily’s sake.

“Yeah, Britney,” Stacy chimes in. “Don’t hold back on our accounts.”

“Guys, please,” Lily pleads, glancing between the girls. “Can’t we just be civil for once?”

“Sure, I’ll go first.” Ava huffs, pursing her lips. “When’s the last time you put someone in a garbage bin?”

“I’ve never done that, you–” Britney pauses, taking a breath. “Ava.”

“Oh shit, you’re right. You had Jocelyn and Cody do it for you. How is Jocelyn, by the way?”

“You can’t even be nice for two minutes, can you?” Lily scoffs. “Unbelievable.”

Once Lily stomps out of sight, Britney rolls her eyes and whirls on the remaining girls. “The only reason I’m even letting myself be seen with you losers is for Lily’s sake, alright? So you need to get over whatever little beef you have with me.”

“Little beef?” Desirée spits, glaring venomously. “You’ve tormented Lily, Devon, and Ava for years.”

“And you blackmailed Stacy, which is a felony, by the way,” Ava adds, crossing her arms. “You’re lucky the Green’s haven’t sued your bitch ass.”

“You have no idea how extremely lucky you are that I care about Lily–”

“No, you’re lucky we care about Lily. It’s the only thing that’s keeping you from getting jumped.” Stacy snaps.

“Since you care about her so much, you should probably try showing a little restraint.”

“The fact that I’m not wearing you like a shoe right now is me showing restraint.” Desirée retorts before smiling innocently. “But if you really want me to drop the act, that can be arranged.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” Desirée quips, crossing her arms. “No, seriously. Leave.”

With yet another eye roll, she finally struts away.

“While I don’t disagree with you—like in any shape or form—saying what you said, you kinda threatened her. In public.” 

“Yeah, it would be a really bad look if you hit her, Dizzy.”

“Well, I didn’t, okay?” Desirée snaps, grabbing the last of her things. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

She stomps off without another word, just missing the concerned looks Ava and Stacy send her way as she goes.

“Desirée, wait up!”

Devon jogs up to her. Or tries to, anyway. She never stopped walking.

“Hey, do you mind chilling the fuck out?” Devon admonishes, stepping in front of her. “Lily is really upset.”

“I do, actually.” She sneers. “She’s always around, making these snide fucking remarks, and I wanted her out of my face.”

“And you think being a dick to her is the answer? ‘Cause it’s not.”

“Then what is the answer, Devon? Aren’t you tired of letting yourself get pummeled day in and day out by Britney’s goon squad for all for Lily to go running back to her in the end?” She growls. “Aren’t you tired of being everyone’s little bitch?”

His eyes harden just as hers soften. “Fuck you.”

“I didn’t mean that–”

“Yes, you did. You’re just the only one who’s enough of an asshole to say it to my face.” Devon turns to walk away. “You’re acting just like her, you know.”

“Don’t pull that shit on me, Devon. I’m not doing anything that she doesn’t deserve.”

He bites back a reply before sighing. “Getting revenge isn’t going to make you happy.”

“Our lives are permanently fucked, Devon. Nothing is going to make me happy.” She forces a smile onto her lips. “At least this way I get something out of this nightmare.”

“How long do you think that’s going to last?”

“Until she’s gone.”

Doing away with Britney is the easy part; the bitch is entirely too sloppy with her misdeeds and Stacy knows her pass code like the back of her hand. A mass text from an unknown number full of screenshots does her in and the family moves to the next town over within the month.

(She could always count on Stacy to have her back, especially when it came to Britney.)

Seeing the tears in Lily’s eyes and the disappointment in Lucas and Devon’s faces as Desirée watches Britney walk out of Westchester High for the last time makes it infinitely harder to keep the smirk on her face.

Hard, but not impossible.

(The high inevitably wears off and her friends won’t stop looking at her like she’s some kind of monster, but Britney is gone and that’s all that matters.)

(Until it isn’t.)

Two weeks pass before Lily speaks to her again.

“Do you regret it?” She whispers.

“I regret hurting you,” Desirée whispers back. It’s the closest thing to an apology she can muster.

It’s not enough.

“I wish you were sorry.” Lily loses the whisper then and there, glaring.

“I wish you understood where I was coming from.”

“Why aren’t you sorry?”

“Because I hate her, Lily.” Desirée snaps. She’s had to say this too many times. “And she treats you and Devon like complete and utter shit and I’m tired of you sitting back and letting her do it.”

“So you made her leave.”

“So I made her leave.”

Lily scoffs and turns away.

“I did it for you, Lily,” Desirée whispers. “Everything that I’ve done has been for you.”

“You have no idea how much I want to believe that.”

Devon returns and the conversation is over as quickly as it began.

No.

She feels the word creep up her spine and lodge itself into her throat before she hears it fall into a loop in her head, spiraling quickly out of control.

(She’s lost control again. What a surprise.)

She shakes the empty pill bottle until it flies from her shaking hand to her bed.

Her phone is in her hand within seconds and her fingers fly across the screen. Her vision blurs with unshed frustrated tears but she taps away relentlessly—desperately—until the solution she needs pops up and she can finally stop acting like her life is falling apart.

“Hello?”

Shit.

“Hey,” she replies, trying desperately not to sound like she’s on the verge of tears and failing miserably.

(All she seems to do is fail these days.)

“What happened, Desirée? Are you okay?”

The concern in his voice breaks her resolve and she lets a few tears fall, sniffling.

“Okay. Stupid question.” He shuffles around, then curses. Even in her chaos, she finds it in her to wince. “What can I do to help?”

“I don’t know if you can. Help me. I don’t know why I called you.” She murmurs, running a hand over her face. “I don’t know about much of anything anymore.”

“There has to be something I can do,” Andy mutters quietly, probably to himself. “Hey, what if I stayed on the phone with you? Just until you can sleep.”

The painful—and frankly embarrassing—reminder that it is two in the morning is more than enough to calm her hysterics. “Oh, um…that would be great. And extremely nice of you, which I’m not sure I deserve considering–”

“Nope. None of that.”

“Okay,” she sighs, effectively ridding herself of her wobbly voice. “I gratefully and humbly accept your help, your Majesty.”

His laugh is probably—no, definitely—the best sound in the world and for the half hour it takes for her to find peace, she gets to hear it over and over again. The magic of him dissipates the anxiety that had lodged itself into her chest and for a moment—and not a second longer—she seems to float.

Then she wakes up.

Her phone is dead, naturally, so she goes up to the corner store. Common sense tells her that Devon won’t let her walk to the store without insisting on getting Lucas to drive them.

You know he means well. Why aren’t you letting him help you?

“No.” She smiles at the cashier manning the register. “Thank you, though.”

She learns that faking a smile becomes easy once you spend enough time doing it. Enough time has passed that no one questions it and those who can see through it don’t have the heart to draw attention to you.

The silence is almost peaceful.

You’re not letting him help you because you know you don’t deserve it.

(Until it isn’t.)

Her earlier turbulent and destructive thoughts were good for one thing; they distracted from the whispers and stares that followed her every move. She doesn’t bother listening to what they’re saying at this point—it can’t be anything the mayor or her parents or Cid haven’t told her—but they come from everyone; even the teachers mutter when she lingers too long on a test question or takes a little longer to answer a question.

(“It’s not like her to take so long.”)

The comments should make her angry. They should make her want to cover up her abnormal habits or threaten to have their jobs if they don’t mind their own fucking business.

But there’s nothing. Nothing they say matters. Nothing anyone says or does matters.

She eventually stops speaking to people. Anything urgent will be said to her directly and repeatedly, like a newborn puppy that’s just learning commands.

(“Please call Mom and Dad, Dizzy. They’re worried about you.”)

(“Please talk to me, Rée. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”)

(“Desirée, please pick up the phone.”)

For people who’ve known her all their lives, they’re terrible at taking hints.

Her own brother has given up on getting her to have dinner with him consistently; he just goes to Lucas’s house when he wants company.

Lucas, of all people, has become more approachable than her.

Why would Devon want to spend time with you? Why would anyone after the way you acted?

Her mind—for its many, many faults—is the only thing that hasn’t left her. It buzzes about incessantly, asking questions it has no answers to. This time, she doesn’t wait to answer them.

You told him that he was the world’s punching bag, that he was weak. At least he didn’t turn out anything like you. You have enough weaknesses to fill an encyclopedia.

Devon may be a little bitch, but he’s a little bitch with a boyfriend who hasn’t given up on him. Can you say the same?

No, the voice prattles on gleefully. Of course not. Andy’s already got pain in his legs; he doesn’t need a pain in the ass on top of that.

What’s the point?

Why bother picking up the phone? It’s not like anyone is calling her, or anyone would pick up the phone.

Why bother going downstairs for dinner? She’s just going to be eating it alone.

Why even bother leaving her room? No one wants to see her and, for once in her life, she doesn’t want to be seen.

So she’s content to stay right where she is. She can’t hurt anyone but herself here.

The universe, naturally, has other plans.

One day, Devon throws open her bedroom door. “Get dressed.”

“What the hell are you doing in my room? Get out!”

“Yeah, not happening. If you’re not done in 20 minutes, I’m dragging your ass out of bed myself.”

“As if you could pick me in the first place. Please fuck off.”

“Maybe not by myself. I’m sure Lucas and Dan would be happy to help, though.” He smirks as he turns away. As he goes, he sings, “20 minutes.”

Ughhhhhhh.

In her annoyance, she had failed to realize that all of her friends had been invited to the house.

He said that Lucas and Dan were here earlier, idiot.

“Hey, stranger,” Ava drawled when Desirée appeared at the banister. She was sprawled across a sofa by the coffee table, which she was promptly shoved off of once the words passed her lips.

“Seriously, Ava?” Stacy hisses before turning to face Desirée. “It’s good to see you again.”

It’s at this moment that she realizes that she dropped off the face of the Earth and stopped talking to her friends without an explanation.

You’re actually the worst friend ever. Why do they even bother with you?

“Hey, guys,” she says, looking at everyone. They all seem to be happy—relieved, probably—to see her, but something about the situation feels…off. “What’re you all doing here?”

“I thought we could have a game night,” Devon smiles (carefully? hesitantly?) at her as he gestures to the setup. He’s got just about every board game they’ve ever had on the table, from Candyland to Cards Against Humanity. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all done something together.”

All because you decided to be antisocial and moody.

“Right.” She swallows. “So what’s first?”

The afternoon passes easily. She’s far too wrapped up in the ecstasy of being around her best friends to think about anything other than kicking their asses in board games, let alone–

No. We’re having fun.

At least they were until Lily walked over to her after a particularly successful round of Cards Against Humanity.

(She doesn’t need to ask if they can talk in the kitchen, which just so happens to be tucked away from the living room where everyone sits.)

(Desirée doesn’t need to ask her if they’re speaking again now or if Lily plans on this being the last time they speak.)

Lily taps Desirée on the shoulder and they find the corner of the kitchen furthest from the living room.

“I forgive you,” Lily says once they’re alone.

“I’m not sorry,” Desirée warns. Lily can’t hate her any more than she already does; there’s no use being backward about how she feels.

“I don’t care.” Lily steps forward and before Desirée knows it, they’re hugging. “I’m not losing you over a girl.”

“Wait, wait…you’re not mad anymore?”

“I was being unfair,” Lily says, letting a hand come up to rub her bicep. “On a lot of fronts.”

In the spirit of not ruining her good mood by unpacking her behavior, Desirée opts for humor: “I was being a total bitch myself, so I’ll forgive you. Just this once.”

“Do I get another pass if you get first dibs on the unicorn plushie?”

“Maybe,” she smiles genuinely for once and tugs Lily back into a hug. “Now come back. I missed you.”

“Not as much as I missed you.” Lily replies, hugging her even tighter. “Now let’s go before someone tells Andy that he’s out a girlfriend.”

It’s easy to forget how good of a friend Lily is when she’s not simping over Britney.

Desirée slings an arm around Lily’s shoulders as they leave the kitchen. “You’re ridiculous, Lil.”

Devon raises an eyebrow when they walk back to the group. “Are we all good?”

“Yeah, we’re good,” Lily grins.

Yeah, we are good. Until you fuck it up again.

Eventually they leave (everyone leaves) and Devon sits next to her once they finish cleaning up the games.

“This is the first time you’ve come out of your room in–”

“Three weeks, Devon. I know.” She sighs and walks over to the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

“No, wait,” Devon rushes, grabbing her hand. “Just be still and shut up for a second. I need to say this.”

“Fine.” She walks back over to him, albeit a bit petulantly.

“Remember how I was when Noah,” he pauses carefully and continues when he doesn’t see her flinch, “first came back to school and he said all that stuff about how Jane was gone because I didn’t blow the whistle? And how I completely shut down? You told me that you’d never thought you’d see the day where I’d stop talking to you completely and I couldn’t make sense of it. I guess this is what it must’ve felt like.”

“You’ve been angry, you’ve been really fucking jumpy, and now you’ve completely shut me out for three weeks, Desiree. I haven’t been away from you for that long since, like, the womb. So I guess what I’m saying is,” he pauses again and sighs. “You’ve never given up on me, even when I was being a self-pitying asshole who would have deserved it. So you take all the time you need because I’m never, ever giving up on you.”

“Does this mean that you’re gonna drag me out of bed every day?”

“No, it means that I’m gonna to let you stay in this slump you’re in. That being said, I’m probably going to drag you to the dinner table. Eating alone sucks.”

“Eating alone has been rough,” she agrees.

“So you understand?”

“Yeah…yeah, I understand. I’ll try to be better.”

“That’s all I can ask from you.”

He steps closer and she puts a hand up. “Oh my God, do not hug me, you dork. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise. And Devon,” Desiree frowns. “You wouldn’t have deserved to be given up on. No one does.”

He nods once and they head up the stairs together.

She finds herself back in her therapist’s office a month later, fielding the usual questions.

“Have you spent an entire day in your room this week?”

“No. I haven’t been back there in about a month now.”

Okay, it’s really been more like three and a half weeks, but semantics. It’s not like she’s the only one who lies to her therapist.

Dr. Chamberlain smiles gently. “That’s good.”

“It was hard, but I’ve learned not to hate him.” She clears her throat. “Noah, that is.”

“Could you forgive him one day?”

“Every day I look at the people I care about and I see how they’re still affected by the things he’s done. I don’t–” She pauses. “I don’t know if I could ever forgive him.”

“Every step in the right direction is a good step, Desirée.”

It’s far from the first time that her therapist has said those words and she knows it most certainly won’t be the last.

“Desirée?”

“Oh, sorry.” Desirée sits up. “What were you saying?”

“I was saying that it’s been a crazy few months for you, but you’ve come such a long way.”

“What if it’s not enough? I did a lot of things I can’t come back from, Dr.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Dr. Chamberlain glances at her watch and sighs. “We’re just about out of time.”

“Thank you so much. I’ll see you next week.”

“One more thing, Desirée?”

“Yes?”

“Give your friends more credit.”

Desirée nods as she closes the door.

Her phone rings.

“Desirée, thank God! Can you please tell this man that studying is a portmanteau of “student dying” for a reason?”

“I’m probably the worst person you could’ve called for this.”

Devon groans. “Ugh, I forgot how much of a nerd you were.”

She hears a throat clear itself on the other end.

“Right. Lucas wanted to know if you were down to form a study group for finals. I completely understand if you’d rather swallow nails one by one or whatever weirdly specific torture you’re into–”

“If I say yes, does that mean you’ll stop talking?”

“…for now.”

“Deal. I’ll be there in 20.”

She ends the call and sends him a text.

desirée: you don’t have to tell me that I’m the best, or that you’ll actually buy me food the next time you go out. I just know you’ll do it bc you love me so much.

devon: …i really don’t like you, you know that?

desirée: sure, and I know you’re lying your ass off <3 see you at home.

[agent-cupcake]

Beastie and the Bard

Fire Emblem Three Houses - Dimitri x Reader (Chapter 4)

Back due to unpopular demand: My horrible self insert fic! All three of these sections were unintended and unplanned, but here they are nonetheless as a three-part entr’acte to my symphony. 

Anyway, no this isn’t just a flashback chapter. The other two parts have Dimitri. In fact, feel free to skip the first part, I don’t know why I wrote it. I don’t know why I’m doing any of this, it’s clearly not working out for me. Please enjoy <3

Entr'acte I

Two years ago

It was late afternoon when you left the administrative offices of your father’s consultant in Fhirdiad. Two days previous, you and your mother had made the journey north to the capital city for your father’s funeral, and today the scribe in charge of his books had invited you in to explain the details of your inheritance. Reaping the benefits of his death barely a week off from the tragic bandit attack that had caused his demise. 

All of it was yours. You, Baron Terrell’s sole Crest-bearing child. The mansion you’d spent the last nine years locked within, the city residence in Fhirdiad, the iron mine that had gotten him a title, and, of course, said fortune. The consultant said that - by noble standards - it was a meager sum, but to you, it was more money than you could even imagine. You should have been happy, right? Or at least caught in the throes of grief for the loss of your father.  

But you weren’t. Decisions needed to be made, choices that you had spent your entire life being denied. Once, you would have thought you’d rejoice at the prospect, but now you felt something crippling and cold.

Mother hadn’t come along. She had barely spoken a word since the news had arrived and popped the bubble of a world the two of you shared. Her absence left you alone in the labyrinthine heart of Faerghus, surrounded by people and given a freedom the girl of your youth could only ever dream of, yet utterly and entirely alone. The world outside of the mansion’s familiar walls was loud and busy and chaotic and, despite the large crowds, utterly isolating. Too many people crammed into a single place. An odd phenomenon. The poet in you wanted to explore the idea further, but it was drowned out by the hollow ache in your chest.

As you descended the steps, you cast your eyes upwards. The promise of rain clung to the chilly air, although it had yet to condense into anything other than an oppressive slate gray block covering the sky. If the sun refused to shine, you would have at least preferred the rain. That would be poetic. Better than this, at least.

Pulling your cloak close to stave off the cold, you hurried out into the busy street. Your father’s coachman greeted you promptly, the horse and carriage waiting at the curb. His name was Walt, a man employed by your father for many years. Now under your employ, as strange as the idea was.

“My apologies, mistress,” Walt told you quickly. “She would not be reasoned with, I tried to tell her you weren’t in any state to entertain, but…”

Your confusion about what he was saying melted when you realized there was someone waiting by the coach’s door. A woman dressed in practical pauper clothes, her hair tied in a scarf and a patched cloak pulled tight.

“Who is that?” you asked Walt. The woman had seen you, her dark eyes sizing you up with a discomforting hardness.

“She is Lord Terrell’s… Niece,” Walt said uncomfortably.

“He didn’t have any siblings,” you said, confused. That certainly would have come up in the will. Walt only looked more uncomfortable.

“No, not that kind. She is… Your half-sister.” 

Your half-sister? That puzzled you for a long moment until you realized. The woman looking at you like a swordsman appraising his rival was your father’s illegitimate daughter. 

“I believe her name is Loren, but she would not make her intentions clear or disperse when asked. Shall I fetch the city guards, mistress?”

 “You,” Loren called before you could think of an answer, her voice cutting through the noisy streets. Nobody paused or looked up upon hearing her shout, simply parting around the three of you like the unstoppable flow of water crashing through a river. “You’re Terrell’s daughter?”

“I am,” you replied, too flustered to think of another response.

“I want to speak to you.”

“I’m afraid that is simply not possible,” Walt told her, taking a half step in front of you protectively. “In fact, I must ask you to-”

“Walt,” you interrupted him, setting a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ll talk to her.”

He looked uncomfortable with the idea, skeptical of the woman, but didn’t argue as he stepped aside. “As you wish, mistress.”

“Would you like a accompany me on my way back?” you asked Loren, taking a few steps closer to her so you didn’t have to shout. “Walt could drop you off wherever you need to go.”

Loren didn’t answer at first, not letting up with her hard look, but eventually, she nodded curtly, “Fine.” With that, she turned opened the door to the carriage, not waiting for permission. Walt’s lips were puckered and white, but he said nothing other than helping you into the carriage after her. You slid into the seat opposite Loren.

“Take me to Orlabar Ward,” she told Walt before he shut the door. Was that a place in Fhirdiad? You’d never heard of it. Then again, you had only been here once in your life before now. Walt ignored the order, looking to you.

“Yes, that’s fine, Walt. After that, we’ll go home.”

“Of course, mistress.” He hesitated, shooting Loren another distrustful look. “I should remind you that the goddess does not look fondly upon those who lash out against their own flesh and blood. And, might I add, neither does the law.”

“Threatening me?” Loren asked.

“Yes,” Walt said.

“Walt, please, that’s enough,” you told him.

“Yes, of course, mistress,” he said, bowing his head politely before shutting the door. You didn’t begrudge his nerves. Your stomach was thick with them, but you felt curiosity as well. As far as you had ever known, you had no family. Just your mother and father and you. But here she was, your half-sister. If you had paused to think about the implications of that, it might have left you spiraling, but you didn’t.

Through the grayish light that came in through the windows, you had a better look at Loren. She had a severe face, highlighted by the way she’d tied her hair back in the practical scarf. Life had been unkind to her, aging her faster, but you figured she must have been in her late twenties. Despite all that, there was something beautiful about her dark eyes and hair, about the scattering of freckles that littered the bridge of her nose from the passing season of the sun’s kiss. Was there a resemblance between the two of you? Or did you only wish for one right then, your eyes lingering on her nose and browline in the hopes of seeing something familiar?

“So the old man is dead,” she said bluntly to break the silence as the carriage got to rolling down the street. Her expression was carefully controlled, not giving anything away. You blinked at the brutish words, so stark when contrasted against the delicate way everybody else spoke of death.

“He is,” you said after a moment.

Loren continued watching you, her gaze unwavering. You couldn’t tell what emotion that look spoke of, or if she was simply studying you. Time stretched on, the landscape outside the window rolling by until you finally snapped. You never were one much for the quiet. “Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?” you asked, a hint of exasperation in your tone, nerves making it shrill.

Loren didn’t respond right away, nor did she break the intensity of her stare.

“I thought I would know what to say when I met you. I’ve had years to think about it, you know. Years to let my feelings simmer and brew. But now that you’re right in front of me, I realize that there’s nothing to say,” Loren told you. She spoke honestly, with a voice deadened by a lack of passion. Her dark eyes were steady, her tone without any heated animosity or aggression, as if telling you an empirical fact. “I hate you, but you didn’t even know I existed, did you? Of course not. Terrell gave you the perfect life, all the while disowning and ignoring the rest of us. All except you. Cast us out like trash because we didn’t have a Crest. And I hate you for it.”

A heavy breath left your lips, collapsing your chest as if she’d physically attacked you. “I… I don’t think I understand,” you said softly, your voice a far away sound through the ringing in your ears.

Loren didn’t seem inclined to clarify, continuing on. “I watched as you and your whore mother got everything that I wished so desperately for. Me and my siblings starved while you lived in luxury. My own mother is dead, you know. She died giving birth to another one of Terrell’s bastards. Her natural father had a Crest, leaving her to rot for being illegitimate, but that meant it was in her blood already. Terrell was smart, he knew how to find woman with the proper lineage. He promised her that he would give her the life she deserved, so she kept having his babies in the hopes a Crest would manifest and we could all be happy. She died for that.”

“I’m sorry,” you said when she left a silence, but the words were weak.

“You’re sorry? That’s it?” Loren demanded in her detached way. “Can you bring her back to me? Can you erase a childhood full of starvation and misery? Can you bring back my siblings who fell ill and died, neglected by a father who could easily afford treatment but didn’t because they didn’t have a Crest?”

Cold had sunken down into your very bones. Your hands trembled as the fingers bunched in the fine black fabric of your mourning dress. Loren’s dark eyes were no longer as dispassionate, pinning all of the blame and hatred of an unhappy life on you.

“You know I can’t,” you said.

“Then you are just as useless as he was,” Loren told you, condemned you.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you said, blinking desperately. “I’m sorry that I didn’t know, a-and that a great injustice was done to you, I understand-”

“Oh? You think you understand what injustice I’ve suffered? What misery my life has been because I was unlucky enough to have been born Crestless?” Loren’s anger flared now, hot and riotous in her eyes. Now you saw the hated, pure and undiluted.

“No... No.” You shook your head, throat swollen. “I don’t, I know I don’t, and I’m sorry. But I can give you whatever you want, whatever you need-”

“Renounce the entire inheritance to those who deserve it,” Loren said, her voice clipped and assured. “Take your whore mother and live on the streets as a destitute pauper.”

You choked at the outright cruelty of that demand. “I… I can’t do that."

Loren regarded you with a flat look, her anger having died out somewhat. Hers was the face of a woman who had lived far longer than the years she’d seen, a woman who lived with the dead in her heart and the ones left behind.  

“I really had no idea that my father did this, please believe me. There must be something I can do for you, to help you...”

“Admit it,” she said, her voice returning to a moderated tone. “That’s not your sympathy speaking. That’s your need for an easy way to ease your own guilty conscience.” Loren waited for an argument, but you didn’t give it. “No matter what you do for me or mine, the dead who loathe you will leave you cursed and wretched. I have no intention of easing that burden.”

“But we’re family, aren’t we? Please, I can help you, so-”

“Family?” Loren snorted, as if the very idea was a joke. “Your only family is a dead egoistical rat and that whore you call a mother.” She paused, her head tilting. “I heard she’s gone crazy, too. It’s what she deserves, I hope she hears the screaming of all those she’s stepped on in order to have this frivolous life of hers.”

“She’s not crazy, or a… A whore. She loved him, and she had no idea that he had other children,” you told her through the ringing of your ears. A dizzying shade of red-edged your vision, making your head feel dizzy with the sway of the carriage. “You can speak ill of him, but she is innocent.”

“Innocent? You can’t possibly be naive enough to believe that’s true,” Loren said. You didn’t say anything, because it was true. It had to be. Your mother was many things, but you couldn’t believe she’d allow the suffering of others.

Some part of you whispered that she had allowed your suffering for years and years, but you ignored it.

“By the goddess’ holy tit, you’re just as cracked your mother.” Just then, the carriage pulled to a lurching stop. The cobblestone streets here were uneven. Loren cast a glance out the window. This area of Fhirdiad was filthy. Even with the expensive layer of glass separating you from the outside, you could smell the oppressive odor of unwashed bodies and waste. Loren quickly moved to the door facing the street, moving to open the opposite door that Walt would.

“I’m sorry, please, I want to make this right,” you said, your fingers glancing against her arm as she passed. Loren stiffened, looking back at you a final time.

“Then burn.”

With that, she left. A second after her door slammed shut, the other opened, Walt peering in with a look of concern.

“Mistress, are you all right?” he asked. Whatever he saw on your face made his expression tighten with anger. “Did she harm you?”

“No,” you said, shaking your head forcefully. “I’m fine. I would like to go home now, please.”

“Did she blackmail you in any way, or ask for something? Her kind... Always looking to get money without having to work for it...” He shook his head, anger clear in his aged features.

“She didn’t want anything,” you said. That wasn’t true, though. She wanted to hurt you like she had been hurt. 

“Oh… Very well, mistress. We shall return, then.” Walt paused, as if wanting to say more, but he didn’t. He closed the door, shutting you back into solitary silence. A place you’d always been.  And you cried. You hated yourself for it, for each streaky tear that stained your mourning dress and for each ugly sob you couldn’t contain. You hadn’t cried much at the funeral, or when you heard of your father’s passing. You hadn’t mourned because you didn’t know how, but now you knew. This was loss. You didn’t know what you were losing, but you felt it ripped away from your soul as clearly as you would feel a knife break skin.

Entr'acte II

A book laid open in front of you, the pages cluttered with interesting words and fascinating illustrations, the very reason you had come to study at Garreg Mach. The classroom was quiet, save for Professor Byleth’s lowered voice on the other side of the room and the occasional flip of a page or scratch of quill on paper.

You wanted to be happy that you were all given the chance to move on, to forge a path forward in spite of all the strife you had encountered. And, by all accounts, it should have been the perfect atmosphere for your independent study of pegasi in order to ace your exam. But you weren’t, and it wasn’t. The silence, as ever, was something stiff and uncomfortable. Even here in Garreg Mach, it was something you feared.

Conand Tower’s brutal battle had taken place nearly a fortnight ago, but your memory of the cacophonous final aria was crisp and clear. Miklan’s screams of pure agony, the cataclysmic crashing of thunder, and that bestial roar that had bounced from wall to wall as his body was overtaken by the hulking form of a monster. Even here, even in your own arcadia, death followed.

And, as if that weren’t bad enough, Miklan wasn’t just a rogue bandit causing trouble. He had been Sylvain’s estranged older brother, cast out from succession because he lacked a Crest. Something about that hit far too close to home, but you dared not think of why. Even within your own turmoil, there were certain things you had to be spared if you wished to go on. Miklan was another death close to those you held dear, one more ghost to haunt the living. It was hard to not see that as a bad omen. How far could death’s creeping touch get before stealing away the ones you cared about the most? Already you feared its indirect touch, a deep-set terror when you remembered Dimitri’s question in Magdred Way.

His blue eyes had plead so desperately with you for an answer when he asked about the ones left behind. Pleading for an answer the both of you knew you didn’t have. You didn’t know. You had never been able to help the ones left behind.

Closing your eyes to that sinking feeling, you shook your head, trying to reason with your thoughts. This was different. Miklan wasn’t a good person. Sylvain was seemingly lackadaisical about the entire thing, but from his limited accounts, that much was clear to you. He was a cruel man. Sylvain hurt, but he would be fine without him. He could move on from this. Ashe was recovering, too. Professor Byleth helped with that even if you couldn’t, but you didn’t dwell on your own uselessness. Everyone would be okay, and that was what mattered.

Plus, everyone was feeling better after saving Flayn and Professor Manuela from the Death Knight. For all of the horrors of that ordeal, the happy ending made it easier to bear. Not that it was so easy to shrug off the memory of the Flame Emperor, or his strangely modulated voice, but life had to continue on as normal, didn’t it? At least on the surface. And, as you tried to tell yourself, that was a good thing. You were glad for it.

Class was called, and every member of the Blue Lions house - including the newest addition of Flayn - was in attendance. Professor Byleth stood on the other side of the room, working with Mercedes, Annette, and Flayn on more advanced magic. The rest of you were meant to be working on independent study. Ignoring the things you could not change as normalcy fought to return in place. Everyone was getting ready for the Battle of the Eagle and Lion next month, which would hopefully be your first real fight on the back of your pegasus Siobhan. Hopefully.

If only your thoughts were so distracted.

Instead, your eyes wandered upwards, to where Dimitri sat ahead of you. He and Sylvain shared a table, and since Dimitri sat on the far end you could vaguely see his face. He was, of course, utterly concentrated on the book in front of him. Dimitri had been hard to find lately, leaving you to your own devices when the haunting silence and unhappy thoughts drove you from your bed. There were new dangers that sparked new curfews, but you had learned a few sneaky tricks all those years back when your father more frequently stayed in the mansion. Not that it mattered when you couldn’t find Dimitri anyway.

When you asked about it, Dimitri had been evasive in answering. Studying, he said. You didn’t dare pry - everyone had the right to their secrets after all - but you would have been lying if you said it didn’t hurt. You weren’t entitled to the time the two of you spent nocturnally training. Obviously not. It was selfish of you to even feel that way. And yet-

“Melodies of Faerghus Opera Omnia,” Sylvain muttered, his voice mostly lowered in a sign of deference to the hushed atmosphere of the classroom, pulling you from your thoughts. He had turned to sit backward in his chair in front of you and pulled out one of the thicker volumes from your stack, finally gotten tired of the tedium of silent study. “That sounds interesting.”

“Hey!” you said in something approaching a stage-whisper, snapping to attention and reaching out for your book. He held it just out of reach, flipping through the pages. It was a new volume, one you were quite proud of having gotten your hands on. It had taken no less than a dozen book merchants to even recognize the volume’s name, let alone be able to find you a copy. Melodies of Faerghus was penned by a scholar musician compiling all non-religious music she found across the country, one of the most comprehensive of its kind. Realizing you’d drawn attention from those around you, you lowered your voice and forced yourself to relax. Sylvain, at least, had an appreciation for lyric and verse as you did. Still, you felt protective over the volume. “Please, be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” Sylvain said, earning a soft snort from Ingrid sitting beside you, although she didn’t look up. “What is this anyway?” Sylvain asked.

You cast a shy glance to Ingrid and Dimitri. Everyone knew of your affinity for music, but that didn’t mean any of them appreciated it. The arts weren’t very popular among most knights, a fact you had come to realize the hard way.

“It’s a compilation of songs and poetry composed by the people of Faerghus,” you whispered, leaning forward so only he could hear you.

Sylvain looked surprised, hefting the book appraisingly. “I didn’t think there would be so much.”

“I doubt that’s even a fraction of what there actually is, most music and poetry is never put to paper,” you told him. A shame, you thought. What got left behind the most was folk music and lullabies, personal songs composed lovingly out of the silence to entertain the people around them. Even in this book, there wasn’t much of that sort of thing.

“There’s a whole chapter for House Gauteir?” Sylvain asked in amazement, his eyebrows raised.

“Yes, all major houses of Faerghus have one,” you said as you leaned forward to see what page he was on. “Some were written for the families when they were granted patronage, but many stem from the legends.” The legends like the Gautier Holy Relic, the Lance of Ruin. Your face scrunched, that wasn’t a good thought.

“Even House Galatea?” Ingrid suddenly asked. You hadn’t realized she’d been listening until that moment, but found yourself tensing up at her voice. Ingrid was many things, but stealthy was not one of them. Even when she tried to whisper it was jarring.

“Of course,” you responded belatedly, suddenly feeling quite sheepish. Ingrid liked heroic tales just fine, but not anything so feminine and frivolous as music or poetry. Besides, she was a model student, you could feel her displeasure at the distraction.

“You haven’t heard the Rift of House Daphnel?” Sylvain asked her. “Sheesh Ingrid, even I know that one.”

“My apologies for being far too busy being productive,” she said, a bit of ice in her tone. Sylvain was too focused on the book to notice it, though, enthusiastically flipping through the pages.

“Hey, here’s a song about King Lambert,” he said, leaning towards his deskmate. That got Dimitri’s attention, although you realized by his stiff posture that he’d probably been listening the whole time. “It’s about the Invasion of Sreng… Oh.” You didn’t have to look at the page to know which poem he was on. The Conquest of King Lambert was a lengthy piece with lovingly detailed descriptions about the king, including some of the most... Creative metaphors you’d ever read. Sylvain looked, as all men should, equal parts disturbed and impressed at what was written.

“My father had music about him?” Dimitri asked, turning around. His expression wasn’t amused, but he didn’t look like he was going to reprimand any of you. Yet.

“Of course,” you responded.

“He has his own chapter,” Sylvain noted.

“Really?” Dimitri leaned in further.

“Actually…” you said. “Well, it’s a bit funny. King Lambert didn’t entertain court musicians, but that actually wound up making him more desirable.”

“Sounds like more than a few girls I’ve known,” Sylvain responded with a grin.

Ingrid was going to respond, you could feel her preparing the biting comment at your side, but you spoke before she could. “That’s actually a perfect comparison.”

“Wait, really?” Sylvain asked, looking up at you with widened eyes. You couldn’t tell if he was more surprised that you agreed, or that you didn’t take the bait of his joke.

“Well, musicians want attention. Especially when they’ve been rejected. And then…” You paused as you realized just how fitting his metaphor was. “Well, I’ve learned recently that musicians can be a bit like a woman scorned. A particularly catchy song can ruin a man’s reputation, you know.” 

The Kingdom’s regent, Dimitri’s uncle, had more than a few scathing critiques about his conduct floating around. Nothing put to paper, of course, as that would be far too dangerous. Unfortunately, music traveled as fast as rumor did, and it was twice as catchy.

“Sounds like you should be more careful, Sylvain,” Ingrid said. “I wonder what they’d put in a song about you...”

“No doubt they’d sing of his dedication,” Dimitri said. Sylvain looked surprised, beginning to smile before Dimitri continued, “A man solely dedicated to his pursuit of excess.”

“Hey-” Sylvain protested, but Ingrid chimed in before he could defend himself.

“They’d sing of his strict code of honor. Sylvain Jose Gautier: A man without.”

“Now Ingrid, that’s just unfair.” Sylvain turned to you with an overly dramatized hurt expression, closing your book and setting it back on the table. “You don’t agree with them, do you? You’d write a good song about me, right?” He was feigning a look of hurt, but in his eyes, you saw something you hadn’t seen since the whole ugly business with Miklan had begun, something warm. It made you smile.

“I would say that Sylvain is like… A red-hot flicker of flame,” you said, the wheels in your head turning fast.

“Because... I’m warm and inviting? Utterly desirable on a cold winter’s night?” Sylvain asked.

“Because you restlessly jump from place to place, uncontrollably consuming whatever you can and making everyone’s eyes water.”

Ingrid actually laughed, breaking all facade of your hushed conversation. Even Dimitri gave you a little snort of a reaction, one that he quickly stifled when the sounds brought Professor Byleth’s attention, finally, to your little group. He covered his mouth and turned away, although his blue eyes danced with amusement. Byleth’s stern look was quick in making the rest of you return to your assigned tasks with unspoken obedience.

You kind of felt bad for what you had said about Sylvain. It wasn’t that you actually meant it, but it had sounded vaguely clever at the moment. Then again, you couldn’t get it out of your head that his smile had looked real enough, even while being teased. And Dimitri had kind of laughed, too.

Besides, the whole conversation brought to mind an important thought. One day, most of your friends would inherit the stuffy titles of the great men and women from your book. They would have songs aplenty written for them, especially if they did even half as many great things as you imagined they would.

One day, Dimitri would be king and have an entire library composed in his honor.

There was something there. A desire, maybe.

But first, you needed to master flying a pegasus into battle and win the Battle of the Eagle and Lion. Your spirits were decidedly raised as you picked up where you left off.

Entr’acte III

Siobhan, your brilliant pegasus, was soft beneath the brush you used to tend to her shiny coat. You had started with the longer strands around her legs, but now you were working out the fur at the base of her wings. It was a kind of reward for her. She had been entirely instrumental in you becoming a pegasus knight, after all. 

A major success. You felt hollow.

The feeling would pass. The bad feelings always did, you just had to stay busy, keep on doing things. 

The letter in your pocket was heavy. Impossibly heavy.  

“I was wondering where you had gone,” a voice said. Not just any voice, but one you were certain you knew better than any other. Dimitri looked excited to see you, coming to stand beside Siobhan as well. She nuzzled into his hand when he petted her face. He had a way of making the horses and pegasi like him. You could relate.

“Do you need something?” you asked. 

“Only to congratulate you,” Dimitri said. “Professor Byleth allowed me to watch the test, you were quite spectacular. You should be proud of yourself.”

You imagined it said a lot about your mood that his praise didn’t spark up any bubbling butterflies within your stomach or even the slightest bit of heat in your cheeks. “Thank you,” you said, carefully running the brush over Siobhan’s glossy white fur, focusing on the task to avoid looking at him. His gaze still burned into your face, studying you intently.  

“Are you all right?” Dimitri asked.  Your movements stuttered although it was a perfectly natural question.

“I am,” you said. A very poor lie, not that you were much of a liar. The problem was, it shouldn’t have been a lie at all. You had every reason in the world to be happy, didn’t you? 

Dimitri wasn’t fooled, you doubted you could fool anyone. If your intentions were to convince him of your well-being, you were doing a terrible job. If you wanted him to leave you alone, you could have told him. But you did neither, conflicted and unsure of what you wanted.

“I apologize if I’m overstepping, but it doesn’t seem that way to me.” Dimitri hesitated before adding, “I won’t intrude if you don’t wish to tell me, but please know that I’m always willing to listen.”

That brought your attention back to his face, an odd feeling of surprise squeezing your heart. Someone to listen to you. Not your music or stories, but... You. Feeling almost exposed by the offer, you searched his eyes for some indication that he wasn’t being genuine, but all you found was concern. It made your heart stutter.

Bit by bit, your expression fell, your shoulders drooping. Siobhan shook herself off a bit, a bit indignant and antsy. She had already been cleaned up after your test, and the grooms were much better at maintaining her than you were. Brushing her had been a distraction, although it hadn’t worked in the slightest.

“I got a letter from my mother today, right after the test,” you finally said, leaning your forehead against Siobhan’s soft, warm neck, the coarse ends of her mane tickling your cheek.  

“Your mother?” Dimitri asked. He paused, then regretfully added, “I just realized, I don’t know much about your family.”

“I don’t speak of them often,” you said softly, displacing some of Siobhan’s mane.

“Are you estranged?”

Estranged. That suited your situation, didn’t it? At the same time, it wasn’t entirely true. You realized right then that you could tell Dimitri, even if it hurt, even you never told anybody else. You could.

Even worse, you wanted to. The words arranged themselves easily in your head, accompanied by the dread of the unavoidable.

Opening your eyes, you pulled away from Siobhan’s warm body. She looked at you with her gentle brown eyes, so stark against the brilliant white. A war animal, a genuine beauty, but also a soft soul. The both of you knew she’d only endured your brushing because she wanted to help your mood, she was never so patient for the grooms. You patted her head affectionately, then stepped away to leave her to her own devices, looking at Dimitri directly.

“My father is dead,” you said, speaking bluntly out of fear the words wouldn’t come out otherwise. It felt wrong to say, like uttering a particularly dirty swear. Admitting to an unforgivable wrong.

“Oh, I’m… I’m sorry,” Dimitri responded with a frown, his eyes full of sorrow. Pity, maybe, although it wasn’t an emotion you minded from him, even if it was undeserved. “I had no idea.”

You shook your head, trying to wave away the guilt you heard beneath those words. “I don’t really talk about it,” you said quickly, attempting to backtrack the dramatics, to play it off. “Um... Can we sit?” you gestured vaguely towards the back way behind the stables, littered by convenient barrels and boxes. It was a popular place for slackers to hide.

Dimitri looked surprised but he didn’t argue as he followed you. Concealed by the shadows and the noises of the monastery somewhat deadened, you sat heavily on one of the barrels, almost surprised at how worn out your body felt.

“How long ago?” Dimitri asked as he sat beside you. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

“Two years,” you responded, the number coming to you easily. So long ago, yet the memories could feel so fresh sometimes. "My mother, when he died, something in her... I mean, she was never very stable, but after that she was…” You shook your head, the scattered words frustrating you as you tried to explain it. “The physician says that it’s an ailment of the mind. Madness.”

“So the letter…”

“It’s from her physician, updating me on her condition. She said that my mother has begun… Um... Cursing me. She blames me for my father’s death. He died to a troupe of bandits, and I guess hearing that I’m training in the art of combat set something off in her.” You shrugged helplessly, staring hard at the packed dirt of the ground to avert your eyes. Weakness washed through you, the embarrassingly hot weight of tears. You should have stopped talking, you wanted to stop, but you couldn’t. “What I hate the most is feeling angry with her. When I read the letter, I was so mad. I know it’s not her fault, and I know that she’s suffering more than I ever have.” Your voice lowered even further. “And I hate that I’m constantly finding excuses to not visit her, but I can’t go back to that place. I have nightmares of it, you know, even now.”

“That place?” Dimitri asked.

“My father’s mansion, my… Home.” That word was hollow, empty. You shook your head of it, suppressing the shiver that wanted to slither down your spine. “Sorry, I imagine that’s all pretty tiresome to hear about.”

Oddly, speaking had helped you somewhat. Now that all of the words were out, your shoulders felt lighter when you straightened out from your unladylike slump. Speaking had given you a bit of perspective, something you nearly always lacked when trapped within the echo chamber of your own skull.  

"And it’s fine anyway. I won’t give up on her. As long as her heart is beating, I believe that there’s a way to make her better. Even if she scorns me… Or hates me. But I guess that’s why it’s so hard.” You sighed. “I just need to keep going.”

Dimitri didn’t say anything at first, allowing the silence to swell. He looked tense when you peeked over at him, filling you with a rush of anxiety. Had you said too much? Or said something wrong?

“I know a little of madness,” Dimitri told you hesitantly, haltingly. “Admittedly, not much, but… I doubt that she hates you. Grief and pain can twist a person’s mind, but I don’t believe that it’s an expression of their true character.” Earnestness edged by the shadow of exhaustion shone in Dimitri’s eyes when you looked at him. 

He meant what he said, but, more than that, he understood what he was talking about.

Madness induced by grief.  

You thought of Felix and his warning about the so-called ‘Boar Prince’, the title he’d given the dark side of Dimitri when they were putting out rebellions across Faerghus. That had been right after the death of Dimitri’s friends and family. What type of grief must he have been suffering then? You couldn’t even begin to guess.

“Thank you,” you said, wishing to say more but not knowing what.

“What is she like?” Dimitri asked before the silence could stretch too long. 

“She was... She would sing me a lullaby when I was very little. I don’t remember how it sounded anymore, but I remember how I felt when I heard it. It was like magic, setting the world to rights. When she sang, everything bad would just fade away. That’s who my mother is. She made music into magic, she made me believe that there’s a song that could fix anything, help anyone.” You could hardly remember that woman. The one who had loved you, who had sung to you. The one who had been failed first by your father, then by you. “That’s one of the reasons I love music,” you told Dimitri. “To remember her. I don’t want to forget, I feel like if I do…” You didn’t allow yourself to finish that sentiment. Failure. In so many ways, you had already failed her, but to forget altogether was the final blow, how could she come back then?

“I understand,” Dimitri said, keeping you from having to think of an end to that sentence. “It’s only once you forget your loved ones that they’re truly gone. It feels like a betrayal.” He paused, looking down at his boots. “Truthfully, I find it hard to remember my own mother - well, my stepmother, but she raised me as her son, cared for me as if I was her own.” Dimitri’s expression was haunted, the shadows casting his eyes in a hazy dark. “I worry that if I forget her as she truly was, if I can no longer remember her smile and laugh, I’ll have failed her. If I forget everything aside from her sadness, I’ve lost her completely.”

His eyes cleared up, focusing as his attention returned to you.

“Ah, my apologies,” he said, his voice returned to its normal cadence. “I didn’t mean to talk so much.”

“I don’t mind,” you told him. "Truly. I appreciate you listening to me, and if you need someone… I can’t promise any good advice, but I will listen. I’d love to listen to... Whatever you say, really. I’ve spent so much of my life alone, and you… You make me feel like I’m not, so... Don’t be sorry.”

Dimitri looked at you. Something meaningful lingered in his expression, but couldn’t read it well enough to know. It felt like you had said something wrong. It was awkward, right there in your shadowy nook that stank of the stables and musty wood.

“I’m sorry, that was too much, wasn’t it,” you apologized. Dimitri blinked.

“No - don’t be. Just now, I realized that I don’t know nearly as much about you as I thought. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“After I just told you not to be?” you asked. “But I.. I guess I feel the same, you know. You’re quite an enigma, Your Highness.”

“Enigma?” he repeated, regarding the word nearly as well as he had ‘whimsical’ all those months back. The memory made you smile, a real smile. And just like that, any serious threads of the conversation were lost. “Well, I suppose I can rectify that, if you’re interested in a rather amusing story where I nearly ended up as bear bait.”

“You’re lying,” you said. 

Dimitri smiled ruefully. “Unfortunately not. See, it all began when I was called for an impromptu hunting trip-” 

For the first time, the flow of conversation between the two of you was easy and natural, as if some kind of dam had been breached. You swapped stories, some of your youth and some that had happened since your arrival at Garreg Mach. None of them were serious, and that was good. Liberating, even.

By the time either of you realized how late it had gotten, your stomach was growling for a skipped lunch and dinner. Dimitri was apologetic, but you felt happier than you had in a while. Affection, bursting and warm, had replaced the sadness. 

You wished for it to never end. 

[echoes-of-realities]

Hi! I read your rant on why glee was so poorly done (I agree completely). I was wondering if you could explain your connection with the characters (specifically Brittany and Santana)? Why do you care so much about characters from a show you don’t really like or agree with? Or why do you continue to write using them? Just curious!

So first, I debated for a long time about this, but eventually decided to just give the really personal and really long answer partially because this is a situation that has popped up again and partially because being a fic writer is very personal, so my answer is going to be really personal anyways. You can’t spend most of your time writing inside the mind of someone else without leaving a bit of yourself behind.

Second, I’m not explaining this situation to get sympathy or anything. It’s just what I’ve been through and what I’m going through again, but the difference is that this time around I’m in a much better place than I was last time. I’m more comfortable with myself and more settled, I’m not letting myself go into a depressive spiral like last year, and I have much healthier coping methods this time around.

And third, this is kinda a contemplation on my mental health now, so I’m mostly going ahead and posting to remind myself of how far I’ve come and since this is my personal blog and I Can lol

So! More below the cut. If the cut doesn’t work on mobile, as it is wont to do, I’m so sorry, Tumblr is barely functional at the best of times so just scroll really fast lmao.

So I got into Glee right in the middle of a really rough time in my life. Late last November we found out that my little sister—who’s still in high school—had an aggressive tumour in her knee, and none of the doctor’s could figure out exactly what it was. She had a biopsy in December though we didn’t get the results until February since they didn’t know what it was, but it showed it there was like a 0.01% of it being cancerous. When it had been MRI’d in October it was the size of a loonie and aggressively growing, but when they removed it the following March it had shrunk to like the size of a pea. They sent that off for testing but there wasn’t enough of a sample to figure it out but they think it might have been a burned out cancerous tumour. And so they removed it and scraped the bone around it, threw some cement in my sister’s knee, and called it a day. Flash forward to two weeks ago, my sister had a cheek up because it’d been a year since the found out about it, and instead of getting the news that everything was fine we instead found out that whatever the fuck it is—because they still don’t know—is back and is now growing above the cement and in an entirely different spot than the first tumour. So now we’re back to the waiting game to figure out what the fuck is going on in my sister’s knee, since the radiologists are still puzzling over her new MRI from this December.

So long story short, my sister is still a certified medical weirdo and I spent the last bit of November 2017 until about February thinking my 16 year-old sister had bone cancer. Needless to say, I was in a really bad place last year and my concentration was shot all to hell. (If you’ve been following me for a while you might remember me explaining why I don’t read or write Hard Angst? This was the depressive spiral I was talking about. This was what I was dealing with and how I discovered that Angsty fic makes my mental health so much worse.)

So that’s what I was dealing with when I got into Glee read: only Brittana lol and flash back a little bit more and I’ll spare you the details of my Epiphany Moment, but I came out as gay to myself, and then came out to my mom in the end of October, so that was still New and Fresh for me. I wanna say I probably started watching Glee again, read: only Brittana scenes lol probably a week after I found out about my sister’s tumour? It was after that but before my finals that semester started, and I literally couldn’t focus or concentrate on anything—because aside from dealing with that, I also lived 1.5 hours away from my family, so my auntie stayed with my sister and my mom so they could all be there for each other, and just because of circumstance I was alone with my thoughts most of the time.

Then I was looking for something to listen to while studying or working on end of term assignments or whatever and I stumbled upon s5’s Valerie. And okay so I’ve Known about Glee since it came out. I watched the pilot but never really got into it, my friend lent me her box set of s1 and I got as far as Terri admitting to her fake pregnancy and went “yep too far for me”, I remember when Cory died because I’m Canadian and he was our Canadian sweetheart, I even remember when Brittana got married because it was all over tumblr and I was at that stage where “I’m invested in gay successes and characters because my cousin is gay and I support gay people and for No Other Reason” lmao. So like, I Knew about Glee, and I Knew about how, uh, let’s say Particular the fandom was over the years. So I watched s5′s Valerie and thought “hey these characters are really cute together and from my Vague Memories I’m pretty sure they’re the show’s lesbian couple?” And I looked it up, saw they were Childhood Friends (that one (1) canon line be damned) to Lovers, which is probably the trope I’m Weakest for lol, and basically just fell down the rabbit hole.

At the beginning of me getting into Glee, it was basically because I had just come out about a month and a bit prior, and I was going through probably the darkest time in my life, and these two characters were about the only thing that was distracting me from my sister’s tumour so I clung to them. I had stopped writing (omg sorry to anyone who followed me from the b99 childhood neighbours au, I think about it being unfinished Constantly and it Haunts me to this day) from about the time we found out about it in November to when the biopsy results came back in the first week of February and we found out that the chances of it being cancerous were like 0.01%. In that time I had been watching Glee again, read: Brittana scenes only lmao and fell in love with the characters themselves beyond “they were distracting me from hard shit,” and so the day we found out the tumour wasn’t cancerous was the day I sat down and found I could finally write again, and I realized I actually had a story in my head, which resulted in you were the choice I made before I knew what the other choices were. So I wrote that and posted it in February this year and got an overwhelmingly positive response to it, past anything I had ever imagined considering the show had ended like 3 years ago lol. 

So I guess what I’m trying to say with all of this rambling is that the characters came into my life at the exact right time in the exact right way. Santana’s coming out storyline was not the exact same as mine, but I was also pretending to be somebody I wasn’t in high school, I understand how terrifying it is to live in a Small Town and worry about someone finding out, my grandma died earlier in 2017 and responded poorly to my cousin coming out years before, so the s6 scenes were so bittersweet to watch. And I don’t know exactly why I fell in love with Brittany, but her own storyline in s2 when she was learning to stand up for herself is something I Know, her incredible patience and understanding and snark is what I aspire to, and the fact that people are Constantly underestimating her and she’s struggled with being seen as good enough is so familiar. And their relationship is so strong and tender despite the continued thrashings it took and I admire that so much—even if most of my admiration comes from fic depictions and not canon (s6 aside) lmao.

So yeah, as cheesy as it sounds, even though I think Glee did some good but overall handled their responsibility to their narrative and their audience Horribly, Brittana as characters and as a relationship were the only thing distracting me from obsessing and panicking and spiralling over my sister’s tumour, their storylines helped me understand my own coming out process a little better, and, probably the biggest thing for me, was that they were what got me back into writing again. So I’m always going to love them so much because they’re complex and real (even if most of that comes from fanon interpretations), but the reason they mean so much to me is because I fell in love with them when everyone else in my life was shitty and completely out of my control.

[afangirlwashere]

Risk pt.4 (Peter Parker x superhero!reader)

(gif is not mine all credit goes to the creator)

Summary: History class is surely boring but what if (Y/N)’s life turns upside down while sitting in one? What can Peter do about it?

A/N: I thought this was going to be a four-part fic but SEEMS LIKE I WAS WRONG!! This was supposed to be the last part but I was in the middle of it and it was so long and then I added something and if I really wanted to stick with the four-part thing it could have gone to like 8k or more?? The next part is probably gonna be a bit longer I think?? I have a little bit written for the fifth part BUT this week is unbelievably busy in school and the next one is gonna be even crazier so I’m just praying to survive. Of course, I was in the mood to write everything when I had to study so... that’s why the quick updates. Most of both the fics I released recently were already half written quite a long time ago maybe you can tell by the way I write? IDK... I’ll stop rambling now. All likes, reblogs and mainly feedback is very appreciated! 

Warnings: Infinity War spoilers! do we still warn for those? I guess I’ll do it anyway

MASTERLIST

REQUEST LIST 

part 1  part 2  part 3

(while reading this part of the story I recommend you to listen to this song)

“Mr. Stark?” the doors to the lab opened and closed as the young superhero slipped inside.

Tony was buried deep inside his luxurious armchair that was almost two times his size clutching a glass of bourbon.  His gaze was set on the projector which had the words “fin” written on it. He started studying the liquid in his glass not bothering to even look at the girl.

“I just wanted to apologize for earlier. I should’ve been more careful... I know you’re responsible for me and it wasn’t fair from me to throw myself in front of Thanos.” (Y/N) fondled with her sleeve and stepped a little closer “Thank you for giving me another chance Mr. Stark... I appreciate it.”

Tony stayed silent for a bit longer. 

“Peter Parker.” the name rolled off his tongue perfectly as if he has said it a million times before “Sixteen years old... student of the Midtown school of science and technology. Otherwise known as Spider-Man.” 

(Y/N) stopped next to a little coffee table to get a better glance at Tony. 

His face had no emotion whatsoever when he took the little remote control, pushed a button on it and the video played somewhere in the middle. 

There was a boy on the screen now “This is the best thing that could have ever happened to me!” he shouted excitedly “Mr. Stark is amazing! He’s the best!” his face was covered by some kind of a mask but (Y/N) was sure he had the brightest smile on his face. 

Tony stopped the video abruptly. 

“He disintegrated to dust in my arms when Thanos decided to get rid of half of the civilization. Just like that.” he snaps his fingers and takes a big chug of the alcohol. 

(Y/N) swallows loudly. She couldn’t think of anything better to say then “I’m sorry...” and she truly was. 

This Spider-Man, Peter or whatever he called himself seemed like a nice guy. It was a shame he met that fate. 

He was just a kid. 

Just a kid...

Watching Tony torture himself over what happened was heartbreaking even for someone who didn’t know him that well. 

Maybe even more than for the others.

The Tony Stark (Y/N) knew from the media was so Extra, a joke here a joke there, partying, full of sarcastic remarks even in the worst situations he could keep that spark. 

He didn’t have it now. 

(Y/N) never saw Tony Stark like this.  Not on TV, not in the news... 

“Do you know why I’m showing you this?” the man looked over at the younging, his beard and hair a lot grayer with all the worries “Why I’m telling you this?” 

“Because you don’t want to lose any more people to Thanos...” (Y/N) almost whispered. 

“You’re damn right (Y/N)! Especially not another kid! That’s why I’m so mad!” Tony almost smashed the glass on the table “You’re off the mission... You can help around but when it comes to Thanos you keep down and leave that to the adults.” 

Her eyes widened “But-”

“No buts! Those are my last words! Come talk to me when you find a way to undo all this mess...” he slowly walked out of the lab not knowing how close to the home he hit.

Tony had no idea (Y/N) was working on a possible way to maybe get everybody back. What he said was just supposed to be another act of mocking from him but he just made the young superhero think about a lot bigger danger.

The chances she could survive bringing just one person back were so little that she always refused to even consider the option. But now it was settled. If she wants to get Tony back on her side... If she wants to get back to the real action...

The first person she has to bring back is Peter Parker. 

(while reading this part of the story I recommend you listen to this song)

Sitting in history class is the next level of boring.

(Y/N) is so ahead that the teacher just ignores her when she stares blankly at the chalkboard and doesn’t work on her worksheet because she knew the not so new kid anymore already finished it. 

Yesterday night was tough.  (Y/N) has no idea how Peter does this almost every day. She started going with him on a lot of missions or just small patrols but they had a big action last night until 3AM which made today even less enjoyable than it already could be. 

Not only is she alone in history class... she has two history classes and this was just the first one.

The only person that is familiar here is unfortunately Flash.  He’s been secretly scrolling through his phone probably looking for answers. He frowns on the screen seeming very confused.

“Alright class the bell is going to ring in a minute let’s go through the first question quickly and we’ll finish the rest in the next period.” Miss. Miller claps her hands. 

In that same moment, the door to the classroom opens wide and all the concentration is lost.

(Y/N) forgets how to breathe for a minute when her eyes land on Happy. 

It seems like he’s out of breath trying very hard for them to not notice. His cheeks are bright pink and he has a gun case very visible right at his belt. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt but I need (Y/N) (Y/S). Right now.” he shows a little pocket with some badge.

“Pardon me,” Miss. Miller walks closer to him “Who are you?” 

“Harold Hogan, head security in the Stark Industries madam. I have orders and I’m here to fulfill them. The kid is going with me right now, (Y/N) pack your bag.” Happy looks past Miss. Miller.

“What is going on Happy?!” (Y/N)’s heart beats faster than ever.

“I’ll explain it on the way we have to go. Now!” his hard expression doesn’t help (Y/N)’s catastrophic spiral of thoughts at all.

“Wait you know this man?” Miss. Miller asks confused. 

“Yes. It’s okay I’ll be fine Miss.” (Y/N) nods and throws the bag over her shoulder running out of her class.

The kids around her start getting very curious so she quickly closes the door to the classroom walking right behind Happy.

Miss Miller is still looking after them not sure if she should allow her student to leave. 

“What’s going on Happy you’re scaring me.” this also roughly translates to Is Peter alright? Please don’t tell me something happened to him. Please tell me he’s fine. 

“Pictures got leaked. Your identity is out (Y/N). Everybody knows because you and Spider-Boy weren’t careful enough.” Happy keeps a calm tone even though it seems a little rough but he doesn’t want any teachers coming out of their classrooms to see who’s making such a fuss. 

“What? How? When? What?” (Y/N) stops in her tracks fairly confused.

Happy stops and takes one loud breath “Last night. They saw you taking off your mask late at night when you were crawling in through the window. God! I told Tony to not only install those movement sensors at the doors but windows too!” Happy rants off the topic for a second “They know where you live (Y/N). They know your full name, where you go to school, how old are you, that you’re under Tony’s wing, they know everything!” he whisper-shouts. 

(Y/N)’s blood turns cold “Only me? They don’t know anything about Peter right?” 

“No. Nothing. They know you’re linked to him but they don’t know he’s Spider-Man. They also know you’re linked to Spider-Man but they don’t know he’s Peter Parker.”

Thank god.

“The article got posted fifteen minutes ago. We got here first but I can promise you if we don’t hurry up people from all the newspapers are going to be here any minute.” Happy starts walking again. 

“We?” (Y/N) scrunches her nose.

Happy nods “Tony is outside in a limousine.” 

“Oh... That’s a good way to not bring attention right?” (Y/N) bitterly laughs “And what did you mean by the door sensors?”

The bell rings and the halls get filled in a second. 

All the eyes are glued to the two.

Happy glances around “Oh great... Let’s go girly we need to leave before anyone checks their phone.” 

The moment he finishes his sentence (Y/N) sees Ned walking out of math class. 

They make eye contact and (Y/N) prays he knows what her look means. Thankfully, Ned is smart enough to recognize the situation and he starts heading the way she wants him to. 

MJ is the next one to walk out of the class looking bored as ever.  When her eyes land on Happy and (Y/N) she bears the same confusion Miss. Miller did. She grips her books and shoots a curious look to (Y/N). 

And a cherry on the top is when Flash runs around the corner shouting “She’s one of them! She has powers! She’s a superhero! She knows Spider-Man! Just check the news!” he keeps on getting closer and closer to them. 

Happy’s eyes do a master eye-roll “Oh my god that’s exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Let’s go (Y/N)!” 

(Y/N) watches Michelle look over someone's shoulder and read something off their phone.  Her eyes glance back to (Y/N), filled with betrayal. This is the most emotion she ever saw on her friends face. 

No. It’s not like that MJ. I trust you but I couldn’t... I just couldn’t... 

Before her mouth speaks her legs are already making their way to her but she starts to walk away fast. 

Flash finally stops in front of (Y/N) and grabs her hand.  He says something but she can’t hear him because her ears fill with white noise. Her stomach feels as if a metal hand was squeezing it. 

Flash sees something glisten in the young superheroes eyes and at first, he thinks it’s tears.  She’s about to cry. 

But no. 

His hand feels a little too warm out of a sudden and when he looks at it his fingertips are lit up like little knots in a candle.  He screams and lets go of (Y/N) but she takes him by the collar. 

“I told you to never touch me again!” filled with fear, helplessness, and anger she lets out a tiny bit of the mix of these raw emotions and Flash flies 10 meters away from her.

All the trash from the garbage bins flies through the hall along with him and a few hit Michelle’s back and she turns just soon enough to move out of the way to let Flash hit the ground next to her.

MJ stares at both of them startled.

Ned is still there. He couldn’t get past all the people crowded in the hallway so he stared at (Y/N) with his mouth wide open.

The hall is almost silent. 

(Y/N) is drowning in herself and the only thing that brings her back to reality is Happy’s tight grasp at the strap of her backpack.

“That was enough let’s go! We need to go! Now!!” Happy pulls her harder. 

(Y/N) keeps staring at Michelle and Flash, stumbles a few feet and then starts walking fast to the exit of the school. 

She tries to not look at any of the faces in the hallway.  Some kids are screaming, some are crawling closer to her with their phones in hand some of them are running away in fear. 

They finally walk out of school just to get in more mess.

Ned trips over a few students before he gets to Peter’s locker which is on the other side of the school. 

Peter looks like he’s almost half asleep meanwhile rummaging through his locker “What’s up Ned?” he asks without even looking up at him.

“(Y/N)!” Ned screams in the middle of heavy breaths.

“Yeah what about her?” Peter’s lips curl into a soft sleepy smile at the mention of his girl.

“(Y/N)! Some guy from-the Stark industries I think- They are taking her- I don’t know what’s happening- I think I’m going to faint...” Ned starts coughing. 

“Taking her? Who’s taking her?! Mr. Stark? Why? Where is she?!” Peter closes his locker his pupils dilating making his eyes look almost black. 

“Outside.” in a blink of an eye Peter is gone sprinting with all his superhero might to get to the school's exit as fast as possible “Goddamnit Peter...” Ned runs after him. 

Stepping outside felt like a red carpet event.  Without the actual red carpet. And the royal treatment. 

Actually, it felt more like a Justin Timberlake concert. Or Bieber. Or Shawn Mendes. Actually, any big star these days.

Happy tried to give as much space as possible so (Y/N) could walk to the obviously expensive limousine with black windows. 

All the press-people were screaming questions, putting microphones or dictaphones her way and made her almost blind by all of the flashes while taking pictures. 

(Y/N) quickly opened the door and almost jumped into the limousine. 

“Thank you, principal Morita I apologize for causing this inconvenience. I’m very grateful for your time and don’t worry about my sponsorship of your school it still stays.” Tony sat in his seat as comfortable as he could be.

He had yellow glasses on, a suit and boots he could probably pay a few rents with.

After ending the phone call with the principal he looked at (Y/N). She was expecting to see anger and annoyance. Instead, he seemed... Tired and... And something else. Something she was afraid to see in his eyes from the moment she met him.

“I’m not angry at you (Y/N).” 

Oh please don’t say it.

“I’m... disappointed.” 

(Y/N) heard the engine start when Tony started explaining how many things in her life are about to change forever. 

Peter wasn’t sure how he survived until the end of the school day. 

When he ran out of school the only thing he saw was a limousine that was speeding down the road followed by ten news vans. 

It was definitely Mr. Stark. 

He didn’t find out about the whole thing for a while.  Then MJ came over to their table at lunch.

“Did you know?” she gripped at her tray. 

“Know what?” Ned’s voice was unnaturally high.

“Did you know (Y/N) has superpowers? That she’s ´one of the Avengers´?”

“She’s not.” Peter almost barks at her while his foot taps relentlessly. 

Her face changes into something the boys never saw before “So you knew? She told you but not me? She trusted you two idiots but not me?!” 

Peter wanted to hit himself in the head so hard... 

“No, wait! MJ!” he calls after her but she just screams a really bad swear word and leaves.

“It’s out Pete.” Ned slowly pushes his phone with the news opened to him.

Peter clutches Ned’s phone in his hands and reads a few articles. 

“SUPERHERO WITHOUT THE MASK! WHO’S FAULT IS THIS?!” 

And guess who...

Peter put the phone slowly down and buried his face in his hands.

She’s going to hate me. She hates me. I ruined her life... It’s all my fault. If it wasn’t for me and my stupid, STUPID late night missions! I should have never let her go with me! It should have been MY identity. I should be the one who has to go through this NOT HER! 

“Peter I’m sure this will get sorted. It’s going to be in the news for a few days but it’ll pass.” Ned tries to calm him down the best way he can because he’s not dumb.

He sees very well that Peter’s brain is taking the worst possible scenario in his head and making it a reality. 

“I need to talk to her. I need to apologize. She probably won’t want to see me but I have to tell her something.... something.” Peter searches in his bag and quickly throws it on his back. 

“What are you doing?” Ned’s voice breaks.

Peter doesn’t answer and just leaves the table. 

Tag list: @adventurousbooknerd @yafriendlyfangirl @royalestrellas @daringbanshee

[moonprincess92]

A family can be 2 traumatised soldiers and their 30 kids (8)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7  

Read on AO3 

Part 8 

If there was one thing her life was lacking, it was friends.

Jyn didn’t kid herself that she was exactly friend material though, and perhaps that was mostly the reason why. She just wasn’t hardwired for that kind of relationship. After spending so long supressing any kind of emotional attachment, getting herself to relax and open up to even one person had been trying enough, but it hit her one evening when the kids were all in bed and Cassian was in a meeting that she… literally had no one else. She didn’t have anyone to turn to, to ask about or to check in with. She had a professional relationship with the princess, but she definitely wouldn’t go so far as to call her a friend. Leia certainly had too many of her own issues to deal with at the moment anyway. She had Aden and Tavisha, but they were still kids to her and probably always would be. They understood a lot, they had a lot to offer, but there were just some things that you couldn’t talk to your kids about.

In the end, Jyn ended up comm-ing the only person she could think of.

“Hey, Shara?” 

“Jyn?” the pilot answered in a state of utter confusion. “Is everything ok? Is this something to do with Poe–?”

“No, no,” Jyn quickly assured, rubbing at the pressure that was building behind her forehead. This was a horrible idea. “I was just – I don’t know whether it’s too late – but um, I need someone to talk to. Did you want to buy some illegal whiskey and get hammered with me somewhere?”

There was some rustling down Shara’s end, a dull thud like she’d hit Kes out of her way or something. “It’s never too late for that,” she answered at once. “Where can I find you?”

The whiskey was bought from a particularly well-known source within the Intelligence-circles. While the agents themselves were the face of the operation, Jyn was almost fairly certain that it was actually one particular spotty-faced kid in human resources who was the one doing the actual smuggling. Either way, High Council had no idea and monthly bar nights continued even though the entire rebellion was two steps from death these days. Jyn met Shara in her classroom on the main frigate, figuring that no one would suspect anything illegal to be happening there. They slumped down onto the cushions that Jyn had managed to steal from the haul of an intercepted Imperial shuttle to decorate the room with and passed the bottle between them.

“I can’t even remember the last time I got drunk,” Shara almost choked on the whiskey. “Gotta be before Poe was born.”

“Sorry if–”

“Kriff, don’t be sorry!” Shara added, shoving her shoulder sluggishly. “I’ve never felt so alive!”

Jyn felt the giant knot of tension in her chest loosen slightly. “Thanks,” she said. “I… I realised that I basically have no friends. I have Cassian, but we’re apparently getting through this by carrying on like normal. There’s not even a lot left that we could say to each other because he gets it. But sometimes I think there’s still some stuff I want to get out and I don’t…”

“You literally change my son every time he soils himself, I am fuckin’ HERE FOR YOU,” Shara declared. 

“Actually, Cassian mostly handles that job. I only do it when all else fails.”

“STILL.”

“You really are a lightweight, huh?”

“This stuff is kriffin’ strooooong,” Shara glanced down at the bottle in her hands before shrugging and gulping down some more. “So talk to me, Jyn. How’re you goin’?”

“Honestly, not good, Shara.”

The other woman hiccupped slightly before saying, “I joined the rebellion after Scarif. I only ever heard about it from the rumours.”

“The rumours are mostly true.”

Shara took another shot. “Shiiiiit.”

“Although I didn’t get revenge on the man who killed my mother by gouging out his eyes, everyone always gets that part wrong,” Jyn pointed out, hastily. “Cassian stopped me before I could get that far.”

Shara looked like she might have been recovering slightly when she had to go and add that point on the end. She shook her head before handing the bottle over. “I always… sometimes I wondered,” she admitted as Jyn drank. “How you and Cassian had gone from blowing shit up to looking after kids.”

“There’s a lot of rumours about that too,” Jyn pointed out. “Unfortunately, the truth is I broke some guy’s arm and Mothma got pissed off.”

Shara nodded, lips twitching. “But I think I get it now… well maybe, I don’t know if I could ever really get it... but after everything you’ve been through, I can understand wanting to do less. Looking after those kids isn’t any easier, but at least you’re not getting shot at every other day, right?”

“I don’t know about that,” Jyn could recall several target practices where her kids’ shots had gone only slightly awry. “but… yeah.”

“I can’t imagine what you’re dealing with.”

Jyn closed her eyes, letting the alcohol swirl her brain. If she let it, she could so easily spiral out of control right now. She could let the panic sink in, let it crush her until she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, could only scream and scream and scream, and maybe it’s what she felt like doing, but as always she didn’t have the time. The kids needed someone to assure them that the galaxy wasn’t ending, that it was all going to be ok, and she knew Cassian was on the verge of snapping as much as she was. If she lost it, he might too and they would be of no use to anyone in the Medbay… but as much as that was all true, it also meant that they hadn’t really dealt with it at all.

Her chest constricted as she fought to keep the waves crashing over her.

“Yeah, I apparently need a moment,” Jyn admitted. “I’ve done enough talking, I’ve done enough keeping it together… I just need to break down for a bit. It’s going to be ugly, Shara.”

“We all need a chance to be ugly, girl,” Shara told her.

“I’m serious–”

“And I’mmmmm drunk,” Shara added. “but serious too, yes. Jyn do whatever the hell you need to do. I’ll be here.”

And she was.

Jyn almost didn’t catch the symptoms.

“EMERGENCY DRILL,” she suddenly barked, hitting the app on her datapad. The siren blared, loud and deafening, and instead of the usual immediate flurry of movement, it only elicited a few stirrings and a lot of pained groans. Jyn smirked a little at her classroom full of sluggish teenagers, the lot of them having been moaning and complaining all day so far and now at last she seemed to have figured out exactly what was up with them all.

She cut the siren off. She wasn’t that cruel.

“All right, losers,” she said, cheerfully. “If that had been the Empire invading you’d all be dead, so do yourselves a favour and confess now: who provided the booze?”

The class froze. Rivi was slumped back in her chair with a spare pair of flight googles over her eyes and hadn’t moved for over an hour while she was fairly certain that Geron had slept through the entire drill, but she noticed a lot of panicked looks being exchanged across the classroom. They ultimately all came back to the same person however, and Jyn paced slowly until she was right in front of her chair.

“Lahrin?” she asked. “Care to explain?”

“It wasn’t MY idea,” she deflected at once.

Jyn was almost 1000% certain it had been. As much as she loved Lahrin, the girl had been manipulating situations to her advantage ever since she had arrived as a sweet, innocent-looking 15-year-old two years ago. “Look, I don’t care that apparently, a bunch of you all went and got black-out drunk last night,” Jyn sighed, glaring around at her roomful of what were clearly hungover teenagers. “what I do care about is still being able to protect yourselves. The Empire won’t give you a pass just because you drank too much.”

“Easy for you to say,” Lahrin pointed out. “You were totally hungover in class last week.”

Jyn pinched the bridge of her nose. Hungover hadn’t even been the start of her issues that day. Shara had eventually dragged her back to her room around 0500, passed out, her knuckles skinned and her throat burning. She hadn’t been in much of a state to do anything the few hours later when she needed to be awake…

“Don’t get snarky with me,” Jyn warned. “if you’ll remember, I still came to class. I still did my job.”

Lahrin at least looked a little chastised. Jyn sighed.

“Look, I know things haven’t been easy,” she told them all. “Wait – can someone wake up Geron for this?” She waited as Dan kicked Geron awake and Vance was forced to take away Rivi’s goggles to make her look up. “Guys – being honest, I’m not handling the news of the second Death Star well. But I’m still here and I’m still getting through it. You can drink yourselves stupid if you want, but you all have to keep going, ok? If I have to, you guys have to as well. And with that being said,” Jyn grimaced at what she was about to ask next. “tell me the gossip. Who passed out, who hooked up…?”

Thankfully, she got some laughs out of that. “I wouldn’t kiss any of these losers!” Lahrin practically choked.

“Way too close for that, eh?” Kris teased, poking her on the arm.

Rivi just snapped her goggles back on.

“Don’t worry, we were safe,” Vance felt the need to hastily add.

“Ok, I’ve heard enough,” Jyn held up a hand.

These days, she held Cassian a bit too tight. She kissed slightly too hard and pushed him around far too much, and he didn’t even mind. He never stopped her, never complained, but she didn’t want this to be their only way of connecting anymore. Every time she thought that enough time was passing that they could start to figure things out again, something else would happen and they would backslide once more. This time, it was hearing the rumours that a group of Bothan spies had come up with a plan to get more intel on the new Death Star, and it reeked too much of Scarif that she ended up fucking Cassian within an inch of his life on their refresher floor.

“I’m sorry…” she said in a hoarse whisper, once they had finally crawled into bed. He lay on his back in a kind of stupor. By this point, Jyn usually had a few hours before the usual tension and dread started settling in again, but she looked down at him and realised that it was already there, or maybe still there, stabbing at her heart and not letting her go. This wasn’t fixing things. Jyn reached out, curling an arm over his chest and curling herself into his side as much as she could, a leg hitching up over his hip.

“I’m a mess,” she whispered.

“My mess,” Cassian corrected. “Besides, me too.”

She clicked her tongue at the sentiment. “We should be talking, not fucking.”

Cassian made a non-committal sound. “We can do both.”

She attempted a laugh, but it got stuck in her throat somewhere and came out as a kind of gurgle. “Cassian…” she whispered, head firmly tucked under his so that there was no way she could accidentally meet his eyes. “It’s all just happening again. The Bothan’s are going on a suicide mission, the entire damn Death Star, we keep on trying, we keep on fighting and fighting but nothing ever makes a fucking difference.”

“I know.”

“You’re supposed to reassure me, that’s how comforting works.”

“I don’t know how to do it when I feel the same as you,” Cassian pointed out. His arms squeezed around her tighter, his hand sliding down to hold onto her thigh like an anchor. “About 99% of my time, I feel like I want to punch something and the only reason I don’t is the kids.”

They fall quiet for a few long moments at that. It was comforting to know that she wasn’t alone, that she wasn’t the only one feeling like she was, but then again it was jarring to realise that she didn’t have someone to talk actual sense into her. Shara let her cry and Leia let her work, but she needed someone to let her deal and she could practically feel Cassian starting to come to the same conclusions that she was.

“Shit,” he muttered. “We both really need to see someone, don’t we?”’

“You mean a professional someone,” It wasn’t a question. She sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Unfortunately, the rebellion was severely lacking in well, basically everything. It couldn’t even provide basic nutritional food, let alone a functioning therapy system, but luckily they all apparently made do with the informal help of the medics. Jyn quite famously didn’t get along with any of them (probably from the amount of times she’d defied their ‘no visitors except for direct family’ rule) but she would make an exception if it could in anyway help stable her peace of mind. She at least owed it to the kids to try.

“In the morning,” she murmured, kissing his neck. “One of us will skip class and go ask about who to talk to. If it’s the batty old lady who tried to curse me for trying to visit Ann when she was sick, then I’ll just take my chances.”

Thankfully, he let out a bark of laughter.

“Tell me a random kid story?” Jyn asked then, keen for any kind of distraction. “How were they today, did they behave?”

Cassian chuckled. “Quite a few of them got married, actually.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

He pressed his lips to her hair. “I think they were kind of inspired by our wedding, but Arlo was the ringleader. I caught him trying to dress up in my jacket and when I asked what he was doing, he said he was getting ready for his wedding. He’d roped everyone into it apparently, set out all the chairs, made an aisle, got Danny to be the officiator and Bree and Charlee as the flower girls.”

“Who was he marrying?”

“Oh, multiple people,” Cassian chuckled. “First, he married Haley. Then he married Lyle. He was going to marry Fliss next, but Pero got possessive and I worried for a moment we would have a duel over her.”

“We might have to have a talk to him about that.”

“Thankfully, I managed to calm them all down,” Cassian agreed. “Honestly, it was hilarious watching. Arlo insisted on kissing all of them, too.”

“Isn’t he still six?”

“He was really into the authenticity of the thing.”

“It’s weird to think Arlo was once that little kid I had to take to the toilet every damn time he needed to poo.”

Cassian nodded against her head, but she felt the tension seeping back in just from the way she was wrapped around him. His muscles clenched and she rubbed her hands over his back, shoulders, in an attempt to keep it at bay, at least just for a little longer. No matter how much they distracted themselves for, their issues always came sneaking back in eventually. 

“Don’t think about it,” she murmured.

“I’m trying,” he whispered back. Then after clearing his throat, he spoke a little louder. “What did the teens get up to today?”

“Well, apparently they’ve all taken up partying recently, so honestly trying to get them to do anything in class is a nightmare…”

Medic Dhanya Hightower didn’t look like much. She was small, long hair always braided down her back and a smile perpetually on her face no matter what was happening within the Rebellion. She must have seen countless injuries, wounds too terrible to even describe, yet she was always willing to listen. She was always willing to make time, and that’s how after some asking around, Jyn found herself in Medbay storage, leaning against the shelves and talking while Dhanya ticked varying stock off her datapad.

“Jyn, babe,” Dhanya said without even looking up. “it’s not your fault.”

“I know… but my brain still thinks it is.”

“I guess that’s what we all do,” Dhanya nodded in understanding. The woman always understood, somehow. “Do you speak much to Captain Andor about all this?”

“A little… but we realised that while talking to each other was good, we were both too far into this to be able to help each other,” Jyn wished she could get away with only speaking to Cassian, but here she was. “I wouldn’t be here if it was helping.”

“You know that he’s come and spoken to me too, right?”

“We both decided it was for the best.”

“I’m glad you did,” Dhanya smiled at her warmly. “A lot of people come and talk to me, but even more don’t. I’ve known of Captain Andor ever since I first joined the rebellion ten standard years ago, and this is the first damn time I’ve ever been able to actually help him.”

“Yeah, he’s not exactly forthcoming.”

“But he is with you.”

“He married me,” Jyn shrugged. “He has to be.”

Dhanya laughed. “Jyn, can I ask you a question?”

She hesitated at first. It was a natural instinct to immediately protect herself from anything trying to force its way inside, but the last thing Dhanya would do is force. Jyn had sought out the informal therapist of her own free will, had spoken to her about things she hadn’t properly spoken of in years, she knew this was safe and confidential and ok… but it was hard to let go of natural instincts.

“Sure,” she shrugged.

“What’s your biggest fear?”

So many things could come to mind. There were the obvious things, things that Dhanya was probably expecting – that this new Death Star would kill them all, that she would die, that her father would be disappointed in her, that Cassian would die – but honestly, the first thing that came into her head was none of these things.

“I’m afraid that if I break down any more than I already have, then I won’t be able to do my job properly,” she admitted. “I’m afraid that I’ll hurt my kids.”

Her kids, her kids, her kids.

“Wow,” Dhanya rested her datapad on a shelf for a moment. “You… really love them, huh?”

“I would die for them,” Jyn said, trying to keep the ferociousness out of her voice.

“I didn’t realise.”

“No one really does,” she said. “I don’t think anyone ever actually did this job properly until Cassian and I came along.”

“What’s the most ridiculous thing a kid’s done?” Dhanya asked enthusiastically then.

Kriffing hell, where to start. “Erm,” Jyn shrugged. “a kid tried to strangle me once?”

Dhanya’s eyes went wide.

“Don’t worry,” Jyn added. “he’s gotten better over the years. Reno’s only mostly an asshole now.”

“I’m honestly in awe of you, sometimes.”

“Thank you,” Jyn said. “and honestly… thank you. For talking to me. And for listening.”

“Of course.”

“JYN! JYN!” Vance practically crashed into her as they were all leaving the mess hall. His hands grabbed at her arms, nearly shoving her to the ground thanks to the 16-year-old’s weight. Jyn staggered as she exclaimed,

“What the hell–?”

“DID YOU HEAR? YOU HAVEN’T HEARD – HAN’S BACK! THEY FOUND HAN!”

That changed everything.

Jyn had no choice but to be dragged behind Vance as the kid sprinted for the hangar. Specifically the West Hangar, which was where all outside ships usually docked and went through screening before being allowed in. Jyn knew that Leia had been out on yet another mission to try and recover him, but how Vance had figured out that she was successful this time was beyond her. He tugged on her hand, pulling her through the crowds that were slowly gathering, the rebels who wanted to see the esteemed captain return home, and Jyn called out,

“Wait, wait! How the hell do you know he’s back?”

Vance skidded to a halt at the edge of the crowd, neck craning over all the heads. “I might’ve gotten Jessa to hack ship communications,” he admitted a little sheepishly.

She wasn’t even surprised. “Wait – Jessa can hack?” she decided to focus on.

“Oh, yeah – she’s fucking good at it, too! Can slice her way into anything.”

“I’m going to be having words with that girl…” Jyn muttered. A good data analyst she would make one day, but only if she used her powers for good. Jyn had to wonder why she hadn’t thought of teaching the skill until now. Luckily, they didn’t get sent out of the hangar. They had to hastily pretend to be unloading a recent shipment to avoid the crowd getting moved along, but they were still there by the time the unmistakable Millennium Falcon was eventually docking.

Han Solo looked like shit, put bluntly, but he didn’t keel over when Vance hurtled up out of nowhere and flung his arms around his middle, so he at least had that going for him. Leia didn’t let go of his hand, her tired face suddenly with a lot more life to it. While Han gingerly patted Vance on the head, Jyn hastily apologised for being unable to keep her kid under control.

“It’s fine,” Leia told her. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You let the kids go to Salahar,” Leia reminded her. “Their intel allowed us to find him. Without you, he would still be lost… so thank you.”

Jyn shrugged it off, but it hit her a little to see Vance so ecstatic upon seeing his hero back safe and sound. She didn’t hug Han herself, but accepted him clapping a hand onto her shoulder in acknowledgement. His presence, it seemed, had also brought a sense of urgency since Leia parted ways with, “There will be a briefing soon. Main council chamber. You and Andor need to come.”

“You know we can’t fight anymore–”

“Just come,” Leia insisted. “You’ll want to hear this.”

“Is this another battle?!” Carina was yelling in a panic.

“I’LL FIGHT ‘EM!” Reno punched the wall in his enthusiasm.

“Are we gonna have to evacuate again?” Ava clung to her waist, fearfully.

“EVERYONE, CALM DOWN!” Cassian’s booming voice was apparently the only thing that could get the entire youth class back under control. Their classroom really wasn’t big enough to comfortably accommodate them all anymore, but they had squeezed them all in for this, which was probably the only plus to this mess. It meant that the kids were all together, hearing the news at the same time; they sat huddled together, small ones on bigger kids’ laps, and it was at least comforting to know that they had all come a long way from that first classroom she had ever walked into. But the news of the scattered rebel fleets all being called in from across the galaxy, of a major council meeting that for some reason Jyn and Cassian were having to attend, it was scaring them all.

Jyn didn’t blame them.

She sat next to Cassian on the one table that they had in the room, Poe held safely in her lap. He was being unusually clingy, refusing to be put down and holding onto her pants or shirt for dear life if he was. Cassian spoke to the kids in that calm, yet still commanding way of his, which helped at least a little in putting everyone at ease.

“Look,” he explained. “we honestly don’t know what this meeting is going to be about. Just know we’ll only be gone for one morning and will be back in the afternoon. One of the other usual training officers will watch you guys, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“But this isn’t a normal meeting, is it?” the ever perceptive Trina called out. That caused several others to pipe up and Jade to sign frantically at them.

Truth was no, it wasn’t a normal meeting. But if her sessions with Dhanya had taught her anything, it was that they needed to carry on as normal as possible, no matter how crazy it might seem. Honestly, if the kids weren’t prepared for what was about to happen then Jyn certainly wasn’t, and the only thing keeping her heart from slamming out of her chest was Cassian’s hand occasionally reaching out and brushing against her side.  But they could do this.

They had to.

She caught some anxious looks but the next morning they still left for the council meeting, making their way through the giant frigate only for it to eventually be confirmed that every Bothan who had gone after information about the new Death Star had died. After everything else they’d been through it was barely a blow at this point, but Jyn still felt her eyes close at it regardless. Cassian pressed his forehead subtly into her hair for a moment. This was it. It was all happening. They were attacking, and it was happening again, and someone actually had the audacity to ask whether Jyn and Cassian were going to be on the strike team sent down to Endor.

“We couldn’t,” Cassian insisted. “We can’t, you know that.”

But there were a lot of eye rolls at that. She heard someone mutter under their breath, “Who let the babysitters in?” Someone called down from the top of the tiered seating, “Why were they even allowed in here?” and Jyn was half ready to leap up there before Cassian could even get a hand on her shoulder.

Mothma hushed the chatter at once, but turned to Jyn and Cassian while General Akbar explained the logistics of the attack in the background. “While others might not think the same, I do not expect either of you to fight,” she told them without preamble. “You were asked here as it was thought you deserved to know what was happening.”

They’d been on this side of the pressure before. Jyn knew that look in Cassian’s eye. They were incapable of not helping whenever someone asked for it, but this was way bigger than anything else.

This was no Hoth evacuation, this was a carefully planned attack.

“We understand,” Jyn answered. “We can’t join the troops, but we thank you all the same.”

“You should do it.”

Goddamn kriffing hell –

She and Cassian both whirled around. She almost thought she might have a heart attack at seeing several of their kids lurking at the entrance to the hall, Rivi being the one to defiantly step forward and call out. At once, the other teens hissed frantically at Rivi to come back while several council members gave exasperated groans and looks that clearly said, can’t you keep these children under control?

Honestly, sometimes Jyn didn’t think it was at all possible.

“I am so sorry – ALL OF YOU!” she leapt at her feet at once. “OUTSIDE, NOW.”

She ended up practically frog-marching the kids down to a nearby control room to yell at them in peace, Cassian rounding them up at the back with an equally furious look. It took a couple moments for her to realise it was the same room that she had retreated to after hearing about the second Death Star for the first time. Cassian stood at her side once they had all filed sheepishly in, arms folded across his chest and glaring in that way he knew would make the kids cower.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE ALL DOING?” she stormed.

“Look what you did, Rivi, Jyn’s mad!” Geron hissed.

“YOU BET YOUR FUCKING ARSES I’M MAD,” Jyn said.

“Look, we just wanted to know what’s going on!” Rivi insisted. It was their group of eldest teens who had apparently snuck out – Jessa, Lahrin, Geron, Neera, Vance and Rivi – though Jyn had no doubt they would also be reporting back to everyone else. “Honest! You guys wouldn’t tell us, so what else were we supposed to do? Jessa tried slicing into the mainframe, but all the briefing notes were encrypted, so–”

“Bitch, way to throw me under the shuttlebus–” Jessa shoved Rivi hastily.

“I’M JUST SAYING,” Rivi threw up her hands. “We only wanted to know. We hate not knowing.”

Jyn rubbed her eyes. Shit, she had underestimated their kids in the worst way. Nothing was going to stop them from finding out. They were nearly adults, and they only wanted to know what was happening. She exchanged a look with Cassian and knew he was thinking the same thing.

“Look,” Cassian began. “you’re all in major trouble for sneaking out of class, let’s get that clear first. But…”

He gestured vaguely to a clear space in the middle of the control room, and they all sat down together. It felt like a moment to be sitting down for, at least. Jessa and Lahrin leaned against each other, Neera tucked underneath Jessa’s arm like a child still. Vance leaned back against a store cupboard, Geron resting against him with his legs over Rivi’s lap, despite all their frustration still at their ringleader. Ready to listen, because really that’s all they had wanted.

A chance to listen.

“How much of the meeting did you hear?” she asked.

“A bit,” Neera admitted.

“You all know already about the new Death Star,” Cassian explained. “We finally got intel. Where it’s located, its status, everything. It’s currently over a moon called Endor, so far non-operational and being overseen by Emperor Palpatine himself. A lot of people died to get that information.”

“Like you guys nearly died the first time,” Rivi said without hesitation.

Something stabbed her.

“Yes,” Cassian closed his eyes a moment. “The council is organising an attack on the Death Star. There are going to be two teams, fighter’s striking from space and another being sent to Endor to take out the shield that’s protecting the thing.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got that part. C’mon, guys! Don’t worry about us, you need to do it!” Rivi said, amidst more ‘yeah!’s and nods from the others. “The fucking EMPEROR is on that thing, if you guys manage to blow him up you could end the entire war!”

“It’s not that simple–”

“We don’t want you to hold back because of us,” Neera piped up.

“Yeah, we can take care of ourselves–”

“Hell, we could even help–”

“STOP, all of you,” Jyn snapped. They all fell silent. “You’re not helping, and we’re not going! Don’t even argue!”

“But don’t you want to?” Rivi, naturally, just ploughed on without a care. “You have a chance to end this, and we all know how much it would mean to you–”

“Rivi,” Jyn cut in. She stared around the confused faces of the teenagers and said in a slightly more gentle voice, “Look… yes, it would mean a lot. But the thing is, we have shit in our lives that mean more now. You, Rivi. And the rest of you insane kids,” she added, gesturing to the others. “You mean more to us than…” She trailed off helplessly, glancing over at Cassian.

“Anything,” he finished.

It was tempting. The knowledge that the Emperor was there, that there really was a good chance to get justice for her father and to seize a life she hadn’t realised how much she wanted until now… it was almost enough that the kids were giving them permission to go.

But they were children, and they were the adults, damn it. They had to make the hard decisions.

“I don’t get it,” Rivi threw up her hands.

“We don’t expect you to, Rivi.”

Just because the council was planning the end of a war didn’t mean that everything came to a screeching halt. It was Ava’s 11th birthday, which meant naturally they had to have a party for her. It at least seemed to lift some of the tension as they decked out the training gym in decorations and they all attempted to learn the traditional (and somehow hugely complicated) birthday folk dance that Ava apparently wouldn’t accept unless it was done perfectly. After some intense searching on the holonet, Jyn had managed at least to get the feet right and Ava shrieked with glee as they span around together.

“How the hell are you getting this?” Cassian didn’t exactly do out of breath, but she noted the exertion on his face at least as he pulled up alongside her. The man had no rhythm at all much to Ava’s severe disappointment and Jyn’s utter amusement. Hell, at least it gave her something to be amused about. She paused in the dance, letting Ava move on to a different partner and watching her grab onto Magda, swinging around with her instead.

“I pick things up quickly.”

He glanced at her as they took a break from dancing. The kids span and laughed underneath the coloured lights, and Jyn wished she could freeze it all. “Ava’s 11…” he said after a moment, shaking his head. “It can’t be real. She’s supposed to be a little eight-year-old who can’t go to bed without a goodnight hug.”

“To be fair, she still needs the hug.”

“True,” Cassian pointed out. “but she’s not allowed to get older.”

“I don’t know… I kind of want her to,” Jyn realised. She noticed Cassian’s questioning look and she carried on, “Just… this is a war. Malia will never be older than 18. I try not to imagine the kids getting older, because I know it will hurt more if they died… which I know probably isn’t very healthy of me to be thinking,” she added.

“I understand, though.”

She smiled as she watched Ava lean in and kiss Magda’s cheek, ever the cuddly, sweet one. “Thank the Force someone does. So when they do get older like this… it’s kind of a nice surprise.”

She wanted that life for them. She wanted them to have a life wholly different to hers, where it was actually a miracle if she reached her next birthday. She wanted these kids to actually grow up, get older. She wanted to see them hit the awkward puberty years, she wanted to see them slowly turn into adults, she wanted to still be there for them when they comm-ed her at 0200 asking how to wash sheets.

They wouldn’t get that chance unless they won this war.

Jyn sighed, reaching out and casually curling her fingers around Cassian’s.

“I’ve got to fight.”

He gripped her hand tight.

“I know.”

The rebellion moved in a hurry.

It seemed that no matter which way you turned, there was a shuttle heading in that direction. For as many squadrons that were coming in, there were enough also going out to distract the Empire from the fact that they were planning something in the first place. As non-combatants, Jyn got the message that the youth class was being shipped out to the nearest Alliance-friendly planet first thing in the morning, something none of the kids were all too happy about. Considering that up until this point they’d always managed to be in the thick of the action like during the Hoth evacuation, she wasn’t surprised that they weren’t taking too kindly to getting sent away.

“C’mon, we could help!” Azha was yelling, even as she was being carried sideways around the middle by Cassian like a smashball. She flailed her legs as she was hauled up the loading ramp. “I could kick some serious Imperial ass!”

“I know, you’ve only been complaining about it the last 24 hours,” Jyn rubbed her head, warily.

Cassian dumped the girl unceremoniously onto the shuttle, even as she continued to protest. The hangar was full of noise, the hustle and bustle of loading and unloading, people saying goodbye and officers trying to keep a semblance of order by frantically trying to keep track of how many were boarding. Jyn had been attempting to herd the kids onto their shuttle for the last half an hour, even with Ava clinging around her waist the entire time and refusing to let go. “Honestly,” she muttered under her breath. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I wanna stay!”

“You’re not staying, now get on the damn shuttle.”

“NO.”

“CASSIAN.”

Cassian thankfully strode over and scooped Ava up in one movement. By the time he made it back to the shuttle, both Azha and Reno had managed to jump out the doors and escape once again.

Kriffing hell.

“LOOK, look, come here guys,” Jyn hadn’t wanted to do a big goodbye. It felt too final, too much like she wasn’t coming back, but apparently nothing else was going to settle them. She sat down on the loading ramp (much to the exasperation of the officer overseeing their evacuation) and gestured for everyone to gather round her. Bree crawled into her lap while everyone thankfully listened to her this time. Cassian stayed standing, she noticed. He’d been on edge ever since they’d gotten the official evacuation notice, and the folded arms across his chest told her that he hadn’t lightened up at all since then.

“Look, I need you guys all to listen right now,” Jyn called out to the class. “This thing that is happening, it’s important. It could change everything, or it could change nothing, we honestly don’t know how it’s going to go, but we need you to listen. Get on the shuttle. Stay with Cassian. I’ll see you all again when it is safe.”

“You’re not gonna die though, are you?” Haley asked, her face crinkled in concern.

Jyn smiled through what was honestly a lie. “I’ll have Aden and Tavisha with me. I promise I won’t.”

Still, Jyn made sure to hug every single kid that then grudgingly walked onto that shuttle. She reminded Reno to keep his fists to himself and Warrin to keep squeezing his stress ball if he needed to. She had to deal with Bree crying as she handed her over to Cassian and held it together when she clapped a hand onto Talek’s shoulder, accepting his small nod as a warning to please be careful. She tried to avoid watching Carina, Caylen and Ann as their parents came over to say goodbye, much like all the other kids who had parents who hadn’t already left yet to take part in the attack.

“Honestly!” the officer overseeing them spluttered when even Aden and Tavisha came over to say goodbye. “How many more kids are coming on this flight? Because my manifest already says that we’re six seats short, there’s no way we can fit more on–”

“There’s another shuttle evacuating the medical and support staff,” Jyn just rolled her eyes. “Some of the older guys can just go on that one.”

While Jessa, Lahrin, Geron, Neera, Vance and Rivi got diverted to another shuttle (“Jessa, you are in charge, don’t let those hooligans out of your sight!”) Jyn finally got a chance to pull Cassian to the side. Fingers sliding in against his, she let out a breath as they stood together, blocking out anything that wasn’t the other’s breath.

“I still don’t like you going without me,” Cassian said, quietly.

“We both know one of us has to stay with the kids.”

“I know,” he sighed. “I’ll look after them.”

“You better. At this point they’re likely to stage a mutiny.”

He at least chuckled slightly. Jyn tilted her head up and his lips quickly met hers, melting together for a long a moment as they dared. She wished there was more time, time to slide her hands up his spine and for him to tangle his fingers into her hair, but the officer with the datapad was coughing pointedly behind them and she pulled back hastily to hug him.

“Destroy that thing, ok?” Cassian whispered, mouth pressed against her ear. “Destroy it and come home.”

“I will.”

She watched the shuttle take off with Aden and Tavisha’s arms around her.

Jyn slammed an elbow into a Stormtrooper’s chest plate, regretting it immediately at the pain that flared. Still, she carried on, slamming her boot into the joint of his thigh and he crumpled to the forest ground. She ran, trying to activate the comm in her ear at the same time. She’d been hearing Leia calling her the last fifteen minutes or ago, but had rather had her hands full. Tavisha was with another group, but Aden skidded to a halt when he realised that Jyn was pausing.

“Go on!” she yelled. They needed all the help they could get.

Aden simply pointed his blaster at her. Something gripped her throat for half a second, before she realised that the shot had gone somewhere over her shoulder and taken out a Stormtrooper who had been moments from blasting her brains out from behind her.

“Nah, I’ll stay here,” Aden called, cheerfully.

Jyn rolled her eyes before finally calling Leia back.

“Sergeant Erso!” Leia could barely be heard over the shots fired, Ewoks screaming in fury and the occasional explosion. “The bunker doors have been deadlocked and R2 is compromised, we need help.”

“I can call–”

“I’ve tried,” Leia cut in. “All the signals back to the fleet are going haywire, there’s just too much traffic–”

“I’ll get through,” Jyn insisted. “You concentrate on not dying.”

“Oh, Han has that covered.”

“I’ll bet,” Jyn muttered, before pulling the comm out of her ear and attempting to manually patch it through to any of their base ships up with the main rebel fleet. She just had to hope that she got lucky and for one moment she thought she had – but then she heard a bunch of voices all yelling over each other in amongst a lot of shaky static. She almost tried a different frequency…

Except.

“Shit, shit, someone’s trying to contact the ship!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“BACK UP CAN’T COME TO THE COMM RIGHT NOW.”

Why did that sound a hell of a lot like –

Oh.

Fuck no.

“Like you’re all going to be,” Jyn suddenly snarled down the comm. “Unless you all tell me where the hell you are right now.”

Silence down the comm. Aden stared at her weirdly, before slamming the butt of his blaster into a ‘trooper’s helmet.

“Oh fuck,” the unmistakable voice of Lahrin said.

“OH FUCK SOUNDS ABOUT RIGHT,” Jyn yelled. “What the HELL are you all doing? Why aren’t you with Cassian – WHERE ARE YOU – you’re all being black-carded!”

“Shit, we really are in trouble now,” Neera’s trembling voice put out there.

“NEERA – HOW MANY OF YOU –?”

“There’s only the six of us!” Lahrin insisted.

“FOR THE RECORD,” there was a loud scraping noise before Rivi’s voice thundered in, like she’d just knocked something over in her haste to explain herself. “THIS WASN’T MY IDEA.”

“Yeah, you just encouraged it.”

“Vance, I’m breaking up with you.”

Jyn didn’t have the goddamn time for this. Her kids were apparently up there somewhere, not safe on a planet systems away, but right in the thick of the battle. They could be fucking shot out of the sky, what the HELL were they thinking –

“Look, we will handle how much trouble you are all in later!” Jyn barked. Much to her inconvenience, she noticed an AT-AT making its way closer to where she was, and even Aden couldn’t hold that off. They sprinted together through the underbrush as Jyn carried on, “I need to speak to whoever is in charge of whatever shuttle you’ve all apparently stolen!”

“We didn’t steal it!”

“We just – hitched a ride?”

“But anyway,” Geron called out, clearly a bit further away since his voice was more tinny than the others. “That’s gonna be a bit of a problem since our only pilot kind of just fell unconscious.”

Cassian was going to get an earful about this later.

“What the hell happened?”

“We only wanted to help,” Lahrin insisted. “So we fudged the numbers of the flight manifest so that we’d get put on a different shuttle and convince the pilot to come back.”

“And that worked?”

“When we stole his blaster, yeah.”

“You are all dead meat. Continue.”

“Well, we got back but we got hit,” Lahrin said. “The shuttle isn’t too compromised, but the pilot hit his head.”

“Wait, then who the hell is flying?”

“Vance.”

Honestly, these kids were going to be the death of her. They were naturally only doing what they had been taught, which was to always do the right thing and a part of her couldn’t help but even be a little impressed. Of course Vance could figure out how to fly an unknown shuttle with only an indecipherable instruction manual and his own limited knowledge learned on his own time. Of course Lahrin managed to fudge a ship manifest. Next, Jessa would be using her slicing skills to –

“Ok,” Jyn shook her head. “Ok, ok, ok. Hold on one moment, let me just–” She had to shoot her way across a clearing, Aden covering her back. She kicked at a Stormtrooper that was attempting to shake off the Ewok on its back and quickly dove into the brush on the other side. “I’m back,” she said down the shaky comm line once more. “Now listen to me, you little shits. I need Jessa, I’m assuming she got roped into this too?”

“I’m here,” the seventeen-year-old’s voice was quivering and she wasn’t surprised. This was the same girl who had broken down in her arms when Malia had died.

“Good,” Jyn said. “Jessa, we have to open the doors to the control centre that the shield is operated from, but they’ve been deadbolted. I need you to slice in remotely, I know you know how to do that–”

“Using this shuttle’s equipment?!” Jessa said in a panic. “Jyn, I can’t–”

“YES, YOU CAN, because this entire damn plan is counting on it!” Jyn said. “JESSA, listen to me, I know you’re scared. I know you probably only got dragged along on this hare-brained scheme because you’re the oldest and you felt like you had to protect the others, but you are strong. You are brave, and you can do this.”

For a long moment, she heard nothing but static that occasionally cut back into the frequency. She could hear the insisting beeping that told her that Leia was no doubt waiting on another line, but she already knew what she wanted. She had to believe that Jessa could do this. Her skills had already surpassed what Jyn had been capable of herself when she was younger –

“Ok, I’m gonna try,” Jessa said.

She did. And the second that Leia stopped trying to get through, Jyn knew that her kids had done it.

[kyunsies]

Hello Mädch ahsdjaksdh <3 !!

how is college going? dw, I hope you are settling in super well and feeling optimistic about school and all the amazing things I know you are going to achieve this year! I am excited that you are starting your rotations now! you are going to do awesome, I know it! I'm sorry that you didn't get that ICU first like you wanted but hopefully it's all part of the plan so that you get it at the right time for you <3 let me know how they go, of course. I hope they go super well.

the week has been a bit weird to be honest, in my team I had a semi argument that was properly tense for the first time with someone and it was just so unpleasant. you know those people where they aren't horrible but you know that you'll never completely see eye to eye with them? i think it's just one of those things, where we'll never just completely read each other or get each other? and it's not, like, a massive issue or anything that we can't deal with, but I feel like usually I get on really well with people or not at all (all or nothing person I guess haha) but with this person I've just got to admit that we're always going to be a bit in the middle? like, we talked it over, and I've still found sometimes we misunderstand one another? so things are still good in work and clients, but with workpeople it has been the more difficult battle? hopefully we should get some more cool media stuff with the K-pop people soon, so that's an up?

OMGsh your coworkers are so much older than you! [lease do post a picture of your room, I am 100% confident that you have made it so dreamy and pretty. Thank you sm for telling me more about these operations though! I feel like everywhere is on red alert at the moment when it comes to health and care and making sure that people look after themselves and not put others at risk, you know? the doctors that to talk to me about my potential surgeries too have said the same but it's nice hearing it from a friend, you know? so thank youuuu <3 <3

I was the same as you, I would get so so so anxious and stressed if I wasn't studying or working or anything like that? but my mum is like your mum and grandma, where she gets up early too! but I feel like I need to do the late night thing instead? but then once I got into this crazy spiral where I would wake up really early and go to bed really late and like nap in between so I ended up like having two hours of sleep either side? that was peak wth at the time haha XD so now I try and let myself wake up a bit later really XD ha ha I'm in barely adulting! like I work so much but I don't earn a lot ha ha – I don't think that's very effective adulting? or like, I don't know I guess for a lot of people my age there's a work hard and hope it pays off thing in certain industries? so you're definitely more effectively adulting than me right now! like, you're going to do stuff that's gonna actively help people and you'll see that right in front of you, you know!!? sometimes my work gets out there but I rarely see directly if it gets to make peoples lives better you know? so the path you're on is so so admirable <3 <3 <3

I get you though, do you find that you thrive under the pressure even though it's sometimes a lot? I find that sometimes it does help me, but sometimes I forget to identify the times when it isn't helping me? or, sometimes I take it too far? so please look out for yourself and take care of yourself <3 and when you're worried if you're on the edge know that it's enough for you to take a rest and not be super perfect. i sometimes tell myself to except that I'm probably gonna make two or three stupid mistakes a day? It sounds kind of silly but it means that it makes it easier for me to accept when I mess up, idk, I think it helps me balance the pressure sometimes? i 100% understand what you're saying - at school do they have people that can directly help? or like peer supporters so it's not as stressful or official feeling as a therapist? if you ever want me to come off anon to help lemme know <3 i'm always here for you <3

oh my gosh your grandparents have been able to live long too! all my grandparents lived close to 100 before passing, and one of my grandmothers had the same as your grandfather. he sounds so sweet and so kind though! i love that he knows how to FaceTime you! Some of my aunts and uncles still don't properly haha. it sounds like he knows that he's super loved though, he's very lucky <3 <3 i've been thinking about all this really lovely stuff and how it grounds you when stuff like careers can stress you out and feel like the most important thing when it shouldn't be? what are the personality differences between the different areas of the US? my East Coast friends seem to straight talk a lot more than my West Coast friends? like they're a lot more realistic as opposed to being, I don't know laid-back or if not laid-back sometimes just more comfortable with superficial stuff? Not like my West Coast friends are superficial people, but I think they accept it as part of the world a bit better? my friends on the east coast will rail against that stuff a lot more, like they buy into the influencer bullshit less? but I guess these are all sweeping generalisations anyway... I might have to travel a bit in europe soon... I got asked to go to otaly for some work today, and to holland next month. Idk if it will end up happening though, things change all the time? I have to keep checking quarantine rules all the time with countries! but YAY and YES Europe tour trip one day :D !!!!!!!

you know what? when I first saw you compare bowling and golf I was like, wait, what? but now I totally get it! i know a golfer and they talk about how physical and strenuous it is on the arms and stuff all the time which I don't think always comes across when you watch it and it makes a lot of sense with how you describe how you trained for bowling! i used to cox in rowing and I always used to find it really funny that I said that was the sport I did because honestly I just sat in the boat all the time and steered XD

obligatory YES WTF ARE COTTON SCENTS! quite a few shops in the city where I live have been closing down because of Covid but our Jo Malone is still going strong! I love that lots of already classic clothing shops have now gone out of business but for some reason the people where I live cannot live without their perfume XD I think I'm gonna go in later this week or next week to take a look! with all this travelling I kind of want to buy something new? also, my hands have been acting up with injury so I have to rest my hands more anyway – so might as well look for perfume right? do you have any recommendations or would the blueberry one you've just gotten be at the top of your list?

the exciting thing is that I'm doing a bit less this week! I need to wait and see if that job wants me to fly out to Italy within the next 48 hours, if not next week, but if not I think I'm gonna figure out how to rehabilitate my joints a bit and get my brain okay? It's been existential Covid crisis week haha - I think a lot of me and my friends have been feeling like we've lost so much of our lives and potential during this time and I've really tried to hold in and ignore it for the past 18 months? i'm not one to ever feel lonely or to really really want to be in a relationship like some of my friends, but I've just been feeling it this week? like, I love my independence, but I wouldn't say no to a boyfriend right now you know? I feel silly saying that sometimes because I'm so against feeling like you have to have someone in your life to be okay, but I guess that's just a result of how the world is has been recently?? but I think all my feelings exploded around this stuff now so, I am trying to get back into a better place? so it's not as exciting as some of the stuff I've told you about before, but it's what's up I guess?

how are your mum and grandmother doing? are they doing good? [lease send all my love to them too. I'm glad these help you reflect on your week! they do with me too and I'm always happy to hear from you, no matter how long you might need <3 <3 hope you manage to reward yourself for working so hard these past days and that you remember you're always doing 110% so you deserve the best!

love you lots and lots - 💥

ANGEL HELLO !!!!!!!!! i told myself i would stay on top of this and swear in a timely manner but ;_____; a full week + 2 clinical rotations later here i am on a sunday, it seems this is always the case :( maybe my get back to you day will only be on sundays LOL i will try my best in the future babe, but ofc thank you so much for being patient with me <3

uni is going fine so far hun !!!! i've started clinical rotations as i've said on thursday and friday, and then my first exam is on tuesday so i read some chapters yesterday so i'm not squished for time lol :) and ,,,, what you said "hope it's all part of the plan" is very much my way of thinking lol wha is your sign? i'm a sagittarius and that's like, a philosophy i go by like everything is how it's supposed to be even if it's not what u want like everything will work itself out :') i'm wondering if we are one in the same !!!!! <3

and omg ;_____; conflict within the workplace is NEVER easy bc all everyone wants is to reach the goal you all are reaching and bc there's some bumps in the road it makes everything that much more stressful :( and i know exactly the type of person you are talking about LOL i've had to work with some of my peers in the hospital who really didn't treat me all that nicely , but i still have to partner up with them anyways bc we had to move a patient lol ; like they never do anything terrible to you but you just cannot come to a proper agreement with them? i know the feeling :( but i can tell you are doing ur absolute best ;_____; it's a tough situation ,,,,,,,,, but may i propose something ??? maybe since things are high stress in the workplace, would u be willing to meet them outside the workplace, like a quick coffee meet up and then discuss those issues? maybe talking about it in the work environment is way too stressful for both of u and it is hard to come to an agreement, but maybe in a calmer, more informal setting do u think maybe the both of u could be like "hey, what u were talking about i'm not really head over heels for but this is what i think and do u think we can do something where both of us will be happy?" im thinking maybe will opening up a means for more civilized discussion?? just a thought LOL :') let me know how it goes :( i hope u are all able to figure everything out !!!!!

about the surgeries !!!!! like i said i know it's super stressful to think about bc this is one of the very few times in life where things are absolutely out of our control and that scares us, and we as medical providers aren't supposed to give u a false sense of security, but i promise u everything will be just fine as long as u correctly follow up with care post-op :) we wouldn't want an infection !!!! >;( i remember last year i had a patient and she was going in for a routine colonoscopy and she was scared shitless ,,,,,,, but i was like "listen ma'am i know it can seem scary but i was just in there with the doctors and everything is super relaxed and they know what they're doing in there, you'll be out in no time and i'll be here waiting !!" and that seemed to help her a lot, after the surgery she was on me like flies on shit LOL she was like "THANK U HONEY" (but i think most of it was bc she was still drugged up hhh)

LOL us with our family members waking up early <3 literally this morning i decided to do my laundry at 8am (its only 10 right right now lol) but idk it just make u feel a little bit better doesn't it? but oh my gosh no i don't see u in this way at all ;_____; babe like you're already THERE in the world working and to me like ,,,,,, being an effective functioning person in society is like all i ever want i just want to be COMPETENT and the fact that u manage ppl ???? it's already a lot of responsibility but you do it everyday like you go to work u make food for yourself u pay bills like yes this all kinda sucks but you're there doing it and idk ,,,,,,,, like u being in this position is like yeah their surviving in the world and doing okay !!!! so that’s how i see u hun ;_____;

and i don’t think i necessarily thrive under pressure but i just kinda ,,,,,,, handle it?? like i think i handle my stress quite well !!! i think the reason why making mistakes scares me so much in my field is bc if i make a mistake i can like, kill someone or seriously harm them if i do something wrong SLKDFJ but i have to remember i’m still just a student and a lot of the things that i’ll learn won’t even be in these last few months of nursing school, but rather during my months of orientation on the floor i’ll be working on when i finally land a job ,,,,,, i know i just have to be patient and kind to myself, but it’s hard not having these high expectations for myself bc everyone else pushes themselves super hard (nurses i mean) so i feel like i should be too , ya know? ;_____; it’s a hard balance that i’ve yet to find but hopefully once i graduate i’ll have just a little bit more confidence in myself :’)

and omg your grandparents lived a long life as well !!!!!!!! a lot of my friends’ grandparents are really young still, so it’s hard for others to relate i think LOL but :(((( i’m really lucky to have them around still and like, i feel like my grandparents are the cornerstone of our whole entire family; once they pass i’m not quite sure what will happen ;_____; so i’m just trying to cherish every moment that i have with them even tho sometimes it’s stressful lol ; also BOUT THE DIFFERENCES FROM EAST TO WEST COAST LOL ; i think u described it really well actually :) like among the friends u have the are from different parts of the states, it’s very accurate in my opinion !! and again after all it is just a very broad assumption, in general east coasters have this “workaholic” attitude, they tend to be very realistic which i actually appreciate a lot lol, i’m hoping to live near the east coast when i move out <3 now where i am from it is considered the midwest even tho it’s more east than west if u look at it on the map LMAO and like, it’s really funny bc if u say to someone you’re from the midwest they’ll tell u our reputation is being “too nice” LSKDLFJSKLD and like that’s our thing, a happy medium between coasts with big cities but small towns too and generally just very chill and nice ,,,,,,,, the south of the US is also known for having that “southern hospitality” overall very cheerful ppl with personality and super kind attitude on life :) now the west of the US i’m not saying there aren’t nice ppl out there bc there are LOL but esp near lost angeles or hollywood ofc you’re going to have ppl very stuck up bc ya know they made it to big bad LA and they want to be trendy with all of the fake health shit (celery juice does NOTHING FOR U sorry lol) generally my view of the west is just very fake and i would never want to have my family grow up there LMAO but that generally like, california and washington but like, utah or wyoming or colorado are just absolutely gorgeous and they have small town ppl there bc there are a lot of ranches there ,,,,,,,, does any of this make sense to u ??? KLASFJ 

i’m going to skip a few paragraphs bc this is so long already LMAO but trust me i’ve read everything so far lol ; it seems like you’re doing a lot of traveling !!!!!! <3 i’m so jealous !!!!!!!! italy sounds so beautiful i would love love to go some day :( ALSO U SMELLED THE BLUEBELL PERFUME RIGHT ???? U LIKED IT ?????? doesn’t it smell absolutely divine??? no matter how many scents i smelled after that i knew it was the right one for me ldkfsdlkfj <3 i’m still so in love with it ;____; also about ur lil rant about feeling lonesome :( bub i can really relate to this and i feel the same way like my mom and the rest of my family never pushed me to meet anyone and i’ve always never had a problem making friends, but like, as i’m older and i realize i’ll be alone a lot more of my time once i graduate like i really do want to share my life with someone :( i have a lot of love and i want to be able to show it to someone i care about a lot but i just never really take the initiative to do that bc quite honestly i’m not confident in myself lMAO so ,,,,,,, i know we never feel like we need to be dependent on someone but sharing experiences with someone who feels very strongly for u seems nice, doesn’t it? i wish this for both of us really soon okay?? <3 i tell my friends i would LOVE to be engaged right now lskdjfslfjs :’)

but anyways !!!!!!!! my mom and the rest of my family is doing well <3 and i’m doing okay too !!!!!! i don’t want to bore u with how clinicals are going but if u want me to tell u just let me know LOL and angel i know i say it all the time but always thank u so much for being patient with me okay? u are the absolute best !!!!!! also as promised, here are a few pics of my dorm room LOL it’s a shoebox but it’s my shoebox :) enjoy !!!!!! 

[moiraineswife]

002 for elucien please 3>

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you: (bc i am slowly sailing away from acotar but i am always a slut for elucien...even if this is super late bc I’m garbage) 

when or if I started shipping it: Actually, I think I accidentally made myself ship it many, many moons ago. When i wandered blindly into this fandom shortly post-ACOMAF there was...a fair amount of Lucien hate floating around (those were Dark Days) and I, being the loud-mouthed, insufferable bastard that I am, took issue with this and made many grumpy posts to the effect of ‘Lucien is a tortured abuse victim, stfu’. Fortunately the hate has mostly died down but when it was Strong elucien was fairly deeply unpopular because people felt that Elain ‘Deserved Better’. I got miffed about that too, so I made a little headcanons post for elucien and just...some nice thoughts and it all kind of....spiralled out of control from there and I made myself aggressively ship them. And that was mostly just me for a little while but then @valamerys appeared (bless u claire) and the rest is history.  

my thoughts: Right this is going to be less ‘thoughts’ abt Elucien and more ‘thoughts’ (read: salt) abt fandom’s response to them post-acowar but I just.....I don’t understand why everyone thinks that they’re doomed and sunk in ACOWAR? No, genuinely, I don’t, like...just timeline wise...Them being canon by the end of ACOWAR didn’t actually make a huge amount of sense, like it would have taken a LOT to get that to happen (especially when spin-offs that would almost certainly, if not focus, at the very least touch on, Elain and Lucien’s relationship post ACOWAR) And if you look at it in a timeline wise and compare it to feyrhys...they’re actually further ahead than they were?? ACOMAF picks up what, three months-ish after the end of ACOTAR? Rhys knows Feyre is his mate for that entire time and does nothing about it. At the beginning of that book Feyre is with, in love with, and actively engaged to another man. They have a damn wedding ffs. It takes months for Feyre to get over Tamlin and to recover from her trauma of her Making, her abusive relationship, and what happened UtM. it takes weeks and weeks before Feyre and Rhys have so much as a friendly conversation with one another. It takes months before there are any romantic feelings, and then it takes even longer for them to actually get together. I think the events of ACOWAR take place in around a month, maybe. If you compare that to feyrhys’s timeline, Feyre is a month into the Spring Court, engaged, with two months to go until her wedding/her meeting Rhys again. At this same point, Elain and Lucien have met, talked with one another, helped one another in their own ways, acknowledged the mating bond between them, shown themselves willing to get to know one another, and it ends with Elain inviting Lucien to come to Velaris and stay there with her. Elain, by the end, also seems much more like her old self, she’s much more in control of her abilities, she wants to grow things and create again, she feels much more full of hope. Lucien, too, is moving on from his toxic past, he has left Tamlin, he is living in the Night Court, where he was invited by Elain, he and Elain now have the time and space and freedom to get to know one another, and it’s only a month into their knowing each other. I have...No idea why this fandom is so certain that there’s no hope for this ship like ??? They’re mates and they haven’t even begun to explore what that means to them because they were busy, you know, having their own lives/plots/obstacles/trauma to overcome first but ???? Anyway. 

What makes me happy about them: They make so much goddamn sense fight me.  I think one of the biggest draws to this ship is that they are mutually so good for one another. I think that they both bring out sides to the other person that need to be drawn out a little. Elain teases out some softness and warmth and gentleness in Lucien, and there’s a lot of that in him, he just doesn’t often feel safe enough around anyone to be that way with them; but he does with her. And Lucien brings out a little of Elain’s spirit, a little of her fire, a little of her fierceness and that deep, unyielding strength that’s always hidden away beneath the surface gets brought to the top and it’s perfect. And I enjoy it even more because of the parallels involved in this thing: Lucien draws out of Elain what he is on the surface, witty, charismatic, fiery and wilful. and Elain draws out of Lucien what she is on the surface: gentle, kind, compassionate, and good. They bring out the best of each other but they also reflect the best of themselves and I just...Could live for years on the sustenance provided by these delicious parallels tbh. And I think there’s an aspect of hope in there with both of them as well, with them being together, I think they bring that to one another. For Lucien, Elain was a flickering light at a point where his life had rarely been darker. She was something worth fighting for; but unlike Tamlin or any of the other situations Lucien has been in, Elain is something that I think makes him fight for himself. Because she’s his mate, and will ultimately make him happy and that’s an end goal there, he’s fighting for their happiness...but in the interim, in the time it takes between then and now...She makes him fight for himself, too. He leaves his toxic position at Spring, he comes to Night, he finds purpose during the war, a role that he takes voluntarily under his own initivative (born from Elain’s visions btw) to help. He’s doing things for himself. He’s bettering his life and his world for himself, and Elain’s mere existence encourages that in him and it’s just like....Yes, okay, give Lucien someone that makes him strive to better himself and his situation, okay good, thank you. But I think that Lucien embodies a little bit of hope for Elain, too. It’s maybe not as obvious or as immediate in canon as it is for Lucien but...It’s there. The first time Elain leaves her room is to go to the library where Lucien is. Lucien suggests having a healer brought to her. Lucien tries to help her through the bond, and gets a reaction out of her. Elain seems constantly to be seeking the sun, and to be seeking Lucien as well. He is one of the very few things that she actually responds to after her making, he is one of the few people who makes her react a little more like her old self. And he is the one who shows faith in her, and her visions, and offers to journey thousands of miles and put himself in danger because he believes in her. And I think that Lucien...Is the future, for Elain. Whether or not Elucien ends up canon, these two are undeniably driving forces in the others’ stories and arcs. Elain is still in love with Greyson and still traumatised by her making but Lucien is the one certain thing about her future now. Whether she accepts or rejects the bond it is something to move towards, something she will have to confront, something that definitely exists and pulls her away from the past and towards the future. This pairing is just...So fucking underrated and it frustrates me because there is so much here and it gets so overlooked and so drowned out by other ships with louder voices in the fandom and it’s a shame, because it’s a little diamond in the rough, there’s so much potential in here and I live for it tbh.

What makes me sad about them: THEY’RE SO GODDAMN UNDERAPPRECIATED IT BOILS MY BLOOD. 

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: Uhh, Elain being with Azriel while Lucien gets forgotten. I’M SORRY I’M TOO FULL OF SALT. And tbh the only Elucien fics I read are Claire’s and...Claire writes them better than sjm soooooooooooo nothing annoys me. 

Things I look for in fanfic: Claire. That is all. 

My kinks: Ehehehehehehe (CLAIRE THIS IS ALL UR FAULT AND U KNOW IT) I think I will just direct u to this fic that Alicia and I wrote. Sums it up rather well, I feel. 

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: They can be in a poly relationship with Andras or nothing at all :) That is my final word on the matter. (no it’s not, I’m here for Cassian/Lucien and Elain/Mor bc Gay) 

My happily ever after for them: Happily mated, in a big house in...a court of their choosing, that has a very large garden that they can sit together in and watch their children run around playing together :)