#anyways. yes i do actually own the shirt i drew myself in (as is standard for me) and yes i did make it in jackbox

[shooks-stupid-stuff]

no bigger birthday art this year (or now, at least) since i was gonna do a big drawing but got hit with other art stuff and general fatigue (dw im just actually working out again and am in the 'man this shit is kicking my ass' phase chbvjcv) i cannot believe i'm fucking 20. what the hell. where did my youth go- anyways happy birthday me i guess lol

[nitewrighter]

So I just read your answer to an ask about Pre-fall Genji and Mercy (The one where Genji watches Mercy fly in the practice range/Moira berates Genji while healing him or smthn) and I love it! Any chance we could get a short follow-up where Genji (eventually) tells Mercy what happened on the mission/what happened coming back from the mission?

Ah, referring back to this fic?

Well the thing about Moira is that in my fic continuity, the cover story for Moira is that Overwatch pushed her to resign after that scandal with her paper, and her involvement with Blackwatch was kept largely secret, even from Mercy, up until my pre-retribution fic. So when Moira was a problem for Genji, he couldn’t really talk about it with Mercy due to Overwatch and Blackwatch’s own fucked up compartmentalization. So after Retribution there was a bit of an elephant in the room. Also Genji’s comments during Retribution and Reyes going “The Ninja agrees with me!” are.... oof. And... whoops the “let me explain what happened/clearing the air” prompt turned into an argument.

Welp. Not all those late-night chats were easy...

----

The knock on the door of the lab caught Mercy mid-yawning stretch. It was still early in the evening at Zurich headquarters, lavender twilight light bleeding over the mountain peaks out her window. Still early enough for it to be pretty much anyone who let this work chew up as much of their personal life as hers. Ana, she thought, heading to the door, About the updated humanitarian projects in Giza, probably. Or maybe Sarioglu about the inoculations on the Siberian--

The door slid open and Genji was standing before her in a loose gray long-sleeved shirt, not his usual Blackwatch hoodie. His arms were folded against himself, his shoulders tucked slightly inwards. He stood up a little straighter as the door opened.

“Doctor Ziegler,” he said her name almost with some surprise, as if she had suddenly materialized in front of him rather than been working in the same lab they had spent countless nights chatting in before.

“...It’s been a while, Genji,” she tried to make her voice warm, but wasn’t sure what he was here for. The dust was almost beginning to settle from the Venice incident, but she had seen virtually nothing of him since that painful exchange in the rec room. The Venice incident itself was still being picked over in longer term publications, and it would definitely keep giving all the news outlets investigative journalism fodder for months to come, but Blackwatch was suspended and a significant amount of its resources had been re-allocated to other Overwatch departments for the duration of its suspension, which was enough for most news outlets to let it drift to the side in favor of more recent events.

There were a few seconds where he seemed to be gathering his thoughts before he said, “I can go if you’re busy--” He wasn’t making eye contact.

“N-no--” her fingers tensed on the doorframe, “I mean...” she moved aside slightly, “I wouldn’t mind the company.”

His eyes met hers and softened for.a few seconds before he caught himself and shuffled into the room, as if the offer might be rescinded. As he had gotten more used to his prosthetics and more settled in with Blackwatch, he had come to carry himself with what some might call grace--a grace that was heavily overshadowed and sharpened by the smoldering anger in his eyes and asymmetry of his prosthetics, but a grace that still spoke to his years of physical and mental conditioning with the Shimada clan. Now, however, his movements were smaller, clumsier even---reminding her almost of their early days of physical therapy and his flinching self-containment, the way he would shrink inside hoodies and skulk in corners.

“So... what are you up to tonight?” he asked, looking around the lab. 

“Just some correspondence,” Mercy shrugged, “There’s... been a lot.”

Piles and piles of emails from former colleagues and activists furious at the fact that I continue to associate myself with Overwatch after this scandal, she thought, And maybe I could deal with them all by releasing a personal statement, but how much of that would just come off as me trying to save face while throwing Overwatch under the bus?

“Not about Venice?” Genji stiffened a little where he stood

“Yes, about Venice,” she folded her arms, her gaze was steady and tired.

“But---that’s not fair. Nothing we did there had anything to do with you--” Genji was genuinely confused.

“Blackwatch is still Overwatch’s responsibility,” said Mercy, “And if there was evidence of weaponized biotics on site, naturally people have questions for me and, of course,” a huffing, uncomfortable chuckle escaped her, “Everything I stand for in working for Overwatch.” 

Genji’s thick eyelashes lowered over the red of his eyes in a combination of frustration and guilt. “I... meant to talk to you about that when I got back...”

Mercy’s shoulders slumped as she turned back to her chair and sat down in it.

“How long was Moira on your team?” she said quietly.

“She... joined about two months after Jack made her tender her resignation,” said Genji, “I was with Reyes the night he recruited her.” 

Mercy’s lips thinned and she wasn’t looking at him. “So... how did it work? Would she just... cartoonishly avoid being seen by hiding behind vending machines? Dipping around corners?”

“I never actually saw much of her in Zurich or Rome. Reyes usually had her working remotely at a black site. The attack on Rome forced us to bring her into Zurich for her own safety and for our response to the attack.”

“So the resignation was all just theater to put her somewhere where she would have even less oversight and accountability,” Mercy’s lips were pulling back from her teeth in frustration.

“I... don’t really know the specifics of it,” said Genji.

Mercy was silent at this, sitting with her hands in her lap. 

“Angela,” he said her name and she looked up at him, “Believe me, if it weren’t for Blackwatch’s procedures, I would have told you. There were so many times I wanted to tell you---”

So many times I wanted you to help... he thought.

“Jack knew?” Mercy said quietly.

“He knew, to an extent,” said Genji, “To be fair, even McCree and I didn’t really know what she was doing at the black site... I suppose we also didn’t want to know.”

“And everyone’s been letting her tinker with my biotics doing god-knows-what to them and then leaving that ugly smear of what was once my work at the site of an act of--of---I don’t know what to call it--Extrajudicial murder?”

“Angela...” he brought up his prosthetic hand, apparently with the intention of putting it on her shoulder, but seemed to think better of it and drew it close to himself, “If I had known Reyes’s actions would impact you like this---”

“So Reyes’s actions are only wrong because they’re negatively impacting me,” said Mercy flatly, “Not because, I don’t know, it’s utterly horrific to shoot someone in the face while in the process of making an arrest?”

Genji was taken slightly aback by her bitterness. Then again... there was a decent chance she had been dealing with whatever angry emails from people all over the world who wanted her to answer for Blackwatch’s actions for several days now. But Blackwatch did the right thing, didn’t it?

“Antonio’s weapons trafficking with Talon was probably killing far more people than that...” Genji floated the words out there, assuming they might calm her down, “If it meant stopping him--”

“’Probably?’” Mercy’s voice was incredulous. She huffed, trying to process, “That-that’s not how this works, Genji. That’s not how the law is supposed to work. You don’t kill people on ‘Probablies!’” 

“The law wouldn’t have worked with him anyway. He bragged that he had allies who would get him out within the week.” 

“That doesn’t mean you kill him!”

“I didn’t kill him, Reyes did! I just--!” Genji huffed, the sound was metallic behind his faceplate, “Look, the Shimada clan are weapons traffickers, too. I know what kind of person we were dealing with.”

“It doesn’t matter what kind of person he is, what matters is the proper procedures! If Overwatch can’t hold itself to those standards, then we can’t call ourselves peacekeepers!” 

“Reyes brought me on the team because I’m an assassin,” Genji’s voice was unsettlingly even.

“You were brought on the team because you have unique intel and skills---”

“From being raised to be an assassin,” there was a smoldering frustration in Genji now, stepping toward Mercy, “Don’t confuse what you want me to be with what I am.” 

Mercy seemed to visibly wince at this. She glared up into his red eyes, her own gray-blue eyes bloodshot from staring at her screens. “Don’t confuse who you are with what’s convenient for Reyes,” she said darkly, “If you don’t see anything wrong with what Reyes did, then Jack suspending Blackwatch was the best call he could make.”

Genji’s skin was burning with fury beneath his faceplate. “Oh and I’m just supposed to sit on my hands and watch the Shimada clan continue to kill people because Blackwatch has to be suspended for Reyes’ mistake.”

“Yes, Genji! That’s how accountability works!” Mercy was wringing her hands. 

“So you’re willing to let--You weren’t-- you have no idea what I-- You--!” Genji was stumbling over his words, his anger seemed to be mashing the ability to translate in his head down into an angry pulp of Japanese with a few english swear words peppered in. He took a sharp seething inhale. “You know what? I’m leaving.”

“Fine!” Mercy threw the word after him as he turned on his heel and stepped out the door of the lab. 

He snarled with frustration beneath his faceplate as he quickly walked down the hall. Folding his arms tight across himself as he stepped into the elevator.

She doesn’t know, she wasn’t there so she has no right to talk about it like... Genji’s organic fingers squeezed on his prosthetic arm, Like... 

He took another breath. Fine, he thought, It’s fine. I’m sick of her acting like I’m anything other than... he looked at his prosthetic hand and realized he was shaking. He closed his fingers into a fist before stepping out of the elevator, still walking, angrily and quickly through the Blackwatch offices towards his own quarters. save for the small lights lining the pathways between desks and offices, Blackwatch was virtually pitch-black.

“Trouble in paradise?” a low melodious voice sounded across the underground offices and Genji flinched to see Moira barely illuminated by the multiple screens of Reyes’s main intel computer, holding a tablet in one hand and a lowball glass of whiskey in the other. She was donning that horn-like reverse biofeed, apparently lazily scrolling through some lab work. Shouldn’t the UN have seized it with the suspension? thought Genji.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Genji said curtly before continuing to walk.

“Personally I like when she gets all sanctimonious while Overwatch is actively screwing her over,” Moira looked back down at her tablet before sipping her whiskey. Genji stopped walking. “Reminds me of those little dogs yapping on the ends of leashes, and then their owners just get tired of them and scoop them up... and there’s a life story in 10 seconds. No power to begin with and all you can do is bark and bark--”

“If you talk about Doctor Ziegler like that again, you’ll--” Genji caught himself.

“Ah. So you were haunting her door,” Moira’s eyebrows raised with some amusement.

“You don’t know,” said Genji, stiffly.

“I know you’re easy to read,” said Moira, not even looking up from her tablet, “And I know we’re all slaves to habit. So what happened?”

“Nothing I’m sharing with you,” said Genji walking forward.

“That’s fine,” Moira kept scrolling through her tablet as Genji walked past her.

She was only a few steps behind him when she spoke up again. “I understand how deeply it stings, when you realize you’re not the person someone built up in their head.”

Genji paused again, his shoulders bunching up, and he glanced back at her.

“But I’ve also always had great admiration for those who know exactly who and what they are. I like to think it’s why Blackwatch was as efficacious as it was.... despite... some personality clashes,” she gave an easy shrug.

Genji was silent for a few seconds. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m only saying that you have my sympathy for finally understanding the difference between those up there,” she nodded up to the ceiling, to the upper levels of Overwatch, “And those of us down here.” 

Something prickled in Genji then. He remembered the weight of his father’s hands on his shoulders, saying, You have to understand, this is who we are. And Genji tensed then. 

“You’re not alone, Genji, that’s all I’m saying,” said Moira, sipping her whiskey.

“Good night, Moira,” was all Genji managed to say as he walked off.

[prettyyoungandbored]

Becoming Mrs. Wayne [The Dark Knight] Four

Pairing: Christian Bale!Bruce Wayne x OC

Summary: Demetria Gallagher knew her cozy life would change the second she became engaged to Bruce Wayne. But what she doesn’t know is she’s getting more than what she agreed to. (I am trash at summaries.)

Warning: None

Taglist: @dragonballluver (Let me know if you want to be tagged in this!)

Previous

“27 down is ‘falafel.” 

Alfred looked up, shooting a glare at Demetria. Her lips curved into a childish grin. 

“The bloody hell is a falafel?” he asked, unamused at the word. 

“It’s a fried ball made up of chickpeas and beans. It’s actually delicious.” 

He shook his head. “You Americans and your fried food.” He returned his gaze back down to the Gotham City crossword. Demetria snuck another glance at the crosswords, looking for another one she knew right off the bat. 

“14 across is ‘David Cassidy.’” 

The old man shot her another dirty look. She shrugged her shoulders, desperately trying to hold in her laugh. “I’m sorry.” 

Across the yacht, Bruce shifted his attention from the newspaper he was reading and watched the two with an amused smile on his lips. None of the girls he ever brought home acknowledged Alfred (with the obvious exception of Rachel) and if they did it was to ask for something. Demetria had made an effort to get to know and befriend the old man, knowing how much Alfred meant to Bruce. Their friendship and playful banter was something Bruce could get used to for years and years to come. 

Demetria made eyes with Bruce and walked over to him, her white babydoll dress blowing with the wind. She pat his legs, motioning him to scooch over. He obliged and she curled up against him, propped up on his lap.

“You looked a little lonely over here,” she said. 

He smirked. “You pushed Alfred to his breaking point, didn’t you?”

“I forget how seriously that man takes his crossword puzzles.” 

The couple chuckled as Demetria played with Bruce’ slick back hair. The salty aroma filled her nose as the noise of waves crashing against the yacht filled her ears. 

“Feels so good out here,” she sighed. “Definitely one of your better ideas.”

“My better ideas? Since when did I ever have an idea that wasn’t good?”

“The one time you took me to that new restaurant and I got food poisoning.” 

He laughed, the memory coming back to him. She refused to let him see her in such a state, but he came over anyway to make sure she was hydrated and functioning. 

Needless to say, they never went back there and he owed her big time.

Bruce lifted the newspaper up and continued reading, Demetria reading along with him. 

“Anything interesting going on back home?” she asked. 

“Nothing but the usual mobster activity and an editorial piece about the overwhelming amount of Batman copycats.” 

She hummed. “I can’t help but wonder if Batman feels bad about the copycats.”

“I’m sure it gets annoying after awhile.”

“Do you think he feels responsible for them?”

There are times he wants to tell her he’s Batman, but he wants to keep her away from that part of him. He’s been successful so far, why bother bringing her into it now?

Then she changed the subject.

“What’s this?” She pointed at a section of the paper. “‘Witnesses say clown robbed downtown city bank?’”

Bruce took a quick glance at it. “Must be about that bank robbery downtown from yesterday.” He looked over at her to find a disgusted look on her face. “What?”

“I just...clowns...ugh.” She shivered. “Doesn’t sit well with me.”

“You’re afraid of clowns?”

“How could you not be? They’re creepy. Didn’t you ever see ‘It’ or ‘Poltergeist’?”

He chuckled. “They’re not that bad.”

“Well they scare the shit out of me.”

“So I should cancel the clown I hired for our wedding?”

She slapped his arm. “You’re an ass.”

Bruce set down the newspaper. “Speaking of the wedding, I was wondering if you had any ideas or preferences in terms of location?”

She shook her head. “Zero. You?”

He cleared his throat. “I was thinking Wayne Manor.”

Her eyes lit up, a huge smile slapped across her face. “I would love that!”

“Really?” He cocked his head back.

“Yeah! I mean the property is beautiful, plus it’s something that would be comfortable and simple for us.” 

“You’re sure you want to do it at Wayne Manor?” Bruce asked. 

She ran her fingers through his hair. “Babe, we could go to city hall and get it done and I would still be the happiest woman alive. I don’t care how we get married, I just want to be with you.”

While he never needed a reminder of why he loved her, it was times like these that did. He’d never come out and say it, but underneath the wealth and the vanity he used to mask an protect his true self, he valued the simple things that money could never buy. Demetria shared those same values. Both longed for a quiet and intimate life together which was more than enough. 

“I only ask two things,” Demetria said. 

“Anything.” 

“One, we plan this together. This our day, not just mine and not just yours. It’s ours.” 

“Not an issue at all.” 

“Two, this wedding is as small as possible.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. “It’s done deal.” 

As they leaned in for a kiss, the sounds of the helicopter landing drew their attention from each other. They watched as it made a graceful landing. 

“The plan has arrived for you sir!” Alfred called out. 

Demetria pat Bruce’s knee as she got up. “Have fun breaking off this deal in China.” 

Bruce threw off his white shirt, handing it to her.  He grabbed the duffle bag and threw it overboard. 

“Please be careful, Bruce.” 

“For you, I will.”

He gave her a quick kiss before diving into the water. She watched as he swam over to the helicopter before climbing aboard.

She watched as the helicopter flew away before turning to Alfred. 

“What number are we on, Alfred?” 

“Eighteen across. The clue is ‘Get your own bloody crossword.’” 

_____________________________________________________________

A couple days later, Demetria found herself at the entrance to St. Swithin’s Home For Boys. She was grateful the orphanage had taken her call and allowed her to come visit. 

She made her way to front desk area, smoothing out her pants. She smiled at the elderly nun at the desk. 

“Hi, I’m Demetria Gallagher,” she greeted. 

The nun smiled back. “Hello there! We’ve been expecting you! My name is Sister Agatha. You’re here for the tour, correct?” 

“Yes! I was hoping to speak with the Mother Superior or Monsignor O’Malley.” 

“Unfortunately both were unable to make it due to prior commitments; however, they asked that Sister Mary Ellen give you the tour.” 

“Sounds great!”

“Please a seat while I phone her.” 

Demetria sat in the bench across from the desk, eyeing around the orphanage. It’s old age was definitely showing. She made mental notes of the broken down wood, the cracks in the wall, and the lingering dust. Her mother would love a project like this. 

“Miss Gallagher?” 

Demetria looked up to find a nun in her late thirties with kind brown eyes and a welcoming smile. “My name is Sister Mary Ellen. How do you do?” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Demetria said reaching out her hand. 

Sister Mary Ellen shook it. “A pleasure to meet you as well. We’re so excited you’ve taken an interest in the orphanage.” 

“Bruce has told me so much about this place and I’ve always wanted to come see it for myself.” 

“The Wayne Family is such a big part of the orphanage’s history. Bruce has been so generous to us in the past.” 

Sister Mary Ellen first took her to the library, named in memory of Martha, Bruce’s mother. Despite it’s broken state, the walls were covered in old books stacked in the shelves. 

“Not a lot of boys spend time in here,” Sister Mary Ellen said. “We’ve been trying to get them to, but some are harder to persuade than others.” 

“Understandable,” Demetria assured.

Next was the kitchen, then the chapel, and then some of the dorms. While the building was historic, its structure and the components inside were out of date and almost out of function. 

There were a a good amount of kids staying in and they deserved a better home. 

“May I ask you something?” Sister Mary Ellen questioned. 

“Of course.” 

“There’s been a lot of talk amongst the nuns about what it is you plan to do and I just...well...what is your intention exactly?” 

Demetria chuckled. “It’s ok. I can completely understand the curiosity.” She sighed. “Bruce has always told me how much this place has meant to him, especially after the death of his parents. I know it’s hard for Bruce to give attention to this place and so I wanted to step in and make sure you’re getting not only what you and the boys need, but what you deserve. You all deserve to be living in better conditions and I can guarantee you Bruce agrees with me.” 

“What is it you can do for us?” Sister Mary Ellen asked. 

“My mother works as an interior designer and would be more than happy to help redecorate. I also know a lot of people who can help make sure this place is functioning properly and is up to all health code standards. I want to make sure you all are taken care of and are given the attention you all deserve.” 

Sister Mary Ellen couldn’t help but smile. “What about finances? I know the monsignor and Mother Superior would ask to be kept apprised.” 

“They would be. That’s something I’m currently working on, but I want to know what I’m at least working with here.” She smiled. “Although, my mother would do this for free. I know that for certain.” 

Sister Mary Ellen chuckled. “Let me take you outside.” 

She led Demetria to playground where Demetria noticed four boys playing basketball. She couldn’t help but notice that no matter how hard they tried to dunk the ball in the chain basket, they kept missing. 

“May I?” Demetria asked. 

“By all means.” 

Demetria made her way over to the boys. One boy had black hair with blue eyes, another was African-American with glasses, another boy had blonde hair and freckles, and one with brown hair with glasses.   

“Hey guys!” Demetria greeted.

The boys stopped and looked at her. “You guys playing basketball?” 

They looked at each other, confused and unsure what to say. She cleared her throat. “My name’s Demetria.” 

“I’m Travis,” the boy with black hair said. 

“I’m Jonathan,” the African-American boy said. 

“I’m Reid,” the boy with blonde hair said. 

“I’m Harry,” the boy with brown hair said. 

“Nice to meet you all,” Demetria said. “So what are we playing here? One-on-one or Horse?”

“Just some one-on-one,” Reid answered with a shrug. 

“You know how to play?” Harry asked. 

“A little. My dad was a high school basketball coach so he taught me a few things. Can I see the ball?” 

Travis passed her the ball. She dribbled it for a bit before shooting the ball into the basket. The boys stared in amazement, letting out some “whoa”s. 

“Alright, so who wants to be able to dunk a ball?” she asked. 

They all raised their hands. “That’s exactly what I thought. Ok so watch my hands.” 

She picked up the ball and demonstrated the throw with her hand. “See the way my hand curves, like I’m flicking my wrist? Try that.” 

Reid took the ball first. He dribbled the ball before throwing it up. The ball went through the basket. The boys cheered. 

“See? That was awesome!” Demetria said. She held up her hand for a high five which he reciprocated. “Alright, who’s next?” 

Harry went up and threw the ball, making it into the basket. 

“Way to go dude!” Demetria cheered, the two high diving. “Who’s next?” 

Jonathan went up and threw the ball, the ball circling the basket before falling off. Demetria caught it and threw it back to him, seeing the dejected look on his face. 

“You almost got it. Try again.” She smiled at him. 

He gave her a nod. He tossed the ball up, this time the ball landing into the basket. The boys and Demetria cheered. 

“See! You got it!” she said. 

They high fived and Jonathan passed the ball to Travis. Travis dribbled before the ball hit the back of the basket. The ball came back toward him as he caught it, tossed it again and then tossed the ball inside the basket. 

The other boys and Demetria cheered. 

“Ok, ok,” Demetria said. “Now you guys trying playing.” 

The boys then began playing one-on-one, Demetria coaching them and cheering them on. She couldn't help but feel her dad would be proud of her. Sure, she wasn’t an athlete, but she learned a lot from watching him coach from the sidelines all these years. 

She then saw Reid pass the ball to her. “Your turn,” he told her. 

She smiled. “Alright.” 

She dribbled the ball before tossing it into the basket. She grabbed the ball and said, “Who’s next?”

“What’s going on here?” 

Demetria turned around to see Bruce walking over. Her smile grew. “Just playing some basketball.” 

She watched as the boys’ eyes stayed on Bruce, wide in amazement and wonder. He acknowledged them with a warm smile before gazing at Demetria. 

“Tell me, boys, how she doing?” he asked. 

The responded, each voice overlapping the other. 

“She’s pretty good.” 

“She’s good.” 

“Pretty good.”

“Good.”

Demetria tossed the ball to Bruce as he caught it in his hands. “Let’s see you’ve got, Wayne,” she challenged playfully. 

“Those are fighting words,” he responded, dribbling the ball a bit. 

He turned his back to her and tossed the ball as it went into the basket. The boys cheered and clapped as Bruce turned to her, throwing his hands up. 

She folded her arms across her chest. “It was just a lucky shot.” 

Bruce looked over to one of the boys. “Can I have the ball, please?” They tossed him the ball. He showed it to Demetria. “Why don’t you try and steal it, Gallagher?” 

Demetria went over to him as he lifted the ball from her. She jumped, spiking it from his hands. Jonathan caught it and tossed it back to her. She went to shoot it into the basket when Bruce spiked it out of her her hand and picked her up swinging her around. 

“Are you kidding me?! I almost had it!” Demetria screamed. 

It was then something caught her eye. A figure watching them from across the street. 

“Hold on, hold on,” she told Bruce. 

He stopped, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s wrong?” 

“Give me a sec. I think I see something.” 

She walked toward the gate, getting a closer look at the figure. It was a caucasian male with a black baseball cap that said ‘Gotham Times’ on it and a tee and jeans with a bulky vest. Across his neck, a camera. 

“What the hell are you doing?” she called out to him. “There’s kids here!” 

The man reached up to his camera as she continued to get closer. 

“Stop it!” she growled. “Stop!

Bruce rushed over to her, pulling her away. “Demetria, don’t.”

She turned to him. “He’s photographing the kids! He can’t be doing that!” 

“Listen, we’ll take care of this when we get home,” he told her. “Right now, just ignore him. The more you go after him, the worse it’s going to be.” 

She ran a hand through her hair. “There has to be a line drawn, Bruce.” 

“We’ll take care of it home, alright?” 

She nodded her head. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be.” He kissed her forehead. “You were protecting the kids. It’s gonna be ok. We’ll fix this.” 

He rubbed her arms. “Let’s go back, ok?” 

“Ok.” 

She took one more look at the photographer before walking away. Bruce had a point, they were going to take care of it. 

She was going to take care of it. 

[justkeeptrekkin]

Not making this too specific because there's a lot of fun directions it could go, but here's a fic I've been dying for: Ineffable Husbands at a gay club and one of them gets REALLY jealous of all the attention the other's getting from the patrons

Anon, you’ve inadvertently triggered my very niche interest in the 1980s Manchester music scene. This is so so long... apologies for that. This is also very relevant to another anonymous ask I got about dancing/letting loose, so I’m screen-shotting it here- anon, I hope you see this!

***

The year is 1984. Margaret Thatcher has won her landslide victory, and the miners’ strike has started sweeping the United Kingdom. Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners (LGSM) is beginning to make its mark in the papers. Madonna has taken over all radio stations worth listening to. Manchester United and Brighton drew 2-2 in the FA Cup, and the CD is now available in all good music stores. 

Aziraphale is in Manchester. The North is currently filled with civil unrest due to the current political situation. Crime is rising, jobs are dwindling, people are scared for their futures. Aziraphale doesn’t often venture to The North, but when he does, it’s because something’s either gone terribly wrong or terribly well. For example, the Industrial Revolution (which had been both good and bad). 

Crowley is in Manchester, too. He is in Manchester’s coolest club, The Haçienda. Nowadays, rather shockingly, Manchester is the place to be. It’s where New Order and The Smiths come to play. It’s the epicenter of British sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll. It’s Crowley’s creation, and for the first time since the city’s inception, he’d been- in his own words- ‘more than happy to come and check up on it and see how it’s doing’. 

The two of them run into each other one night, on a busy street outside The Haçienda. 

It’s eleven-thirty in the evening when Aziraphale turns a corner and walks directly into his best friend, whom he hasn’t seen since 1975. At first, he doesn’t recognise him for the lack of handle-bar moustache, begins apologising profusely. But the apology fades away on his tongue as he takes a step back and sees Crowley, giant Ray-Bans hiding most of his face. A black suit that’s too large for him- shoulders padded. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The ankles of his trousers rolled up too, and slacks without socks. And a painfully loud red and black Hawaiian shirt. 

Crowley’s eyebrows shoot up above his considerable sunglasses. “Aziraphale?”

“Crowley! Fancy running into you here.” Aziraphale brushes off his cream, swede, double-breasted suit jacket. “What are you doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Crowley spends a moment trying to re-roll his sleeves. Ever the perfectionist, he isn’t happy with how purposefully dishevelled he looks, and shrugs off his jacket, trying again. As he faffs, he continues, “This is my city. And it’s only just started getting really interesting. What are you doing here? What’s an angel doing in Manchester of all places?” 

“Well. All this Thatcher business.”

“Oh,” Crowley nods. “Yes. Her. Coming to try and tidy up after her, are we?”

“Sort of. Lots of unhappy people, thought I’d try and perform a miracle or two.”

“Fair enough- except- except, doesn’t really answer my question,” Crowley drawls, stepping closer, sliding his hands into the pockets of his loose trousers.

The streets of Manchester are filled with party goers. Music from The Haçienda booms out, cigarette smoke pouring through the half open doorway. The bouncer eyes them suspiciously.

Aziraphale feels transfixed on the spot, Crowley’s gaze fixed on him and an amused smile playing on his lips. 

“What’s an angel doing in Manchester at 11:30 on a Saturday night?”

Aziraphale stares. That hair. Some sort of miracle has gone into that hair, the way it’s been swept back and sprayed to an inch of its life to keep its hold. There’s so much volume to it, so much life that it looks like it might leap right off Crowley’s head and run away. But what’s more distracting is the way Crowley begins to pace around him, the way he always seems to do. Like he’s orbiting Aziraphale- the sun around a sunflower. And Aziraphale turns to watch him.

“It’s- you’re right, it’s not my preferred thing to be doing,” Aziraphale begins, feeling very thoroughly watched. Crowley is looking at him like he’s enjoying himself, as if he’s impressed. “I’d much rather be reading my book back home, but I’m actually here to lend some support.”

“Support?” Crowley repeats, smile still there, brows raised in interest. 

Aziraphale glances at him as he continues to circle. People pass them by on the street without a second glance. The bouncer, however, looks like he’s about to shoo them away from the outside of the club. 

“Support,” he emphasises. How is he forgetting his words so easily tonight? Crowley doesn’t always have this mind-numbing effect on him, but when he does, it’s awfully embarrassing. “I’m here to support the Lesbians and Gays Support the Miners. They’re having a party to gather allies in the gay club here. Just down the road.”

Crowley stops at that. And if he’d looked impressed before, now he looks positively elated, smile huge and brows flying to his hairline. “You what? LGSM- that was you?”

“Of course,” Aziraphale says quietly. Smiling to himself, feeling pleased. And quite frankly, flourishing a little under Crowley’s smile. “Two subjugated parties, coming together for a common cause. Equality.”

“And riots.”

Crowley smirks. Aziraphale frowns at him.

“Peaceful protest,” Aziraphale amends. 

Crowley bows his head in concession. “Of course,” he says insincerely. 

“Anyway,” Aziraphale says, before Crowley can begin lecturing him. “I’m heading over there now, just to show my face. It would be very rude not to, as they had invited me. Although…”

Aziraphale swallows. Looks about the dark, lamplit streets around him and sees the people stumble along, beers in hand, empty bottles of Lambrini rolling down the pavements. People chanting football anthems as they run through the deserted roads. The red-brick, converted factory buildings illuminated by club lights.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“No,” Aziraphale asserts. Then, after being stared at for a few moments, “Yes.”

Crowley snorts. “Well, there’s only one good gay club that I know of round these parts, go there quite a lot myself.”

That brings his attention right back to Crowley’s Ray-Bans. “You do?”

Crowley shrugs enthusiastically. “Yeah, why not? Good fun.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Absolutely.”

“Ah- good. Well…”

“You don’t strike me as the type to go to clubs often.”

“And you’d be right.”

“So, let me get this straight- you live in Soho, gay centre of London, and haven’t been to a gay club?”

“Not knowingly, no. You’ll have to show me the ropes.”

Crowley looks at him. He looks at him with an intensity that makes Aziraphale’s neck shiver strangely, and not altogether unpleasantly. And then he sniffs, looks away, begin walking away from the club their hanging outside of. Their steps falling easily in sync, as if they haven’t been apart for more than five minutes.

“You know it’ll be loud.”

“Yes, of course.”

“And you probably won’t like the music.”

“Well, I’ll judge that for myself.”

“And people will try and flirt with you. Even in…” Crowley looks him up and down. “That.”

Aziraphale glares at Crowley and side-steps a little as they walk, brushing off his jacket again defensively. Looks down at his outfit- he’s sporting a very soft, very comfortable turtle neck. And some well-fitted trousers, thank you very much. Aziraphale has never seen Miami Vice, but he has seen posters and he knows that Crowley has taken the vast majority of his fashion inspiration from the show (at least he’s now emerged from his Saturday Night Fever phase). Aziraphale thinks he has rather better standards.

“What’s wrong with this?”

“You look like a Philosophy teacher.”

“And- excuse me, what is wrong with that?”

“You’re going to a gay club.”

“Well, my lesbian and gay friends don’t seem to take issue with my fashion choices.”

This is not, distinctly, true. They had tried to give him a makeover last week, and it had ended up with him looking like a lost member of Adam and the Ants. 

“Alright, well, how about this.”

Crowley snaps his fingers- and then Aziraphale’s in a white silk shirt, buttons undone to his clavicle, the collar turned up and sleeves rolled up. White trousers- oh, Lord, no, they’re white jeans. And, well. 

A little snug, at that. 

“Good God,” he remarks.

“There. Suits you.”

“White jeans, Crowley. I mean, really, I think I can be classier than that.”

Crowley links arms with him and grins eagerly. Aziraphale’s back straightens and he returns his smile, a little giddily. 

“Tonight, we aren’t doing classy, angel.”

***

Three hours and several cocktails later, and Aziraphale has found himself dancing something that isn’t a gavotte. 

Some song about ‘needing a hero’ is playing, very upbeat and jovial it is, too. He’s dancing with the LGSM crew, glass half empty in one hand. It’s hot in here- he’s sweating horribly. And it’s incredibly loud. He doesn’t know what anyone’s saying, but they’re all having an excellent time. Cigarette smoke lingers in the air. And there are men in shorts so absurdly tiny that he doesn’t know how they keep everything in. The outfits get far more outrageous than that, too- people in full leather, people in full feathers, people in full glitter. 

Gay clubs are fantastic, Aziraphale has decided. 

He’s several drinks in, and Crowley has gone to the bar to buy a round for them all. Meanwhile, Aziraphale is jumping around with reckless abandon, knowing that, sooner or later, Crowley will come back. Crowley will come back and look at him in that way he does that Aziraphale doesn’t understand but makes his heart jump- a look that’s intense, yet soft, frustrated yet affectionate. 

Aziraphale will do almost anything to see him look at him like that. 

In the loud of the club, he hand signals something to his friends- something very inarticulate and nonsensical that’s meant to convey ‘I’m going to go look for my age-old friend Crowley, whom I have associated myself with for roughly six thousand years even though it’s technically against the rules, but I do it anyway because he’s probably the only person in this universe who understands me. Also I’m going to go help him with the drinks.’ And so he steps further into the crowd of the club- he’s lucky he’s drunk enough that he isn’t bothered by the sheer number of people- stepping on the sticky floor to find his friend. 

And there. 

There is Crowley, two cosmopolitans in hand. Being chatted up by a stranger. 

A very large, lumberjack looking man leering at him. He has even more hair on his head than Crowley does, piled on top of it like a rodent. And then there’s the huge beard and the frankly alarmingly hairy chest, poking out of layers of denim. Crowley stares at the stranger with slightly raised eyebrows and pursed lips, listening to whatever pick-up line he’s being given with a look of heavy judgement. 

And at first, Aziraphale doesn’t know what to do.

There’s no reason to be jealous, of course. Because, they aren’t together. In the coupley sense, anyway. Are they?

No we aren’t, we can’t be, he thinks. Aziraphale would know if they were. And they’d probably see each other more often if they were, rather than parting ways every decade or so only to accidentally run into each other. 

But he thinks about him all the time. All the damn time. He’s the only person in this universe that he misses, really truly misses. And Aziraphale knows beyond doubt that what he’s feeling right now is jealousy- a burning, horrible possessiveness that makes his stomach churn and his chest ache. A furnace inside him that makes him square his shoulders and march over to Crowley through the sea of sweaty bodies. He knows it’s jealousy- which is not good news at all, for an angel.

Bad bad, very bad indeed. Not heavenly. Problem is, I think I love him, and there’s not much to be done about that, Aziraphale thinks to himself. Lord, I’m very drunk. 

The song about needing a hero continues, its fast rhythm giving him momentum as he approaches the enormous man and an unintimidated Crowley. And then, Aziraphale hesitates. Because, he really shouldn’t be interrupting this, if Crowley enjoys this sort of thing- and he’s said he does like gay clubs, so by proxy he probably also likes the attention from other men. Which means that Aziraphale has absolutely no room to disturb that enjoyment, even if it hurts him. 

And so Aziraphale stands and watches, heart breaking a little in the middle of the dance floor as Crowley smirks at the lumberjack man. Lumberjack man leans a hand on the bar and continues talking. Leans in to say something in Crowley’s ear. 

Aziraphale burns. 

He watches helplessly as Crowley’s smirk becomes a grimace, and he begins searching the crowd. The disco lights catch his Ray-Bans, flash a bright green. And then he seems to spot Aziraphale, because his face softens in relief, his body slumping so he almost pours the cosmopolitans down his shirt. Aziraphale watches his lips as he mouths something to him.

Help? Please?

That’s all it takes. Aziraphale doesn’t question the fact that Crowley could easily miracle himself out of this awkward situation. If it crosses his mind that actually, Crowley may want Aziraphale to come save him, it’s quickly dashed away. Yes, that thought is considered for all of point-five of a second, before being locked away and buried somewhere deep in his mind. 

Aziraphale rocks up to the bar. Crowley smiles at him, extends an arm to Aziraphale and gives him one of the drinks. Then, he snakes said arm around his waist.

Oh, golly, he thinks in sudden alarm. 

The song changes to something about ‘spinning me right round.’ Not that Aziraphale’s attention is on the music right now- no, it’s on Crowley, who’s wrapped himself around Aziraphale and is leaning against him sinuously. 

“Sorry, love, this is my boyfriend,” Crowley shouts over the music to the disgruntled looking stranger. “Go bother some other twink.”

Aziraphale has absolutely no idea what that last part means, but it does make him laugh nervously. Crowley looks at him seriously, raises his eyebrows at him over his sunglasses. From this close, he can see the slits of his snake eyes. 

“Oh,” Aziraphale says out loud- one step behind Crowley’s thought-process, as drunk as he is. 

He wraps an arm around Crowley’s slim waist, and gives lumberjack his best intimidating stare. Straightening to his full height and tilting his chin imperiously. Lumberjack waves a dismissive hand at them and moves onto his next conquest. 

The two of them hover at the bar for a long moment, annoying the rest of the club-goers who are trying to get to the front to make their orders. They stand there, arms around each other, both of them seemingly frozen in surprise at what has just occurred. And, apparently, not knowing what to do next.

Crowley is the first to untangle himself. His cosmopolitan sloshes down Aziraphale’s shirt, and he instantly miracles it better, without a care in the world who can see. He stands back a little- not very far. There isn’t enough room to stand that far apart. And he looks him dead on. Purses his lips, as if nervous. As if trying to figure out what to say. 

Then he dips his head to Aziraphale’s ear to speak. The closeness of it-

Lord, the closeness of it. The heat of Crowley’s breath against his ear is something else. It freezes him on the spot.

“Fancy a dance, angel?”

Crowley leans back again. He looks tense and relaxed all at once. Lips parted, as if dazed. Cheeks red from the heat of the club. A sheen of sweat on his brow, shoulders creeping up to his ears. 

Aziraphale nods. And then Crowley beams a sharkish grin at him- something far more apprehensive than it is happy or confident- and takes his hand. 

He takes his hand, and Aziraphale lets him take him to the dance floor. 

They dance. They dance to the song about spinning right round, to a song about being together in electric dreams, and then something by the wonderful Mr Bowie. Because yes, even Aziraphale knows David Bowie. And if he notices the LGSM gang waving and leering at him, making rude hand gestures and mouthing words of encouragement at him from across the room, he ignores them as best he can. Rather, he waves a shooing hand at them when Crowley’s back is turned. They’ve heard him talk about Crowley too many times for them not to put two-and-two together, apparently. 

How mortifying.

That doesn’t stop them from having the most enormous fun. Crowley is absolutely delighted by the fact that Aziraphale can dance something other than the gavotte. Within the first three minutes he’s laughing uncontrollably, grinning like an idiot with how amusing it apparently is to see Aziraphale dance. When Crowley dives in to talk in Aziraphale’s ear again- a hand on his arm-

A hand on his arm-

He tells Aziraphale that he dances like a granddad. Aziraphale shouts something about Crowley being very rude and mean to him- he doesn’t remember the exact words, he’s too tipsy- and Crowley just smiles wider. They dance and shout and Crowley sings lyrics at the top of his lungs like his life depends on it, with utter dedication that makes Aziraphale’s heart swell. They continue to drink and laugh and let the night take them somewhere they haven’t experienced together before. With every song, with every terrible dance move that he shares with Crowley, he feels some weight lift of his shoulders.

And then something with a heavy beat starts playing. Something that stops the crowd from jumping and flailing. It takes too long for Aziraphale to notice, drunkenly swaying on the spot with a dazed smile pulling at his lips. And then he sees the way Crowley is standing stock still, arms awkwardly at his sides like he’s forcing them to stay there. Lips pressed together and eyes scanning the room. 

Aziraphale doesn’t think about taking his hands in his, he just does it. Crowley’s eyes snap up to him, lips parting in soft surprise. 

The music plays. 

‘You’re out of touch, I’m out of time- but I’m out of my head when you’re not around…’

They move closer. And then they move even closer. And Aziraphale holds Crowley’s hand, holds his waist like he’s leading him in a waltz. And Crowley looks at him with brows pulled together, Adam’s apple bouncing as he swallows. And they shuffle terribly awkwardly, as if they’ve both forgotten how to use their mortal bodies, forgotten what legs are. And Aziraphale supposes he should feel embarrassed, that this should feel strange. To hold his best friend like this and stare into his eyes like he has no intention of ever leaving this moment. And in a way, it does feel strange.

But more than that, it feels wonderful.

And if the song changes to something faster again, neither one notices. If the club starts to get quieter, people going home, neither one cares. And if the world really is going to end someday soon, with fire and flame and the armies of Heaven and Hell using Earth as its battle ground, neither one will leave each other’s side. 

The year is 1984, and although they’re both too afraid to say it out loud, they know that they belong together.

[korra-the-red-lion]

Unnatural Affairs. Chapter 1: Move In Day.

(Ally)

The first day of university was one of those exciting yet absolutely terrifying things. Luckily, it was just move in day and that gave me a week reprieve before I actually went to my first class. Still, the anxiety of moving away from home was something you couldn’t help, even if you don’t always get along your parents. Being on your own, expected to fend for yourself alone. That made me shiver to my core.

The car bumped along the road as we approached the campus. My dad said something to my mom under his breath, for her ears only. I didn’t mind, too busy focusing on the school buildings coming into view. It wasn’t a massive campus, but that fit me just fine. I grew up in a small town, so a smaller university was the least overwhelming choice for me to pick. I originally got accepted into Chester University, but with a student population of 45,000, I could feel my heart rate increase just reading about it. My dad was disappointed that I didn’t go to Perkins, his alma mater, but it was just so far away and quite frankly, had a reputation as a party school. No, not for me, thank you very much. I liked that Mount Seamus had a small student population (only 3,000) and was close enough to home that I could go back if I needed to (only an hour and half drive).

“Alexandra,” said my mom, looking over her shoulder, “how are you feeling?”

I tore my gaze away from the window. “A little nervous, if I’m being honest. Excited too, but mostly nervous.”

She smiled at me. “Perfectly normal. I think you’ll be great, sweetie.”

I smiled back at her, before returning my eyes back to the window. We were rolling up to the drop off spot for students. My parents would drop me off there and take my things to my room. I was happy for a chance to be away from them for a short time. I loved them, but sometimes they could be a tad bit stifling. It will be nice to be able to explore on my own for awhile before having to do the whole tour with them.

The car bumped to a stop. I undid my seatbelt, breathing slowly through my nose. I could feel my nerves trying to get the better of me. My mom reached around and placed her hand on my shoulder, giving me an encouraging nod. I nodded back to her and opened the door, the warmth of the August air hitting me.

“We’ll drop your stuff off and meet you at the student services building, okay?” said mom.

I nodded, not trusting my voice right now.

Mom reached out the window and kissed my hands, filling me with warmth, calming me down a little. My dad looked over and mumbled out a ‘good luck’ before they drove off. My dad wasn’t a man of many words, and it was having a hard time with me moving out. I just hoped that he’d open up a bit more before we got here, but clearly that wasn’t happening. Still, there was still time.

The sound of music and people cheering drew my attention. They were holding up signs that welcomed the new students, signs pointing people in the right direction, and just general fun vibes coming from that direction. That’s where I needed to be, so that’s where I went.

The music was a little too loud for my liking, but I just dealt with it. I didn’t have to be at this spot for too long. A student spotted me and waved at me to come over. She grinned as I approached, high fiving her friend. She had her hair tied up in a high ponytail. The colours of the school were painted on her cheeks, nearly hiding the smattering of freckles that spread across her nose and maybe her cheeks. Her friend was a bit shorter, with her hair done in a messy bun and wearing matching face paint.

“Hey-o, welcome to MSU, frosh,” said the freckled girl excitedly. “Is this your first time on campus?”

I nodded shyly, trying to not take a step back. The anxiety was trying to overwhelm me again.

“Nice! I’m Lyn, and this is my buddy Loryn!” she indicated the girl next to her. “We’re here to show people around and help out with anything you need for today.”

“If you want it, that is,” added Loryn quickly, maybe noticing my discomfort.

“Yes, totally!” Lyn looked back and forth between us, frowning slightly for a second before grinning again. “This is not mandatory by any means. It’s more like, uh, a more personalized tour? Some people find the whole group thing super overwhelming and shit, so we do this so people can just have some one on ones.”

“I would like that, actually,” I said with a smile. “If you don’t mind showing me around, Lyn, that would be lovely.”

Lyn winked at Loryn before coming around the table. “Hehe, another win for me, Loryn. If you don’t pick it up, cleaning the locker room sure is gonna suck for you.”

“Shut up and just show the poor girl around. Oh, and try not to be too loud, Lyn.”

Lyn rolled her eyes and indicated me to follow her. She was tall, probably around 6ft or something close to that. I didn’t notice it before, because I was distracted by the blue and white painted all over her face, but she had stunning electric blue eyes. The kind that most girls envied. They really popped against the paleness of her skin.

She must have noticed me looking as she turned towards me a little bit more, her eyes searching mine. Her face softened and she said to me, “You must be really nervous, huh?”

“I am, yeah…” I tucked my hair behind my ear. “It’s my first time away from home, from my parents, you know? You dream of moving out and being on your own for so long, but when the day comes, all you want do is go back home and wish you can just live there forever.”

Lyn nodded. “I get that, totally. Hopefully you’ll adjust here quickly, but girl, don’t feel bad about homesickness. Most of us feel it.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I’m Ally, by the way,” I said quickly. It totally slipped my mind to introduce myself earlier, but it occurred to me when she called me ‘girl.’

“Ally, huh? That’s a nice name,” she smiled at me again. “Okidoki, let’s get down to business, shall we? This is here is the main campus, where you’ll find all the classroom buildings and the library. The residence buildings are all located around the main campus, but no building is longer than a 10-minute walk around here. Food hall is over on the east side, over yonder,” she pointed to where I assume the meal hall was located, “so it’s nice depending on which res you’re in. I was in Lukas Hall, which was close to the AC but across from the food hall, so I always had to pack snacks for after practice in case I couldn’t grab something before class.”

“Sorry, but what’s the ‘AC’?” I asked, tilting my head to the side.

“Shit, sorry, you’re new. It’s the Athletic Centre, where I spend most of my days.”

I bite my lip in thought, looking her up and down, trying to guess what sport she played. She was tall and had lean muscle. She was wearing flip flops and track pants, her toes had chipped nail polish on them. She was wearing a university t-shirt, but it gave no indication to which team she was on. She was smirking at me with her arms crossed over her chest, knowing I was trying to guess.

“Okay, um, basketball?” I guessed.

She laughed with a gentle shake of her head. “Nope! I’ll let you guess one more time.”

Damn, okay. She wasn’t too bulky, so I knew basketball was a risky guess. I think volleyball is wrong too. There were no scraps or bruises on her knees and legs to indicate that she played soccer or hockey.

I smiled brightly when it came to me. “Swim team!”

Lyn broke out in a huge grin. “Damn, yeah! How’d you guess?”

“Well, I didn’t notice any bruising on your skin. So, it kind of eliminated contact sports. I did think maybe you did cross country or swimming because of your build. You’re muscular, but it’s not heavy muscle like other sports. It’s the kind of muscle required for endurance. But then I saw your toes…for the most part they look fine. I feel like a runner would have more calluses and swelling down there. Therefore, the logical conclusion had to be swimming,” I explained.

Lyn gave a low whistle and shoved her hands in her pockets. “Well damn, Ally. That was pretty freaking good. You wanna be a PI or something?”

I blushed as I shook my head. “Not really. I just always had a knack for noticing details.”

“Well, that’s a pretty cool knack. I’m shit with details, so there’s no way in hell I could have guessed that just from sizing someone up. Come on, I’ll show ya the rest of the campus and we’ll head over to the meet up spot. I assume your parents are meeting you there?”

I nodded and we were off again. Lyn was honestly not great at explaining where things were, since she would just vaguely point in the direction and tell me the building names, even though I didn’t know much about them. But, she was really nice and friendly. I actually ended up forgetting about how anxious I was about this whole thing and ended up really enjoying the tour. I knew I’d end up doing it with my parents again anyway, so I didn’t mind that this wasn’t the gold standard tour given out by the university coordinators.

Eventually we ended up back to where I met her and Loryn, who was now gone. Maybe she was giving someone else a tour. Lyn directed me to where my parents were waiting for me. My mom was checking her phone, and when our eyes connected, I realized I never took it out once while I was with Lyn. I guiltily pulled it out from my purse and saw that I had three missed texts and a missed called from her. If I was anxious about moving out, my mom was way worse.

Of course, I understood why. Ever since I was a little kid, I noticed things that other people didn’t. At first, my parents chalked it up to youthful imagination but after great grand dad passed away and I told Nana that he wanted to apologize for how he treated her and Betty when they were growing up, my parents came to the conclusion that there was something wrong with me. There isn’t, in the traditional sense. It just seems as if I could connect to the supernatural aspects of this world. It wasn’t normal, and it really upset my dad quite a bit. I tried to make sure I never talked about it once I got old enough to understand how they felt about the situation, but there were times that it slipped. Like at Kat’s 13th birthday bash, which I ended up having a panic attack at because I swore that I saw some sort of demon crawling out of the garden shed. I think my mom just didn’t want me to feel like an outcast again, but university is supposed to be a new beginning, right?

“Sorry, mom. I was talking to someone and just forgot to check my phone,” I said, a wave of shame washing over me.

My mom, a human scanner when it came to people I was with, looked Lyn up and down before nodding slowly, meaning she approved. My dad, however, stared at her for a solid minute of silence. Lyn shifted foot to foot uncomfortably and tugged at her ear.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked under her breath.

“No, you didn’t. My dad is just very overprotective and tends to do this stupid act to scare people away,” I muttered back.

Finally, my dad clicked his tongue and nodded as well. “I’m glad that you found someone to show you around,” he said slowly.

“Yes, Lyn was very nice to do that,” I said. “The campus is lovely, and it will be nice to have a familiar face to see.” This drew a smile onto Lyn’s freckled face.

“Your daughter is super awesome,” she said to my parents, “but I can’t stick around much longer, unfortunately. Gotta go back and see if there are any other frosh who need my attention, you know?” She spared me a goodbye wink before sauntering back over to her table, where some guy was there instead of Loryn.

I found myself staring over at her before my attention was drawn back to my parents, especially my mom. She had a map of the campus and started asking me where everything was and how close I was to the major buildings (those being meal hall, the library, and the student centre in case I needed campus security for any reason).

I had a feeling this second tour was going to be much longer than the one I just had.

XXX

My parents helped me set everything up in my room. It wasn’t a big space, but that was to be expected. I’m an only child, so the real adjustment is learning how to share the space with another person. She wasn’t here at the moment; she went to supper with her parents. My mom offered to go picked something up so we could eat it here, leaving me alone with dad.

My relationship with my dad was…complicated at best. He was loving and looked out for me, but it was also difficult for him to come to terms with the more… how to say, unnatural aspects of my personality. He grew up as a devout Catholic, so these kinds of things just made him uncomfortable. I remember when I was 9 years old and being told I wasn’t allowed to go over to Chris Parks’ house anymore because his older brother used a Ouija Board during a Halloween party, and my dad was convinced the house was filled with evil spirts since.

So yeah, sometimes it was hard to get along with him. It didn’t matter how many times I explained myself to him, he was always harsh with judgement. It’s not like I woke up one day and asked for this. Trust me, if I had the choice, I’d be much happier living in a world of naivety like the other kids. I’ve had to go to therapy and be prescribed meds to help control my anxiety about seeing dead people and demons. That kind of shit scars you, doesn’t matter what age.

I was humming a tune to a song that helps me stay calm while making sure my poster of Supergirl was straight when I heard my dad clear his throat. Dropping my shoulders in anticipation, I looked over with a frown.

“Yes, dad?”

“Take a seat, I just want to chat before your mom gets back,” he said, patting a spot on my bed next to him.

Wary of what was coming next, I sat with my shoulders curled into towards my body. I fiddled with the arm of my glasses and waited for him to speak. There was no point in rushing him when he got like this.

“Alexandra, I know that growing up, I was harsh with you when it came to…” he waved his hand at me, “…you know. But, it was only for your own good. This here? This is a new chance, a chance to start fresh. No one here knows about your…you know. You can make friends, maybe even get a girlfriend. But baby girl, promise me that you won’t go looking for those kinds of dark things. Promise me you’ll just be ordinary, okay?”

There it was. Ordinary. The word was like a punch to the face every time he said it. I could feel my face grow hot with shame and anger as I got to my feet. “I- dad…you know I hate it when you say it that way…” my voiced cracked as I tried to keep it together.

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad, Alexandra. I just want you to have a good time here and not-”

“What? Not screw up?” I turned away from him, feeling the tears welling up.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“That’s how it sounded to me!”

Dad got to his feet as well and try to put his hand on my shoulder, which I shrugged off, not wanting him to touch me. I hated that he made me feel dirty about this.

“Listen, Alexandra, just…I’m sorry, okay? I just want to know you’ll be safe while you’re here.”

I rolled my eyes and forced myself to take a deep breath. “Okay, whatever dad.”

Whatever dumb thing he was going to say next was interrupted by mom coming in with the food. I quickly wiped at my eyes and forced myself to face them both. My mom’s eyes were red and puffy, clearly from crying in the car. Well, there I go too. I burst into tears and pull my mom into a tight hug, trying to take in her everything. I was ready to get away from home, I swear. But leaving my mom was harder than anything else in the whole world.

There we stood, sobbing onto each other’s shoulders while the food got cold beside us.

XXX

I stood on the corner as my parents drove away, my mom waving to me from the window. I had no more tears to spill, so I stood there in painful, hallow silence. Finally, when the bugs started to get too awful for me to deal with anymore, I made my way back to my residence. MacGavin hall was considered one of the better residences on campus, which is why my parents insisted I stayed there. I wasn’t going to argue with them, since they were paying.

I swiped my student card against the reader and pulled the door open once it beeped green. I made my way back to my room in miserable silence. There was already music blasting from someone’s room, and some of the students were sharing alcohol in the hall. Obviously, the RA was either a party person themselves, or they just didn’t care. To be honest, I didn’t care myself at this time.

I opened my door and saw that my roommate, Sarah I think, was sitting on her bed, headphones in. She rolled over with similar puffy eyes and smiled weakly at me.

“Same boat, huh?”

I nodded with a laugh. “Uh, yeah. That was way harder than I thought it would be.”

“Right?” She sat up, rubbing her face. “I was like, so excited to leave home and be like, independent from them. But then when it like, occurred to me that I wouldn’t be waking up in my house tomorrow… it sorta just like, hit me so hard. I ended up snotting in my salad.”

Okay, that made me genuinely laugh. I sat down on my bed and we ended up sort of just talking through the rest of the night, until we both fell asleep.

Maybe the first day of moving away from home was exciting and the start of a new journey. But those movies and books never talked about how hard it could be to let go. They never talked about the tears and the empty feeling of knowing that you just left everything you knew behind. It never talked about the fear that came with being in an unfamiliar place. As I drifted off, I knew I would be okay, even if it took a few days. But man, did my heart ache.

[undergroundkid]

9. Keep provoking my curosity

The new guest tore his gaze away from the phone to meet yours, acknowledging you with a simple nod. The lack of words was a little surprising, but he didn’t seem to hold grudges against you like some of the previous quiet guests from the last floor. Still thinking about how you’re better than everyone here? With a bitter swallow, you reached for his bag. - I will take your luggage – you took it with a huff, shocked about its weight:- Please follow me, Mister. He did so, tapping slowly on the screen of his phone. You weren’t quite sure if his silence was a pleasant turnaround or disturbing occurrence. Between rare small talks and not so infrequently quarrels, ignorance suited most of your guests. Chae’s reservations never played by these rules, though – wild cards, all of them.

The man beside you hide his phone but didn’t utter a word. You rode in the company of the elevator hum, signaling the 4th floor with a soft ding. You walked towards his door, the beginning of standard formula at the tip of your tongue: here’s your keycard, the restaurant is open… A loud groan stopped you in your tracks. You turned around with startle, only to be met with the surprised face of until now silent guest. He took off his facemask, showing off light, perfect skin. He giggled then, a warm, almost adorable sound, so dissonant with the rest of his visuals. - Oh, I am sorry Miss – he apologized with a small bow:- I’m just terribly tired and yawned before I could stop myself. You laughed along with him. - It’s alright, let’s make it quick so you can rest properly – you suggested, opening his apartment. Once inside, you dropped luggage and gave him short instructions about hotel regulations. Taking note of his earlier behavior, you drew the curtains and dimmed the lights to let his eyesight relax already. - If you need any help, don’t hesitate to call reception. - Everything seems perfect to me, thank you – he took his bag without any effort and laid it on the bed, which made you think why the heck he couldn’t do it earlier and left it to you to drag it all the way here. Why did people love to make your life harder? You should’ve call Yoonho to do this, it’s his job.. You’re exactly like your guests. Uneasy feeling sat in the pit of your stomach again. - Not sure about my coach though, he may nag you about anything really – the man laughed in a low voice. You glanced at his baggy tracksuit, awfully white sneakers, big, heavy bag – in addition, you caught a peek of a sport t-shirt inside with bright caption TEAM WONHO. He must be some kind of athlete, then. - Always glad to be of service – you decided to stay polite. - Ahaha, please, don’t encourage him – he snorted, sitting on the bed. In poor lighting, bags under his eyes weren’t so prominent as before, but his face hid some uneasiness. You weren’t sure if it was fatigue, though. Better to be cautious. He was one of Chae’s friends, after all, he could snap at you anytime. Or do something else; your tattooed wrist burned with a reminder one more time. - Hope you enjoy your stay, sir. - I hope so, too.. trainings are insane lately – with a sigh, he leaned his elbows on knees, slouching:- What's the point in trying anymore? All I do is mess things up anyway.. Unconsciously your feet already pointed towards the door; it wasn’t a conversation you should or even want to have with a man you didn’t know the name of. Damn, what were you supposed to say? You’re not a psychologist. How to act tactfully here? The question was if you really wanted to be tactful; or if you just wanted to leave. Your personal life was a solid confusion enough lately. Sir, please let me just do my job.. - I think you just need a proper rest – you spoke calmly, trying to induce such an effect on him. Luckily, he nodded in agreement. - Yeah, that sounds wonderful.. You bowed and left the apartment, closing the doors gently. Letting out a deep breath of relief, you wondered why your work is getting harder like this. Tourism was always full of surprises, as many of people-related businesses. But roller coaster like this was new; one day you are getting psychotherapy with a tattoo artist, another one you are deeply insulted, sometimes you briefly met someone decent and then you are getting tricked by tarot reader and.. well. Today you were met with a depressed sportsman. The small voice in your head recommended extra blankets and nice champagne to add in hotel system info about this room, but mostly you just wanted to get back to the backroom in reception. You didn’t want to bother about another messed up client. Sitting alone, pretending to work but being able to dwell in your own thoughts.. just being ignorant and properly don’t care.. just like your typical guests. You’re exactly like your guests. - Giving a poor hotel guide again? More than a reminder of harsh words, you were startled by the same voice behind you. Turning around, you were met with the main cause of your distress lately, your own nemesis, however dramatical it sounded. - Mr. Chae – you responded tightly. He looked a bit different; his hair a little washed out, not so outstandingly bleached anymore. He wore all black again, his blazer slightly damp from the weather outside. As much as it was normal, it was weird to see since you remember how unaffected he was by the snowstorm when you saw him for the first time. When he was a gentleman making odd reservations. - Not much changed, I see. But you did, sadly. The blonde slid keycard beside the knob to his door, not facing you, which didn’t stop him from talking: - I wonder when you will understand how short-sighted you are. What needs to happen for you to realize? Hearing harsh words from this man wasn’t new. Somehow expecting it, your feelings weren’t as hurt as before. Anxious, yes, but not stunned. Chae stepped into the room, finally looking at you with clear incomprehension. - You got help all this help from Changkyun only to be swept into your ignorance once again. A pity, really. Your breath hitched. - A help? – you whispered with the strained voice once again; stunned by Chae’s word, once again. - He’s a gifted reader – the man shrugged and added with a little, mocking smile:- And passionate lover, I suppose. You watched with horror as he started to close to the door; holy shit, your heartbeat loud in your ears, he knows, everybody knows, does everybody in this hotel know- - How did you know? Your heels stopped his door from closing; your instantaneous act making him raise his eyebrows. - So now we’re talking, I see ..? You weren’t so talkative- - How did you know?!  - you almost hissed at him, all work etiquette thrown out of the window. You could already feel sweat forming at your temples, the effect of the mixed shame and anger. I am talking before thinking once more, you thought, but the rush of emotions muted any rational thoughts. All your fears building through the whole day came alive sooner than you expected. Hyungwon clicked his tongue. - You are missing the point, why am I not surprised? – he flicked lights on and stepped inside, taking off his blazer and simply ignoring you. You followed him inside, determined to find some closure on your constant distress. - You’re the one who’s not listening! I asked you how did you know! - Know what? How you were offered all the answers and still didn’t bother to act? - No, I mean me and Mr. Changkyun! - Seriously, I am saying the words and you stubbornly.. –  his gaze fell upon your angered posture, clenched fists, and finally, teary eyes. He immediately softened:- Oh. You think I am judging you, do you? - What? – you tried to blink away the blurriness:- No, I want to know how do you know.. did you two speak? Does everybody know? He shook his head, stepping closer. You were babbling your nerves way. - Did you speak with anyone else? D-did you speak with my manager? I really don’t want to lose this job.. - Hush with his nonsense – he said, sweeping your tears away with his cold hand:- Why are you like this? Why are you afraid? - What.. what everybody will think when they will know? - Who is ‘everybody’? Your clients? Boss? – he took your right hand in his, thumb drawing circles in your uniform’s cuff. Your tattoo burned under the material:- Or is it you? Are you afraid to admit to yourself that you enjoyed this? You silently dropped your head. I am only a stupid doe. - You silly thing – he chuckled:- Did you want it? Not brave enough, you just nodded. - You wanted it, so you got it – his fingers under your chin made you look up. His face wasn’t as malicious as always:- Like a strong and independent woman do. You tried to turn away after his absurd words, but he stopped you. Chae’s eyes were nothing but sincere and a little bit playful as if the situation amused him. The small hint of a smile danced on his lush lips. - You conquered a fine man – he clicked his tongue, sound like before, but with faked shock:- Feisty huntress, someone would say. You couldn’t help but laugh. - I am nothing but hunted doe. - Tsk, tsk – he took both of your hands:- Only the dancers will know who leads the dance. Not sure how it worked, but you were able to let your worries go away – at least, for this moment. Saying your concerns out loud helped to realize how feeble they were actually. Unnecessary paranoia almost killed possible good experience; you should accept how free you felt then, after all. Freedom and being desired could build your self-esteem that your ex-boyfriend and the exhausting job definitely destroyed. Finally filled with comfort by the last person you would suspect, all your tense muscles could relax. This gave you a chance to inspect the man before you closely; marvelous as you remembered him. Long face, big, mischievous eyes. Your own followed the shape of his mouth; his tongue licked his lips. - Looks like I’m the prey– he murmured:- Where did little doe go? You gave him a small, mysterious smile, inching towards his face. - Oh I see.. – his breath mingled with yours:- Let’s the hunt begin, then?

thank you for reading

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[kingneptunesthinninghead]

How much do you weigh? what a weirdly personal question

If you are outside, what are you most likely doing? sitting in the shade reading a book

Do you think you can love someone without trusting them? yes but not in a way that will ever be truly fulfilling

What’s your opinion on people who go hunting for sport? i live in a very rural area so i grew up with hunting for sport extremely normalized but once i actually developed and used my critical thinking skills i realized how morally reprehensible it is. literally just begging these people to use their brains.

Do you have a fairly fast or slow internet connection? eh its pretty fast

Have you ever been someplace tropical? florida lmao

Are you sensitive to caffeine? somewhat. i dont really consume it that much

How do you usually get around? driving myself

Have you ever been accused of being too clingy? no bc i’m generally pretty independent unless i reallyyyy like someone

What do you think about Kim Kardashian? neutral

Can you speak any French? je parle un peu français

Favorite yogurt flavor? i’m lactose intolerant so i recently tried dairy free yogurt and i hated it sooo i guess none

How much money do you have in your wallet right now? i dont have any cash in my wallet rn lol

What bottled water brand do you like? deer park or aquafina

Your favorite way to eat chocolate? brownies

How often do you listen to country music? sometimes.

Linkin Park or Avenged Sevenfold? neither

Last surgery you had? my wisdom teeth surgery

Have you ever played guitar? no but i wish i could

Is there someone in your life whose career/life choices you find immoral/unethical? Have you ever told that person your views? Do you find it difficult to support them (emotionally or otherwise) because of their choices? um i dont think so

What trait do you feel you lack that you wish you possessed? a little more confidence

Have you ever considered writing your memoirs? maybe

Do you find it difficult to stay invested in online relationships? i dont have very many online friends anymore but when i had a bunch i loved talking to them

Are you the type of person who pays close attention to the release dates of movies, music, etc., and will, for example, go see a movie or buy an album on the date it is released? If so, when is the last time you did so? only for something i really like.

Do you have any stickers on your laptop? a bunch

Would you rather have a job for which you had to go in early in the morning or one you had to stay late into the evening at? early in the morning so then i have the rest of the day to myself when i get off

Do you use any apps to track your health or medications? i have a workout app but that’s it.

Whose opinions/recommendations do you value most? my mom, sister, and my 2 best friends

If you could’ve been at any historical event, which would you have liked to witness firsthand? probably the women’s suffrage movement or the civil rights movement

Is there something that you really want to do but are afraid of doing? If so, why are you afraid of doing it?i want to tell him how i feel but i’m afraid i’ll ruin the friendship

What is something society “expects” you to do that you don’t want to do and/or don’t plan on doing? wear a tampon i’m sorry but i can’t do it

Have Jehovah's Witnesses ever come to your door? no

Are you well-known by people in your area? eh somewhat

Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? no and i dont want to

What's your favourite type of bird? owls!!

What tv show(s) have you been watching currently? i’m watching loki, hsmtmts, planning to watch s2 of never have i ever, and i started one piece but i haven’t watched in a while

Have you ever dated a smoker? no but that might change😳

Do you share a middle name with any of your siblings? no

Have you ever been a member in a band? No.

Can you cry on command? If so, have you ever used it to your advantage? No.

Do you have separate emails for personal and business? i have my school email and personal email

Have you ever missed a flight? no

Have you ever seen a lunar eclipse? i think so.

Have you ever taken a ride in a convertible? i literally rode in my best friend’s convertible last night lmao

Why did you last need to use a band-aid? i dont remember

What fruit do you eat most often? bananas and clementines

Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? maybe my great uncle?

Has someone ever tried to start an argument with you over Facebook? What happened? no but i’ve been in a few on insta and twitter.

Have you ever had an unusual type of milk (eg. oat, rice, almond)? i don’t straight up drink milk but i love things made with almond milk.

If you could experience life as a Disney princess for a week, which princess would you pick and why? elsa i want ice powers

When you’re at home, do you spend most of your time in your room? sometimes but normally during the day i’m in the living room with my family

If you like to sleep in late, have your parents ever told you off for doing so? No.

Do you find piercings attractive? Yep.

Do you like potato chips? Loooove 'em.

What’s the most stalker-like/creepy thing you’ve ever done? If you don’t think you’ve done anything like that, what’s the most stalker-like thing someone’s done to you? i’ve looked up a few people’s houses on zillow in my day.

Do you think it’s a double standard that a woman can hit a man and expect to get away with it, but if a man hits a woman it’s assault? absolutely, you shouldn’t hit anyone

What’s your favorite old Disney movie and favorite new Disney movie? my top 3 are princess and the frog, tangled, and frozen 2. i also love the little mermaid

Name something “trendy” or popular that you dislike. idrk

“Dirty talk” in the bedroom…love it, like it, don’t care, dislike it, or hate it? it depends on what it is. it should also be mixed with some loving or praise talk imo

What is/are your favorite type(s) of ethnic food, and what’s your favorite food within that type? i LOVE italian food specifically fettuccine alfredo and i also love asian food such as general tso’s, sweet and sour chicken, lo mein, shrimp fried rice, LUMPIA 🤤

How would you describe your relationship with your hair over the years? i’ve always liked my hair color and thickness. i always go back and forth between growing it out long and cutting it short bc i can never choose which i like more also it has lots of red undertones so i’m thinking about dyeing it a deep red

How do you feel about your SO daily/regularly checking up on a couple of his exes on social media? hypothetically it would be a red flag to me. a clear sign they haven’t moved on from the past

Do you prefer your guy to wear cologne or not? a good smelling cologne on a man will quite literally make me bust a nut.

Ladies, how important is it to you that your SO wears/would wear a wedding ring? i’d want them to unless it didnt fit or something

What was the turning point that led you to decide for or against having children? i’m very close with my family so i’ve always loved the idea of having one of my own with my future spouse

Is having your “dream” wedding really that important to have? i definitely have ideas for my wedding and i would want it to go a certain way according to our plan but in the end if things go wrong or plans change it wouldn’t matter as long as i’m marrying the loml.

Do you consider it cheating if your SO goes to a strip club and then doesn’t tell you? i wouldn’t consider it cheating if he was just watching but i would be angry that he hid it from me

How old is too old for trick-or-treating? i dont think it matters unless ur posing a danger to little children

Do you sleep with your arms over or under the covers? depends but mostly under

Do you own any t-shirts of your favorite band? i have nsync and harry styles shirts but thats it

Fries or onion rings? Fries.

True/False: you’ve had an odd dream this week. all the time but most of the time i forget them right after i wake up

Do you find tattoo sleeves attractive? depends

Do you like carving pumpkins? Yeah.

What’s an animal you want to have as a pet but can’t? i think raccoons are adorable but its kindaaaa hard to domesticate them

Have your parents ever caught you drinking? no bc my parents let me drink in the house and i’ve told them abt every time i’ve drank at college

How would you react if your celebrity crush came to your door? i would absolutely piss and shit on myself.

Has your mom/dad ever walked in on you kissing or anything more with someone? no

The person you have a crush on is drunk and goes to kiss you, you know they don’t realize what they’re doing, but do you kiss anyways? i would stop it even if i want to bc i don’t want them to regret anything and i wouldn’t want them to kiss me if they don’t like me bc it would hurt too much.

What would you prefer to get from a guy/girl: flowers, a hand written poem, a picture he drew of you or a nice night out? i would love them all but something abt a guy taking the time to write a poem for me makes me melt

Do you any shirts with any kind of images of food on them? no.

Which holiday is the most fun to decorate for? halloween

What was the first website you had an email account on? gmail

Have you ever written a fanfic? YES AHSHDH.

Tattoos or piercings? tats for sure.

What’s the last gross movie/show/video you saw? the scene where alexei breaks the inmate’s wrist in black widow is SO GROSS i cringe every time

Would you rather live in a huuuge house or a little cozy one? definitely a little cozy one

Do you have a tutor for anything? No.

Who’s the best kisser you know? i’ve only kissed one person.

Has anyone ever threatened you with a knife? No. I'd like it to stay that way.

(If you’re a girl) Has anyone ever called you "shortie" instead of girl? no and i hope they dont

Do you have a deep voice? not really

Do you play games with boys/girls, like 'hard to get’? no thats dumb

Is there a Sonic where you live? yes i’m a whore for sonic

What do you like on your pizza? pepperoni or sausage

[gryffindorcls]

Meant To Be:  Chapter 6 (AU)

IT’S DAY SIX OF LOVESQUARE FLUFF WEEK 2020!!!

(LOL.  NO, IT MOST DEFINITELY IS NOT, BUT I MUST MAKE EACH POST LOOK THE SAME.  WE CAN ALL JUST PRETEND THAT THIS ISN���T TWO WEEKS LATE. *nervous laughter*) Thank you @lovesquarefluffweek​ for organizing this event!

Welcome back!  Today’s prompt is “AU”.

I PROMISE YOU ARE STILL READING THE SAME FIC.  IT WILL ALL MAKE SENSE IN THE END.  I based the entire fic on this chapter.  Also, this chapter is much longer than the other ones for...reasons.

I also collabed with @flashflashitsash!  She made some STUNNING art for this chapter.  You can find it here.

Enjoy!

---

BEGINNING

<— Previous    Next —->

AO3

FanFiction

Chapter 6: AU

“Rise and shine, Your Highness,” a loud grating voice called out, “It’s time to start your day!”

Adrien groaned, flipped onto his stomach, and smashed his pillow over his head. “Why do you sound so cheerful today, Plagg? You’re never happy this early in the morning.”

The older man drew the curtains with a flourish. “And why would I not be jumping for joy on a day where I get to attend a party and have access to a buffet?”

“So you’re telling me that you and the rest of the palace staff have the night off? I don’t know. The ball really seems like an ‘all-hands-on-deck’ kind of event.”

“No one has the night off, young prince. Not even you. Still, as Master of the Household, I am afforded certain opportunities.”

“Ahhh, so even though you don’t technically have the night off, somehow you’ve been given the chance to enjoy the party along with all the guests. I hope my father is aware of your plans.”

“Enjoy is a strong word. As per the king’s orders, someone has to keep you in line tonight; however, it’s not a crime to enjoy some expensive cheese while I’m at it.”

Adrien sat up. “I thought it was Nathalie’s job to keep me in line.”

“The Grand Duchess will have other matters to attend to tonight, so His Majesty enlisted me to keep a watchful eye on his son,” Plagg grumbled.

“I’m guessing those other matters include wooing my father?”

“And comments like that are precisely why he’s asked me to keep an eye on you. He wants me to make sure that you are the perfect gentleman at the ball.”

“I am aware of how my father wants me to conduct myself tonight. Pray tell, since when have I not followed his rules?”

“Ever since you met that girl in the market a few months ago.”

He felt a swell of emotion rise in his chest. “What can I say? Falling in love with my lady changed me.”

“And your clandestine meeting created more work for the rest of us. How I long for the days where you would stay on the palace grounds and attend to your duties,” the servant said with a heavy sigh.

“You say that as if you don’t enjoy breaking the rules, as well. What happened to the man who helped me escape last week?”

“Today, that man is old, tired, and hungry.”

“You never cease to amaze me, Plagg. How can you be both chaotic and lazy at the same time? Teach me your ways.”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t need any lessons in rule-breaking. You’re doing fine all on your own.”

“Only because I learned from the best.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Your Highness.”

Adrien did his best to hold back a smile. “While that may be true, your old cloak gets me everywhere I need to go.”

“For the love of all that is good in this world, please refrain from disappearing tonight.” Plagg pinched the bridge of his nose. “I would like to enjoy my evening at the ball without actually worrying about you.”

“I only disappear when it’s absolutely necessary.”

“Necessary to see your lady friend?”

“Precisely! And she’s coming tonight, so I have no need to leave the palace. You will be able to enjoy your disgusting cheese in peace.”

The door flew open and thudded against the wall. “Good morning, Your Highness! Isn’t it a wonderful day.”

“Not while you’re around,” Plagg mumbled under his breath.

Adrien glared at the older man. “Would you stop that? Even though he’s being strangely formal with his greeting this morning, Nino is like a brother to me.”

“Trust me, young sire, my aching bones are fully aware of that fact. I know that he’s your partner in crime.”

Nino shot Adrien a worried look. “He knows? What did you tell him?”

“Where do you think I got the cloak?” Adrien shrugged.

“You’re telling me that you got the idea for Chat Noir from him?”

Plagg scoffed. “Excuse me, but long ago and far away, I was Chat Noir. This fledgling over here is my successor.”

Nino smiled, tipped his hat, and bowed. “Good show, sir. May I just say that the cat ears on the cloak are a nice touch.”

“My darling Tikki came up with that idea. She even sewed them on for me. It helped us through the dark times we experienced under the former king’s rule.”

“Are you telling us that life is better with King Gabriel seated on the throne? Goodness, you have some low standards, old man,” Nino chuckled.

“You know I could have you beheaded for talking that way about the king.” Adrien threw his legs over the side of the bed.

“You could, but then you’d lose the greatest Captain of the Guard this kingdom has ever seen.”

“I’m sure we could find some eager, young recruit who would be up to the task.”

“But he wouldn’t be your best friend.”

Adrien stood up. “You’ve got me there.”

“All jokes aside, are you ready for tonight?” Nino asked with a grin.

“Surely you jest?” Plagg laughed, “He won’t stop talking about his ‘foolproof’ plan. That’s why he’s so tired this morning. He was up all night making sure everything was...oh, how did he put it? Purr-fect.”

“Wow,” Nino shook his head, “You’re really taking on that Chat Noir persona with gusto, aren’t you?”

He shook his head. “That’s just it, my friend. I think Chat Noir is who I’ve always been. When I put on the mask and cloak, I feel like I can finally be myself. I’m no longer Prince Adrien. I’m just...well, I’m just Adrien.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you are a prince.”

“Yes, but for a moment, I’m free to live my life as if I’m not. People treat me differently. They see past the jewels and title.”

“It’s not like anyone would know that you’re the prince anyway. You haven’t been paraded around in public since your mother died, and that was years ago. No one would recognize you.”

“Still, one can never be too careful.”

“With your dad around, I can’t argue with that.”

“Yes, especially with how unreasonable he’s been as of late.”

“He’s always unreasonable, but I agree. I can’t believe he reacted like that when you told him about the girl you met.”

“Well, I did meet her when I snuck out, and I know that he isn’t pleased about that. Unfortunately, I also know that he’s doing everything in his power to keep me from the love of my life. He wants me to marry a princess, but why can’t he see that my lady is royalty in my eyes. She would make an excellent queen one day.”

“Is that why he turned this event into a masquerade at the last minute?”

“Yes, and even though everyone will be wearing masks tonight, I will recognize my lady. Our love will help us find each other,” Adrien declared confidently.

“That and the dress you secretly commissioned Tikki to make for your lady friend,” Plagg noted.

Nino released a heavy sigh. “That was you? You’re the reason I haven’t seen Alya in a week? She and Tikki have been working on that gown day and night. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because the fewer people who knew the better.” Adrien hung his head. “You’ve been an amazing friend. You kept my escapades as Chat Noir a secret, and I didn’t want my crazy plan to outsmart my father to further jeopardize your position as Captain of the Guard.”

“You know I’d do anything for you. I consider you a part of my family.”

“I know, but contrary to popular belief, I’d like to actually keep you around.”

“I guess that’s good to hear. Thank you, brother.”

“Speaking of the wonderful Alya, I hope that she’s excited for tonight.”

“Honestly, she was surprised that she even got an invitation. Alya told me that while she was living in King André and Queen Audrey’s kingdom, they would have fabulous parties in which they never invited the ‘common folk’.”

“Alya is anything but common.”

Nino clapped his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I think I’m going to ask for her hand in marriage tonight.”

“Truly?” Adrien embraced his friend. “Congratulations. You are a lucky man.”

Plagg cleared his throat. “May I remind you that breakfast starts in fifteen minutes? I doubt you want your father in a foul mood today.”

“My father never eats breakfast with me. He’ll never know if I’m late.”

“He’s already in the dining hall counting down the minutes until your arrival.”

“WHAT?”

Adrien ran to his closet and threw open the door. He tossed on a pair of tight black pants, a billowing white shirt, and a green vest with gold embroidery.

“Do I look presentable?” he asked while pulling on his black riding boots.

“How you are able to look like that minutes after waking up I’ll never know,” Nino chuckled.

“I will take that as a ‘yes’.”

Plagg pulled out a pocket watch. “Now, you have three minutes to get downstairs.”

After taking a glance at himself in the mirror on his wall, Adrien ran out of his bedroom and bounded down the stairs. He took a moment to slow his breathing and adjust his vest before quietly walking into the dining hall and taking a seat.

“You’re late,” King Gabriel said without looking up from the papers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, father.” Adrien carefully placed his napkin in his lap. “It won’t happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t. You’ve been late for a lot of things recently. Is there anything you wish to tell me? You’re still not sneaking out to see that girl, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“I see. Well, I hope that you are prepared for this evening’s festivities.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Tonight’s event is very important for the future of our kingdom.”

“I am aware.”

“Also, I hope you are ready to announce who your future bride will be by the end of the night.”

Adrien choked on air. “Excuse me?”

King Gabriel put down the papers. “This ball is meant for you to choose a wife. I’ve invited plenty of royal families from neighboring kingdoms. Surely you’ll have no problem choosing someone suitable to rule by your side.”

“But father, we’ve never discussed anything like this. I thought tonight was merely a pre-coronation celebration.”

“It is, and at your coronation next week, you will have your future queen by your side.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Yes, Adrien.” The king leaned forward. “Come this time next week, you will have been declared the crown prince of this kingdom. Our citizens need to know that the royal line of succession remains intact. Having a fiancée will ensure the people that you will have an heir one day.”

“But why only one night to choose?” Adrien did his best to stay composed. “This is not one of our traditions. Mother was not by your side at your coronation.”

“We live in a different world now. Things are not as they were when I was your age.”

“That’s because grandfather was still king.”

“You will not speak of that man in my presence!”

“And why not?”

Gabriel paused and took a deep breath before returning his attention to his son. “Why the sudden hesitation to marry? You seemed all too eager when you told me about the commoner you met in the market.”

Anger continued to boil in Adrien’s gut. “Is that what all of this is about? I know that’s why you turned this into a masquerade, but would you really rather see me miserable than to love someone beneath our status?”

“I would rather see you in a strong political alliance than throw away your greatest bargaining chip for a frivolous romance with some girl.”

“So, my heart is a bargaining chip?”

“No, your hand in marriage is.”

“I love her, father.”

“You don’t even know her name.”

“It never came up, and I plan on learning it tonight.”

“Love and politics do not go hand in hand.”

“Then why were you allowed to love my mother? Or was all of that a lie?”

Both he and his father locked eyes as a tense silence fell between them. After several uncomfortable minutes, a quiet cough caused Adrien to break his stare.

Nathalie sauntered across the room and took her place next to the king. “Pardon my intrusion, sire.”

His father’s lips curled into a disconcerting smile. “Ahh, good morning, Grand Duchess. I trust the preparations for tonight are nearly complete.”

“Indeed they are, Your Majesty; however, I came here to remind Adrien that he has his final suit fitting in ten minutes.”

“Just as well.” Gabriel redirected his attention to his son. “It would be impolite for you to be late for your appointment with the seamstress. It is not proper to make life unreasonably difficult for our staff.”

“You’re one to talk,” Adrien mumbled under his breath.

The king slammed his hand against the table. “I beg your pardon?”

Not wanting to apologize for his insubordination, Adrien turned his head and looked at the entranceway to the dining hall. Plagg stood silently in the threshold with Nino by his side. Seeing his support system reminded him of all that he had experienced as Chat Noir over the past several months.

He’d found freedom.

He’d found love.

He’d found a life.

And now his father was threatening to take all of it away. Adrien knew that he had to do everything in his power to find the right girl at the ball, and at that moment, he realized that his lady needed to be able to find him, as well.

A wave of confidence washed away the anger. “I don’t want to wear the white suit tonight. I want to wear black.”

“What did I say about making things difficult for the servants?” Gabriel seethed.

“I have a black suit.”

“Black is for funerals, Adrien. This is meant to be a joyous occasion.”

“Is it? I had no idea.”

“Excuse me?”

“May I interject, Your Majesty,” Plagg said, stepping into the room.

Gabriel looked at the servant. “Yes, please come in. Anything to help my son see reason.”

“Actually, I was going to suggest a compromise.”

“Oh, how very diplomatic, Plagg. My son could learn a thing or two from you.”

“Thank you, my lord. I noticed that tensions were running high, and I know that several royal families are staying here at the palace. I thought it might be important for our guests to see us looking calm and collected. Also, getting ourselves worked up now will do us no favors for our moods come this evening.”

“As per usual, you’re absolutely right. We shouldn’t let our emotions get the best of us. Let’s hear your suggestion.”

“What if the prince wore his blue suit? He looked rather becoming in it at your birthday dinner last month.”

“If I recall things correctly, that suit had a tear on the sleeve.”

“Yes, Your Highness, but our seamstress could mend it in a matter of minutes.”

Gabriel tapped his chin. “Very well. Have one of the maids fetch my son’s blue suit and bring it to Tikki.”

“I shall bring it to her myself.” Plagg bowed and exited the room.

The king turned towards Adrien. “As for you, I expect your best behavior tonight. There will be serious consequences if I find that you are rude to our guests.”

Every muscle in his body felt tense. “I would never be rude to our guests. They have done nothing wrong. However, don’t expect me to fall in love with anyone new tonight.”

“Let’s just see what happens at the ball.”

“Yes, let’s.”

“You may take your leave now, Adrien. You don’t want to keep Tikki waiting.” Gabriel dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

“I will see you at the ball, father.” Adrien stood, bowed, and exited the room.

When he turned the corner and began walking down the long corridor towards Tikki’s chambers, Nino grabbed him by the arm, stopping him in his tracks.

“What was that?” his friend hissed through gritted teeth, “I’ve never seen you talk to your father that way? I’m all for thwarting his evil plans behind his back, but do you really think that was wise? This isn’t like you.”

Adrien pulled his arm out of Nino’s grip and continued walking towards his destination. “I’m tired of not being heard.”

“You will have plenty of time to be heard when you are king.”

“Yes, but forcing me to choose a bride tonight is his way of making sure that he’s able to maintain some control even when I am the king. He’s setting up political alliances, and if my father gets his way, I’ll always be his puppet. This morning proved to me that I’m merely a pawn in whatever sick game he’s been playing behind the scenes, and I’ll have no more of it.”

“Are you insinuating that your father is actually up to something nefarious? I was kidding about the whole ‘evil plan’ thing before.”

“Honestly, I’ve had my suspicions for a while, but this confirms it for me. He obviously doesn’t care about my happiness, so I don’t care what his plans are. He had my mother; therefore, I am well within my rights to marry for love. I will find my lady tonight, and if she’ll have me, I will ask her to be my bride.”

“Then it’s a good thing that dress is almost complete,” Plagg chuckled as Adrien entered Tikki’s room.

Relief washed over him. “It is?”

“Indeed, Your Highness,” Tikki replied cheerfully, “I just have to finish sewing on the beading. Would you like to see it?”

“Yes, please.”

“Come with me.”

The seamstress motioned for Adrien to follow, and he happily obliged. She led him into a large storage space filled with dozens of dress forms, but a floor-length ball gown made of shiny red satin immediately caught his eye. Intricate beading glittered in the closet’s dim light and covered the dress’s bodice with swirling patterns. The sleeves draped delicately off the mannequin’s shoulders and met in the middle to create a sweetheart neckline.

“Tikki.” Adrien ran his fingers along the smooth fabric on the skirt. “You and Alya did an amazing job. My lady will love the dress.”

The older woman smiled. ‘I’m happy you like it, Your Highness.”

“I love it.”

“Did you tell your lady friend what to say to my apprentice when she goes to retrieve it from the shop?”

“Yes, I spoke with her last night. She knows to tell Alya that the dress is from Chat Noir. I also gave her the pink rose and told her to use it as payment.”

“And I will make sure that her invitation is with the dress when she comes to pick it up.”

“Excellent.”

“Everything's in order. You have nothing to worry about, Your Highness. Now, shoo! I must finish this dress and have it sent into town!”

“Thank you, Tikki!”Adrien laughed, backed out of the storage closet, and bumped into Nino.

“Hey!” Nino exclaimed, rubbing his arm.

“Sorry. I was too busy trying to memorize how that dress looked.”

“I’ll let it slide this time.”

“Thank you.”

“So, was it all you hoped it would be?”

“It’s a stunning gown, and I’ll have no trouble recognizing my lady...as long as she’s the one wearing it. What if this doesn’t work? What if something goes wrong? Now that my father wants me to choose a bride tonight, there’s so much more at stake.”

Nino put his hands on Adrien’s shoulders. “Breathe, my friend. That dress is only meant to be one way for you to recognize your lady. Surely there are other things that you can use to confirm her identity.”

“You’re right.” Adrien nodded. “I would know my lady anywhere. I have a whole list of things that I can use to make sure that I’m dancing with the right girl tonight.”

“Well, it’s time for your fencing lesson. You can tell me all about your list on the way there.”

Adrien felt some of his nervousness melt away. “Excellent! First, let me tell you about her eyes.”

“Something tells me that it’s going to be a long day,” Nino groaned.

“Oh, just wait until I tell you about the song I heard in a dream! When I sang it for her, she kissed me!”

“How many more things are on your list, Adrien?”

“I’m just getting started, Nino, and I’ve got all day until the ball begins!”

Over the next few hours, Adrien went to his fencing lesson, talked with his best friend, gave the musicians the sheet music for the song he’d sung for his lady, attended to an array of princely duties, and got ready for the ball. Once he was dressed in his navy blue suit, he fastened his mask to his face with a ribbon and placed a silver crown on his head. He then made his way to the ballroom.

Once inside, Adrien kept his eyes glued on the door. He was vaguely aware of the crowds of people and lively music that swirled around him, but the only thing he could hear was the sound of his heart pounding against his eardrums. His anxiousness grew with each passing thump.

“Are you okay, brother?” Nino asked, tapping him on the shoulder, “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

He wiped his hands against his pants. “No, I’m not okay. She’s not here yet. I fear something may have happened to her.”

“Well, Alya took the dress to Tikki’s shop a few hours ago, and your lady friend is probably still getting ready.”

“What if my lady forgot what to say to Alya? What if Alya doesn’t believe that my lady is the one who was meant to wear the dress? What if…”

Nino cut him off, “I’m sure everything will work out. If something happened with the dress, you have plenty of other ways to make sure that you pick the right girl. Remember?”

Adrien nodded. “Yes, my lady is much more than the dress she’ll put on tonight. I will be able to recognize her.”

“Exactly! You have the song that you heard in the dream.”

“And there’s the color of her eyes and her love of pink.”

“By the end of tonight, you will know your lady’s name, and she will be your future bride.”

“Only if she says yes.”

“If she’s anything like she is in the stories you’ve told me, you don’t have anything to worry about. It sounds like she’s pretty enamored with you, as well,” Nino laughed.

“I hope so.” Adrien took a deep breath. “Otherwise this is going to be an awkward night.”

The doors at the top of the stairs swung open, and Adrien’s knees went weak when he saw a guest who was wearing his commissioned dress appear on the balcony. Time stood still as the raven-haired woman floated down the stairs and across the room. He thought he was going to pass out when she finally stopped in front of him.

The woman curtsied. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

His gaze remained transfixed on the woman. “Good evening, my…”

Everything inside of Adrien stopped when their eyes met. Behind the red and gold mask that covered the top half of her face, he was met with two shining, brown irises, not the bright ocean blue he’d been expecting,

“Are you alright?” she asked with worry lacing her voice, “Do you feel unwell?”

He shook his head and fought back tears that had begun to pool in his eyes. “My most sincere apologies, miss. I mistook you for someone else.”

“Well, I’m afraid you and I have never met. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Princess Kagami Tsurugi.”

“Ahhhh, yes. I remember my father mentioning that you and your mother were coming to stay with us. I apologize for not coming to see you when you arrived. Are you enjoying your visit to our kingdom?”

“I am! I even met someone who is supposed to be working here tonight. I fear that I may have promised to spend the evening with him, and I didn’t really plan on dancing with you. I hope you’re not upset. I know my mother is. She likes it when I follow the rules and spending the night with a commoner definitely goes against her rules.”

“I completely understand. My father isn’t too happy with me right now either.” Adrien took both of Kagami’s hands in his own and chuckled. “Trust me when I say that I’m not offended, princess. As long as we’re both being honest, I wasn’t really planning on dancing with you either. I’m still waiting for someone to arrive.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, a girl.”

“Is she also a commoner?”

“Yes.”

“And that is why your father is angry.”

“He doesn’t want me to marry beneath my status.”

“Then we live very similar lives.”

“It appears that way.” Adrien paused before continuing. “Also, I don’t know how or why, but you’re wearing her dress.”

“I am? Is that why you thought I was someone else?” Kagami cocked her head to the side. “Did you think I was her?”

“I did. May I inquire as to how you obtained the gown?”

“The Grand Duchess brought it to my room this afternoon.”

“Nathalie?”

“I believe that was her name, yes.”

Adrien turned to Nino. “Now do you see what I mean about my father? He has to be up to something.”

“Is it bad for me to say that I’m not surprised?” Nino asked, shaking his head.

“Not at all. I’ve come to expect this kind of nonsense from him over the past few months.”

“Well, brother, tonight is not the night to be thinking about your father. Right now, we need to focus on finding your lady.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kagami looked between both boys.

Adrien sighed. “I’m not sure. Right now my lady is without a dress and an invitation. There’s no way for her to get into the palace, and I have no idea where she is right now.”

Nino rubbed his chin. “We could always check her house.”

“I can’t just leave.” Adrien pointed to the balcony overlooking the dancefloor. “My father is quite literally watching my every move, and I don’t want Plagg to get in trouble. Remember, he’s supposed to be ‘watching’ me.”

“Then, let’s just wait for Alya. I’m sure she could help us come up with something.”

“Are you two talking about me behind my back?” Alya laughed, entering the conversation.

“Perfect timing, as always, my love,” Nino leaned over and kissed Alya on the cheek.

“Yeah, yeah. Enough sweet talk. I have to tell you two about the night I had.” She turned to look at Kagami. “Or should I say three of you?”

Adrien scratched the back of his head. “We’re having an interesting night, as well.”

“Considering that’s the red dress that made me age ten years in two hours, I’m guessing that you know part of what I’m about to tell you.”

“We don’t know much. Princess Kagami just told us that Nathalie brought the dress to her room this afternoon.”

“Wait,” Alya turned to the woman in the dress, “you’re Kagami? My best friend told me all about you.”

“Oh, you must be Alya.” Kagami clasped her hands in front of her. “She told me all about you, as well. I was hoping to meet you here tonight.”

“She told me that she introduced you to Luka.”

“Yes, I did get the chance to meet him.”

“I also heard that you two kissed by the fountain last night.”

Kagami smirked. “A princess never kisses and tells.”

Alya chuckled. “I can see why she likes you. I’m sure she’d be happy to know that you’re the one who accidentally received her dress.”

“Hold on.” Adrien held up his hand. “Are you telling me that your best friend is the person who was supposed to get this dress? You know my lady?”

“Your lady? There’s only one person who calls her that. Wait...you’re Chat Noir?” Alya pointed an accusatory finger in his direction. “You’re the masked gentleman who’s visited my best friend almost every single night for the past three months?”

“Guilty as charged.”

“So, that means that you’re the one who commissioned the dress?”

“Yes, and I’m desperate to know what happened.”

Alya nodded. “Of course. Umm...let’s see, Tikki sent me into town with the dress once it was completed. I waited for about an hour, and the Grand Duchess told me that the dress was from Chat Noir, and she gave me a pink rose as payment. Tikki told me that the person who did those two things was the rightful owner of the dress, so I gave it to her.”

“And what about my lady?”

“You keep calling her ‘your lady’. Do you not know her name?”

“If we’re being fair, she doesn’t know mine, and I plan on asking her what it is once I find her. Right now you’re the only one who can help us.”

“Point taken. Well, when she came into the shop, she also said the right words and tried to give me the rose, and that’s when I knew that there had been a terrible mistake. I was about to give her my dress and invitation when Tikki arrived and saved the day. All the dresses in the shop had been cleared out, so I don’t know where Tikki found the one that she gave her.”

Adrien breathed a sigh of relief. “So, she did get a dress?”

“Yes,” Alya replied with a reassuring smile, “And Tikki gave her an invitation.”

“Do you know where she is now?”

The doors once again swung open, revealing another raven-haired woman; however, unlike Kagami, this guest wore a pale pink ball gown with a skirt that billowed behind her. Her arms hugged the form-fitting bodice of her dress as she scanned the room from behind a matching mask. When her eyes locked with Adrien’s, she offered him a tiny wave and beamed. He returned the gesture, and she gracefully descended the stairs. All the air left his lungs when she began to walk towards him.

“It’s her,” he whispered.

Alya placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is, and it’s time for the three of us to leave you two alone.”

“I’ll go ask Luka to play the song we gave him earlier today.” Nino then turned to Kagami. “Come, Your Highness. I will show you where the musicians are.”

“That would be greatly appreciated,” Kagami said with a smile, “Good luck, Prince Adrien.”

“Mmmhmm,” he said absentmindedly, “Thanks."

Even as the trio walked away, his eyes remained glued to the woman who was slowly making her way across the room. He desperately wanted to run through the crowd, sweep her off her feet, and hold her close, but he knew that his father was still watching; therefore, he made the difficult decision to hold his position.

She quickened her pace the last few feet, crashed into him, and pulled him into a tight embrace. “I’m so happy to see you, Chaton. You’ll never believe the night I’ve had.”

Adrien wrapped his arms around her and felt fully at peace for the first time that night. “Good evening, my lady. Words cannot describe how overjoyed I am that you are finally here.”

“I apologize for not wearing the dress you got me, but there was a little mix-up at the shop.”

“I heard, and I don’t care. All that matters is that you are here and that you are safe.”

“But how did you know that it was me?”

“I could see your beautiful blue eyes from across the room.”

“Really?”

“Yes, and considering the number of times I’ve gotten lost in your eyes, I would recognize them anywhere.”

“Stop! You’re going to make me blush. How do you always manage to say the most wonderful things?”

“My words come straight from the heart when I’m with you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because you bring out the best in me.”

Her cheeks grew red as she pulled away from the embrace and tapped him on the nose. “Alright, kitty-cat, am I supposed to listen to your sweet talk all night, or are we going to dance?”

He took one of her hands, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “I am ready to do whatever the lady wishes.”

Adrien’s gesture sent her into a fit of giggles that came to an abrupt halt. “Is that a crown?”

“This is it,” his mind reassured him, “Now’s your chance to tell her who you really are.”

“Yes,” he stated with as much confidence as he could muster.

“Oh.” She visibly swallowed. “Is it part of your masquerade costume or are you wearing it for another reason?”

“I wear it every day. My father would be very upset if I took it off. He’s been watching me all night, so he would know if I did.”

“Your father?”

Adrien pointed to the lofted space where his father and several other dignitaries sat with stone-faced expressions. When she turned her head to look, Adrien watched her hands clench the fabric on her skirt.

“My lady?” he asked tentatively, “How are you feeling?”

“I’m f-fine,” she squeaked, “Is your father the one sitting on the throne?”

“Yes.”

She spun around and faced him. “You’re Prince Adrien?”

His heart sank at the sight of tears shining in her eyes. “I am.”

“Your Highness,” she said quickly, curtsying low, “I am not worthy to stand in your presence. I apologize for my inappropriate behavior. I’ll take my leave.”

“Wait!” He reached out and gently grabbed her hand, “Are you leaving because my title makes you nervous, or are you leaving because you don’t want to be with me anymore?”

“I want to be with you more than anything. My heart aches when you leave me each night.”

“Then stay. Please.”

“I’m not royalty.”

“You could be.”

“I’m just a baker’s daughter. I’m not special.”

Adrien leaned in. “Yes, you are. You’re purr-fect.”

She laughed and wiped a stray tear with the back of her hand. “You really are my Chaton, aren’t you?”

“I am. This is why I didn’t tell you that I was the prince. I wanted you to get to know me without all of the distractions that come with the crown. Can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive.”

“You’re not angry?”

“No,” she shook her head, “I understand. Your instincts were right. I probably would have run away from you if I had known the truth.”

He took her hands. “Are you going to run away now?”

“Now why would I go and do something like that? You still haven’t given me that dance you promised.”

“Is that so?”

The song being played by the musicians faded away, and the lilting sound of a familiar melody began to resonate throughout the ballroom. Adrien took his lady’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Is that what I think it is?” Her voice was laced with disbelief.

Adrien nodded. “It is.”

“I thought you said that you heard that song in a dream.”

“I did, and it plays in my head every time I think of you. It was driving me insane, and I finally had to write it down after a few days. I gave the sheet music to Luka, and Nino just asked him to play it.”

“Does this mean that I finally get to dance with you?”

“Yes, my lady.”

He pulled her close and placed one of his hands on her waist. She rested her free hand on his shoulder, and they began to glide across the floor. For a moment, everything else in the room melted away, and the only thing left was the incredible woman in his arms.

All too soon, the song ended and the rest of the world came crashing back into focus. He became painfully aware of his father’s overbearing glare, and his brain desperately searched for a way to be alone with his lady.

“It’s getting kind of warm in here,” Adrien mumbled, tugging at his collar.

“Perhaps we could go outside?” she shrugged.

“That’s a wonderful idea. I can show you the palace gardens.” He held out his arm for her to take.

She smiled and linked her arm with his, and he quickly escorted her out of the ballroom, down the hall, and through a set of doors that led to the gardens. They walked in a comfortable silence until they reached a quiet corner that was hidden by a willow tree in full bloom. Within the tiny space, there was a white gazebo and dozens of rose bushes.

“They’re all pink.” She reached out and touched the petals of a rose in full bloom.

Adrien felt a pang of sadness shoot through his heart. “This was my mother’s favorite spot. She planted all of the bushes here. When I was younger, we’d sit inside the gazebo, and she’d read me all kinds of stories.”

“That’s a beautiful memory. Thank you for showing me this place.”

“She would have loved you. Probably almost as much as I do.”

He heard her breath catch. “What did you say?”

“I think I may have just told you that I love you,” he chuckled.

“You’ve never said that to me before.”

“I mean it, my lady. I love you with all that I am.”

“But you’re the prince, and I’m just a commoner.”

“That doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

“What does that mean for us then?”

“It means that I want us to be together.”

“Your father wouldn’t approve.”

“I don’t care what my father thinks. He’s not going to be king forever.”

“Okay.” She walked into the gazebo and sat down on a bench. “Let’s say we do begin courting. Then what would happen? It’s not like we could have a normal relationship.”

Adrien took a seat next to her. “My lady, our relationship thus far has been anything but normal.”

“True, but still! How would this even work?”

“Well, by the end of the ball, I am expected to choose a bride. If you’ll have me, when we go back inside, I will declare you as my future wife. Then you will stand by my side at my coronation next week, and in a year’s time we’ll be wed.”

“You want me to marry you?”

“More than anything in this world. You’re already a princess in my eyes, why not make it official?”

“A princess?”

“Yes, the wife of the crown prince becomes a princess. Then, when I become king, you would become my queen.”

“Queen?”

“My lady, you are the most incredible person I’ve ever met. Even in the face of great hardship, you manage to stay positive and selfless. You have the kindest heart and the quickest mind. This kingdom would be lucky to have you as it’s queen. You make my life better and brighter, and I would love nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you.”

She smiled and choked back a sob. “I love you, too.”

“Are those happy tears?” Using his thumb, Adrien wiped the wetness off of one of her cheeks.

“Yes.” She nodded into his hand. “They’re very happy tears. I love you, too.”

He laughed, took her hands, and got down on one knee. “In that case, my beautiful lady, will you marry me?”

“Yes.” She pulled him to his feet and threw her arms around him. “A thousand times, yes!”

Adrien picked her up and spun her around, causing her to giggle. When he placed her back onto the ground, he kept her in his arms and rested his forehead against hers.

Without letting go, he pulled away. “There’s just one thing that you need to do before I can go back inside and tell my father that I made my decision.”

“Oh,” she said, looking up, “and what might that be?”

“I need you to tell your name.”

“My goodness, I never told you what it was, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. You didn’t want to tell me what it was during our first meeting, and I didn’t want to upset you by asking again.”

“You should have said something! I feel so silly now.”

“Don’t, my lady. We had an interesting start to our relationship. We both chose not to disclose our names, so it makes sense why you would choose to keep something like that to yourself.”

“I just got so used to hearing you call me ‘your lady’, that I forgot to tell you.”

She let go of his hands, took a step back, untied the ribbon holding her mask in place, and smiled. “My name is Marinette.”

Joy flooded his body and his mind began to spin. Her name sounded like the sweetest symphony. Adrien felt himself falling in love with her all over again. Everything made sense. His lady was Marinette, and all was right with the world.

Then, everything faded to black.

***

Adrien’s eyes flicked open. His heart was racing and he gasped for air. His mind scrambled to hold onto the memory of the dream that was slowly fading away.

“My lady is Marinette,” he whispered.

Plagg groaned. “Kid, why are you awake? It is three o’clock in the morning, and I thought I told you not to wake me up.”

“Ladybug is Marinette.”

“Finally.”

“Marinette is Ladybug.”

“Yes, we’ve already established that.”

“I’m not in love with two people.”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to be up for the rest of the night talking about this.”

“How can I sleep at a time like this?”

“Just close your eyes or something,” Plagg grumbled, “You can finish having your existential crisis in the morning.”

He turned away from his Kwami and let his mind race. “She was right next to me the entire time.”

Adrien grabbed his phone, tapped the screen, and pulled up a new browser. He only had eighteen hours to figure out how to tell Ladybug that he knew who she was. And right now, all he could do was hope that she wanted to know his identity, as well.

And he could also buy flowers. Lots and lots of flowers.

[stonebreakerseries]

Character Introduction Series

PART 1: DELVER (2638 words)

A piece taking place six years pre-Stonebreaker, when Delver is twenty-five and finally traveling beyond the Allied Kingdoms.

“Very well, then. That will be one drem for the parchment, two crests for the ink.”

“Oh, is that all? Are you sure you don’t want to make it two and three?” Fingers fishing through his leather pouch, Delver tried to ignore the way the coins more slid past each other than collided, so empty were his coffers. “Most people are a little more ambitious when they rob me blind.”

The clerk's pale gaze, sequestered behind a pair of thick eyeglasses, expressed no amusement at the comment. “Supplies are set at a standard rate for scribes and notaries within Illazio. In eastern currency, it is one iron drem for parchment, two silver crests for city ink.” After a slight pause the clerk, clearly determining that he was in conversation with a simpleton, raised three slender fingers. “Three coins, total.“

That little bastard.

Delver made a point of aggressively clicking the coins onto the stone counter one. by. one. The clerk, ever-helpful, lowered a finger each time.

The smell of road dust and horse-shit arrived like a slap as Delver shouldered his way out of the scrivery, the roll of paper already half-way into his pack as he navigated the narrow stairs to the street. Hands occupied, he held the dark, slender ink vial gingerly between his teeth, silently praying that he was not overtaken by a sudden compulsion to bite down. He’d heard enough horror-stories about Illazio ink to know that if he so much as spilled a drop on his skin, his children’s children would be born with the stain. Yes, he recalled a particular scribe in Milenus whose pet cat---

A sharp whistle snapped Delver’s attention upwards. He grunted, skittering back, narrowly avoiding a passing wagon as it juddered drunkenly down the street. Grumbling, he moved a little further aside, extracted the vial from his lips and wrapping it in what was left of his spare shirt. Well, technically the shirt he was wearing was his spare shirt. Divider, he needed an alarming amount of supplies. With exchange rates being what they were, it was going to be a miserable few days.

Tucking the swaddled vial into the center of the pack, cushioned from any potential knocks and blows, Delver eventually nodded, swung it onto his back, and straightened with a soft groan. As the denizens of the street bustled to and fro, he pulled in a deep breath, held it, and let it out.

Then, he grinned.

Illazio ink.

Just getting his hands on it made the trip so far north worth it. Sure, it had added a good two-turns to his planned course, but what was twenty days when you practically lived your life on the road? Besides, it’s not like he had anything better to do. Or anywhere to be. Or anyone waiting for him.

Slowly, his smile wavered. As if to mask its demise, Delver ran a hand down his face, his rough beard scraping against the underside of this glove. He could use a drink. A proper shave, too. Divider, when was the last time he paid someone to take a razor to his face? Probably not since setting foot in the Empire. You could never be too careful, these days. Sure, some folks would say a barber’s a barber no matter where you went, but in Delver’s mind, it was still best to avoid paying strangers from opposing lands to hold a blade to your throat. Shit, Delver had friends who would refuse on the grounds of it being just a little too tempting.

At the thought of such friends, Delver sighed and squinted at the sky. A deep pool of indigo was beginning to edge across from the west, pushing the dusty day out towards the desert. It was probably time to go. He should hurry. That damn woman hated drinking alone.

Stepping into the crowd, Delver let himself to be swept up by the current flowing deeper into the heart of the city.

“You spent how much on ink!?”

Grinning, Delver raised his hands in mock surrender. “Come on, Cresha! Don’t be mad. How was I meant to come to Illazio and not buy it? In my field, that’s practically a crime.”

“You know what else is a crime? Me murdering you.” Like lightning, her hand snapped out, swatting his shoulder. “Fucking seriously--- ink, Delver? What about a new shirt, huh? Or some boots without holes in them?”

Rubbing his arm defensively, Delver fixed his companion with an exasperated look. “First of all, let’s stop pretending this is just any ink. It’s Illazio ink.” He was quicker this time, ducking out of range. “Second of all - ouch! Haven’t we talked enough about the hitting? I’m not some shit-bag mercenary you can throw punches at whenever you like.”

“Then stop deserving it.” Groaning, Cresha slumped, her hand curling around her mug of ale. Slowly, she drew it towards her chest, the heavy wood grating a low staccato over the chipped surface of the table. If misery had a sound, Delver figured that would be it.

“You bring out the worst in me,” she muttered after a moment, gaze lost in her mug. “You really do.”

“... Was that to me or the drink?”

“Fuck off.” Cresha slouched across, skimming the foam off her ale in a long, beleaguered slurp. “I hope you starve to death.”

Delver laughed softly, resting an elbow on the back of his chair. “Divider knows I like to push my luck in that regard.” He sniffed the air, twisting to look about the crowded room. “Speaking of, did you order supper while you were waiting?”

Cresha’s eyes were hard as stone as they leered over the rim of her mug. “Sure did. You’re looking at it.”

Just like that, she had walked right into his trap. “Really? An ale, Cresha? What about soup? Or a pair of roasted---FUCK!”

This time, she got him under the table.

“Ale does me just fine,” she said with a shrug as Delver hissed and cradled his shin. “You’re the one that’s skin and bones around here, not me.” Taking a long gulp for emphasis, she gasped contently, setting it down with a hearty thump. “When was the last time you ate a proper meal, anyway?”

“What are you, my mother?”

“No, I’m your physick, smart-ass. Stop giving me lip for doing my job.” She regarded him for a moment, before puffing a dark curl from her face. “Or did you drag me all the way to the Khathi Empire so I could watch you die somewhere scenic?”

Turning, she waved theatrically towards the window, where the outskirts of the Redesan desert loomed far in the distance. Delver rolled his eyes, shifting to prop his head sullenly on his palm. He no longer cared about the stickiness of the table or his throbbing leg. Mainly because she had a point, and he’d rather skin his own tongue than admit it. “I thought healers were meant to be compassionate,” he muttered. “Soft-spoken. Kind.”

Cresha quirked a thin brow. “Then I think you need to decide what it is you actually want. Besides, you knew what you were signing up for. I’m pretty upfront.”

She had him there.

Eventually, after some time spent digging through his near-empty purse, Delver managed to stir enough pity in Cresha’s iron heart to earn him a bowl of stew and a heel of stale bread - the bread’s staleness being a stipulation on her part. A confused wench left and soon returned with a bowl smelling vaguely like meat and potato and some kind of grain. Boot-leather taste and consistency aside, Delver soon found himself shoveling the steaming liquid down his throat with predatory efficiency, barely pausing for breath yet alone polite conversation. Then, he discovered if he soaked the rock-hard bread long enough, it became halfway edible. That revelation alone was like dawn over the northern wastes; a bright and blissful triumph in a cold, dark place.

By the time he finally surfaced for air, most of the bowl was picked fastidiously clean, and Cresha was watching him with an expression caught somewhere between fascination and horror. “Divider’s Own...” she breathed, before a sudden laugh bubbled out of her, taking them both by surprise. “Fuck me, it’s like watching a street dog go at a steak.”

“It was good stew,” Delver lied, using a piece of leftover bread to polish the already shining bowl. He actually wasn’t sure when he last had a hot meal. It was mostly dried rations, out on the road. Cooking only worked if you could hunt. Cresha rarely had the patience, and unless a rabbit hopped into his lap and died, Delver was pretty much out of luck. Sure, he’d boiled a mushroom or a root vegetable here and there, but that came with its own risks in foreign places. Or rewards, depending on the side-effects.

Frankly, his ongoing survival was something of a miracle.

“Found a job for you, by the way.”

Delver glanced up, jaw working hard on the piece of bread. “Hmumpf?”

Thankfully, they had learned over the past year to translate each other’s groans and grunts. “Yeah. Rich lady this time. Wants you to take a look at some family heirloom.” Cresha shrugged, hefting her ale. She seemed poised to drink until a new thought beat her to it. “Told her you weren’t an evaluator, but she said something about a section in a strange language. Figured that was more your thing, so I said you’d take it.”

Giving up, Delver swallowed with a grimace, the bread scraping all the way down to his stomach. With a watery-eyed cough, he gave a short nod. “Yeah. Great. Sounds good.” He cleared his throat. “Good price?”

“Apparently the Illazi cipher quoted six crests.” When Delver wrinkled his nose, Cresha’s lips curled into a cat-like grin. “Yeah, my thoughts exactly. So I talked her up to a sicet. You’re welcome.” Delver’s brows shot straight upwards and Cresha raised her mug in mock salute. “Not bad, huh? But I reckon you could swing a bit more if you clean yourself up tonight. She seemed the lonely sort, if you take my meaning.”

His surprise quickly devolved into a exasperated groan. “I think I whore myself out enough as it is, thank-you-very-much. Besides, I'd rather not set that precedent. You’ve met some of my clients.”

Cresha gave a theatrical shudder and took another swig of ale, as though the image had a sour taste that she could wash away. “S’pose I shouldn’t be condoning that shit. Makes my life a whole lot harder if you go and pick something up.”

“Can we not talk about this?”

“The lotions for that sort of thing smell terrible.”

“I just finished eating.”

“And the blisters? They’ll soak right thorough your smallclothes. Ain’t a weaver alive who could get those stains out.”

“If I pay one of the wenches, do you think she’ll come over and kill me?”

“And there you go again, wasting coin! Just talk with one for five minutes. She’d probably do it for free.” Smirking, Cresha finally chose mercy, draining the rest of her ale and letting the topic die. “Anyway,” she continued as she slid the empty mug to the table’s edge, “told the good Lady Balsari you’d be over by noon tomorrow. Should give you enough time to scrape off a few layers of grime.”

“I’m not that dirty.” Glancing down, Delver plucked gingerly at his shirt, then leaned in to sniff it. He quickly changed the subject. “So, ah, do you think you could get me for a room for tonight? And probably a bath. I’ll pay you ba---”

---“Already done.” At Delver’s shocked stare, Cresha cocked a brow. “What? I knew you were coming into paying work. Unlike some people, I spend coin wisely.”

“Sure,” Delver muttered sullenly. “My coin.”

“Hey, my payment, my coin. Doesn’t matter how broke you are, good help doesn’t come cheap.” Sighing, Cresha leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms to either side. Her leather coat creaked with the movement - he still had no idea how she kept that on without suffering heat-sickness. Maybe it was all the hot-air she expelled while tormenting him. A faint smile quirked up the corner of Delver’s lips as one of the wenches stacked their dishes onto a wooden tray. Sure, Cres was expensive, but she was worth the cost. Especially if she kept getting him jobs.

Maybe only if she kept getting him jobs.

Suddenly, his empty purse felt heavy in an entirely new way. When was her next payment...?

“You done staring, lech?” Cresha demanded suddenly. Her tone was impatient, but there was something amused in the dark glimmer of her eyes.

“That depends. Are you done stretching?” Grinning wickedly, Delver quickly tucked his legs under his chair, barely saving himself from another shin-splintering kick. “Okay, okay - peace! I was just... I was just thinking, that’s all.”

His tone shifted as he spoke, something somber creeping past the mischievous facade. Cresha, never one to let anything slip by without thorough interrogation, regarded him for a moment. When he didn’t immediately elaborate, her face tightened slightly. He knew that look well; she was gathering all the pieces of a scowl, just in case she needed them in a hurry.

“Alright, fine. I’ll bite. What were you thinking about?”

“I wasn’t trying to...” Sighing, Delver just shook his head. “I was just thinking about how long I can keep this up for. That’s all.”

“This?”

“You know. All of it. The traveling, the here-and-there work, you.” Overcome by a wave of self-consciousness, Delver shrugged awkwardly. He reached up and ran a hand over his mouth, as if to somehow hide behind it. “You’re from here, aren’t you? Bylea, I mean.”

Cresha snorted. “So what if I am? You’re from Calvaron. Doesn’t mean you feel the need to put down roots every time you set foot through the gate.”

Well, there was no arguing that. Just the thought of Calvaron - even Signea as a whole - left a bitter taste in Delver’s mouth. Unlike Cres, he didn’t have anything to wash it away with. “So you aren’t planning to head home for a while?”

“Nah.” She waved a hand, as though to disperse the question in the dusty air. “Never was. When you stop paying, I’ll probably just head east. Do some work in cooler weather for a change. Do you have any idea how fucking hot this coat gets out here?”

A grin slowly spread across Delver’s face, and he laughed, feeling a little lighter somehow. Maybe it was because, at least for a while more, they’d still be heading in the same direction. It was nice, not being alone on the road. Even if he had to pay good coin for the company.

Or maybe it was because her idea of home wasn’t too far from his own. They’d learned a lot about each other, over the past year, but where they were from wasn’t much of a topic for conversation. He had a feeling they both preferred it that way.

“Well...” Groaning, Delver used the table to push himself up, his muscles protesting their burden. It’d take a few days of rest for the road-aches to fully go away. Just in time for him to gather them all back again on the trip to the Crossroads. “Guess I’d better get scrubbing, huh?”

“Mmhm. Guess you’d better.” Smirking, Cresha flagged one of the wenches, ignoring the way Delver rolled his eyes to the ceiling. As he headed towards the stairs, Cresha’s voice drifted after him. “Hey, don’t go passing out in the tub!”

“Oh for fuck’s--- that was one time!”

“One’s enough!”

[jinniesxlamp]

Goodbye, Hello - Chapter 7

LIST OF CHAPTERS –> Masterlist

The week went by agonizingly fast, although it were better days than what you have been dealing with lately. Visiting Myunghwa helped a lot with resolving unecessary thoughts and feelings you had against yourself, remembering what she had taught you to master best—tranquility, almost losing your very own touch of it.

Ever since Myunghwa passed away, the stillness you had within started to slip from your fingers, without notice; your arrogance was starting to surface, impatience, sarcasm and insensitivity towards the people around you. You took the chance to meditate with your remaining days in Jeju, taking the advice from Chairman Byeon, preparing yourself to return as a better person, a better boss and not a dismantled one.

Today was going to be different, you thought to yourself. Your heart raced from the nervousness you felt, anticipating what you had to face since the huge scandal you had caused days prior. All those people you hurt and shamed, not to mention the poor boy you must have traumatized. Not only that....Lee Jooheon, the memory was vague during that drunked night, but you remembered the significant parts of it. Just as you were ready to face the day with a new perspective, a little bit of bad luck always had to squeeze itself in.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips, dreading to deal with this early morning misfortune causing a growing traffic jam in the middle of Gangnam. Moving your flat-tired car to the curb made you quadruple think, afraid it might cause another problem, but you delivered anyway. Immediately reaching for your phone, you called for a towing service which arrived sooner than you thought.

It was grueling seeing your watch tick almost five times faster than normal, knowing you had called for a compulsory 9:30 am meeting with the entire production team of Champion Trainee. What felt like three minutes was actually already thirty as the time yielded 9:15 am. Your car was already queued to be fixed, but you still had to wait.

9:15 turned to 9:30, then 10:27, 11:49 then 01:51.

Soojin had called several times for an update, apologizing and explaining to the crew and staff on your behalf regarding the four and a half hour wait. Luckily it was a Saturday, most of the people had no other schedules planned and continued to wait.

Yoongi’s POV

Secretary Soojin with the help of Daehan, one of the producers came in to the meeting room from time to time, apologizing and explaining the situation to everyone regarding the delay. Y/N had something important to attend to, as they were saying. Most people didn’t mind, but I did. I had another schedule at 2:30 for a commercial shoot with the rest of my members in one of the studios upstairs. Manager Hobeom had already called multiple times, asking for updates, wanting to know if I will be able to make it on time which I already knew I wasn’t.

“Mianhae, hyung. We’re still waiting. I don’t think I’ll be done on time.” I took a deep breath, eyeing my watch.

“Kwenchana, we already talked to the director. You need to attend to that meeting. We’ll take care of the situation here. You might have to stay a little bit later though, for the shoot I mean.”

“Kwenchana. Are the members okay? I can probably leave for awhile and come back down here later so we can do the group shoots, in that way they don’t have to stay late with me.”

“We thought about that earlier, but then again it’s too time constricting and a hassle. The whole production crew and your members already said they would wait. Just finish your meeting.”

“Oh. Arasseo” again, I sighed, starting to recognize the displeasure I was beginning to feel regarding all this.

If she had something else she needed to do prior, why schedule the meeting at that time only to delay it for four hours?

Finally she had arrived, again, apologizing for the (unreasonable) delay and started her part of the meeting right away, stealing another two hours of my time. When it had ended, goodbyes and thank yous were said. I saw her call the boy she had tormented last week into a room for a reason I did not have time to waste on.

I hurried upstairs to the commercial shoot, apologizing to the staff, crew and my members for the two hour delay which they shrugged off easy. The shoot began right away, along with my throbbing headache.

Y/N’s POV

At the end of the meeting, I decided to make the first approach in correcting the grave mistakes I have made last week. The boy whom I shamed in front of everyone came to me shaking next to Soojin.

“I’m sorry for how I acted last week. I have no excuse to validate my unprofessional and not to mention unreasonable actions. Joesonghabnida, I hope it’s not too late for your forgiveness.” I bowed, disregarding pride and prejudice as I delivered my apology gently and not passively.

I could sense the look of surprise on the poor boy’s face, unable to compose a reaction right away. But eventually he smiled kindly, relieving the heaviness in my heart.

“Kwenchana, gwangjangnim. Thank you for considering me worthy of your apology. I admire your humility. Thank you”

I am astounded with the weight that encounter took off of me seeing how that young boy walked out of the office in a much more dignified manner. A consoling smile crept across my semi-weary face. 

“Geureom, shall we call it a day?” I turned to Soojin whose eyes blinked in heavy confusion.

“Ne?” 

Clearing my throat, I gave her an amused smile as I repeated myself.

“I said, let’s go home. It’s the weekend after all. You should be spending time with your husband.”

“A-ah....dae!” 

I studied her figure as she bowed to me politely, gently grabbing her hands and held it with mine, rubbing her knuckles with my thumb.

“Jal ji naesseo?” Her eyes softened, disregarding the formality between the both of us.

“Jinjja...Eonnie, I should be the one asking you that. Aigoo” 

“Mianhae, Soojinah. Eonnie hasn’t checked on you for awhile”

“Eonnie, I’m doing well. Actually... I think I might even be pregnant” my eyes widened as I pulled back, just enough to see her entirely, biting her lip in excitement

“J-jinjja?!? Omo!!! Ottoke” I panicked, covering my mouth, not wanting to be loud.

“Ya, you need to go home! Get some rest and eat more, aigoo, your shirt is too loose--ottoke--I should buy you vitamins--have you gone to your doctor--is Youngjae taking care of you???”

It was never ending; the storm of emotions, pleasant ones at least, were hard to conceal.

“Dae, dae. Everything is in order and yes, Youngjae has been pampering me more than ever since I told him.”

“Geureom, now it’s time for you to go home. I’ll have the company driver drop you off, no ifs, no buts!”

“Ahhh jamkkanman! Let me just take this upstairs to Director Kang, he needs this by today.”

“What is it?” Reaching out my hand towards her, I asked for the folder she almost didn’t want to give. 

“It’s the script you approved for the Innis Free commercial they’re shooting on Monday with Song Hye Kyo.” She continued, allowing me to check the contents of the envelope.

“Arasseo, I’ll take care of it”

“Ani, it’s okay. It’ll only take ten minutes to drop it off.”

“Ani, kwenchana, I haven’t seen Director Kang in awhile. I’d like to say hi, we are good friends after all”

Finally, she gave in, letting go of the duty, permitting me to deliver it to Director Kang personally. 

--

Your two-floor walk wasn’t too bad considering you took the stairs, adding an extra cardio exercise to your day. Plus, your phone ringing three times before you stepped inside the studio room where Director Kang was working. The last phone call ended just in time for you to spot him standing on one corner, his back faced against you. The excitement you felt was indescribable, waiting to see a good friend of yours after almost a year. You could hear his soothing, yet very manly voice as you drew closer. Apparently, he was having a casual conversation with several bodies who were seated in front of him, covered by the equipment.

“Ehem. Annyeonghaseyo, PDnim”

You sounded, folding your lips, waiting for Director Kang to turn. 

However, the knot of excitement brewing in your stomach wasn’t meant for him—his body shift revealed the perfect view of three handsome faces, ones which were covered by the speakers and cameras earlier. Their eyes, same as yours, were startled, poignant and unsure. 

“Ya!!! Jeongmal, wah. Is this really you, Y/N?”

“A-ah d-dae” you giggled nervously, ungluing your eyes from the sight that had greeted you with memories of the past. 

“Wah, jinjja, how long has it been? You’re one of the big fishes now. It’s almost impossible to meet you personally in and outside work”

“You’re overly exaggerating, I came to see you didn’t I? I even brought your script for you” you responded casually, handing him the folder which he took a peek at.

“Did it pass your standards, gwanjangnim?” Director Kang asked teasingly.

“Geureomyo~ you’re a hard one to say no to” you said friskily.

“Ah, before you leave, let me introduce you to a few people. I’m sure you’ll bump heads in this industry soon.”

Again, the attention that was spared for earlier had been redirected, although this time, the air had gotten more natural than dense. 

“Yeoreobun, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine, we interned together back in the days, this is Y/N. 

—Y/N, I’m almost sure you know who they are but I’d personally like to introduce them to you. 방탄소년단 members, Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin and Jung Hoseok”

Namjoon’s POV

We sat quietly, listening to the exchange of words between Director Kang and Y/N. The Y/N who we haven’t heard from or seen in a long time. Hoseok and Jin-hyung kept still, though I could sense the tinge of awkwardness from them. Who is there to blame? This was too much of an unexpected encounter, none of us saw it coming. Minutes later the stilted aura began to subside, right before Director Kang introduced us to each other. The three of us looked at her warmly, like a silent “have you been well” from our end, she did the same. Before we even had the chance to exchange greetings, Director Kang excused himself, attending to one of the staff who needed clarification at the other end of the room.

“Have you been well?” She asked.

“Oh” Hoseok answered, nodding his head as he smiled subtly.

“How long has it been? Three? Four?” Jin-hyung, now making an effort to keep the conversation going approached rather gently, unlike his usual loud greeting. It was a happy one though.

“Five, actually” a weak but tender smile slipped from her lips.

I kept a steady eye on her, her tiny face and flowy dress, the firmness in her tone when she spoke, the way she carried herself. She looked different, but she felt the same. The same Y/N we loved and cared for in the past.

“It’s nice seeing you, Namjoonssi” startled, I shook my head, eyes blinking nervously which I managed to control right away.

“Likewise, Y/N” I muttered back, bowing my head slightly for formality, though unecessary.

“Where have you been all these years?” Hobi asked.

“Just here really. I went back to school since the um— since the incident”

“Ah. I see, I see” Hobi, again, replied while Jin-hyung and myself continued to nod our heads.

Jin-hyung attempted to ask another question which was interrupted out of the blue by a groaning, irritated voice.

“Jin-hyung, did you bring your headache pill?” A moaning Yoongi entered from the corner, rubbing his forehead roughly with his right hand. He didn’t notice Y/N’s presence until he turned his back on us, facing towards her. His face sourer at the sight. No greetings were heard from the both of them. Y/N stood awkwardly, almost looking like she wanted to initiate a wholesome conversation, however Yoongi was the complete opposite—purposely refusing to spare her a glance, looking in all other directions but hers. We waited gruesomely for Jin-hyung to come back with the pill.

“Yeogi” Jin-hyung handed him two pills, passing him a bottle of water with it.

“Kwenchana? How many more do you have to do?” Asked Jin-hyung.

“Seven more.” Yoongi answered dully.

“Seven?! Ya, you don’t look so good. Sit down for awhile”

They were referring to the number of scenes Yoongi still had to finish. A moment of silence occurred as we watched him gulp half a bottle of water, wiping the remnants off his lips.

“If I had started on time, I wouldn’t have to deal with all this.” He spat using his words, putting no effort in hiding his vexation.

“Ya, ya. Hajima, it’ll only worsen your headache.” Jin-hyung tried to ease him, before the situation escalated, attempting to massage Yoongi’s tensed shoulders. However, it didn’t stop him. Of course...when did anything ever when he was mad? A sardonic grunt he let out.

“Ani. I’m not going to have all these people wait for my personal reasons. Isn’t it a mockery for professionals to cause delays so they can attend to other affairs?” 

I noticed Y/N’s eyes drooping. It was obviously directed towards her, Yoongi made sure she knew that.

“I—” again, with a disgusting tone, indirectly addressing what he had to say

“—personally can’t stand people who waste my time. Especially when they didn’t deserve it in the first place.” With that said, he left.

It was hard not to catch the frustration drawn across Jin-hyung’s handsome face. Hoseok sighed, head turning left and right.

“Mian, Y/N. He hasn’t been sleeping well these past days” said Jin-hyung, shifting his attention to Y/N who was forcing a smile despite the awkwardness. She waited for Director Kang to return then left. 

Sometime after her departure, a well-built man in a black suit hurriedly ran towards where we were, hunched back as he struggled to catch his breath. Upon regaining composure, he introduced himself as Mr. Park Il Sung, head of the security department and right away explained the sudden situation.

“Joesonghabnida, I didn’t mean to startle you. We were told that gwangjangnim was last seen in this studio. Do you, by chance, know where she had gone?”

Director Kang looked at him with dewy-eyes before responding.

“Ah, Y/N? D-dae, she just left a little while ago” 

“What’s going on?” before the conversation resumed, Yoongi happened to arrive, perhaps to grab a bottle of water from the food station nearby. 

“Gabjagi...wae?” Inquired director Kang towards the security personnel.

“Her vehicle has been hit and run in the parking lot. We wanted to let her know ahead of time.”

Y/N’s POV

“Ani, kwenchana. I sent the company driver elsewhere. Please don’t worry about the matter. I’ll manage to get home safely. Kamsahambnida, Mr. Park” I sighed, trying to relax myself as I ended the three minute call. 

I had just been told that my vehicle, which was just returned from the shop after my morning incident, was hit and run at the parking lot. The security personnel had already arranged for it to be investigated and repaired, although they insisted I was brought home by the company driver who I sent to bring Soojin home. 

“Grae, this maybe an opportunity for me to experience an old life of mine” I whispered to myself, walking towards the bus stop which I had not been to in years. 

--

The dinner table was unusually quiet tonight with merely the sound of slurped soup and chopstick clanking heard instead of voices. Everyone was just...hungry after a restless day. They were all quick to tidy up. Maknaes were first to leave the kitchen of course, Jungkook and Taehyung going back to their game dens, Jimin watching a movie by the living room. Namjoon had not left the dinning room table, fiddling with his phone with a cup of hot tea sitting in front of him. Hoseok took a seat across him, easing his body from doing the dishes. And of course, Jin taking out an entire case of beer from the fridge. Hence, the drinking began.

“How’s your headache?” Asked Seokjin with a sour face, slumping his third can onto the marble. 

“Better that it was” responded Yoongi almost emotionless.

“Geundae..earlier” Hoseok, with his head tilted sideways, apparently had something he wanted to discuss but could not deliver through. But the silence eventually unfolded the topic. They all knew what he was pertaining to. 

Yoongi cleared his throat, drawing all eyes on him.

“What?” As always, dodging the subject with his indifference. 

“Ya! Hajima. Do you really think we’re that naive? Stop acting like you don’t know, we’ve lived together for years. We know just about every layer of skin you have” snarled the eldest, annoyed at the dumb-play of his dongsaeng. 

“Geurotchi! Aigo! How could you be so harsh to her?” Hoseok’s face drew all sorts of expressions all over it as he protested. Namjoon only watched.

Yoongi could neither disagree or agree to how they had reacted, remembering the inhumane things he had said to you earlier. Had he known that a flat tire was the cause of your delay, he would not have said the things he did. Also, overhearing Mr. Park’s conversation with you over the phone regarding your hit-and-ran vehicle did not aid his guilt. 

“I believe she deserves an apology, hyung” spoke Namjoon neutrally, remaining considerate to both parties.

At this point, they had already ganged up on him, rubbing his fault directly on his face. Barely giving him a chance to speak.

“Ara, ara—“ responded Min Yoongi in defeat. Clearing his throat, avoiding any eye contact.

“—I’ll apologize when I see her tomorrow” he said quietly.

All of a sudden, he felt three wide-eyed glares cornering him. This was just frustrating. 

“You do know you won’t be on the show for a week, right?” 

Yoongi eyed Namjoon dumbfounded. No response, whatsoever.

This gave him away. He forgot. 

“Tsk, jinjja—” huffed Jin sarcastically, not sure how to react to his oblivion. 

“—Ya, Min Yoongi....we’re scheduled for Japan next week”

[loiterer87]

So, the other year I got challenged to do some creative writing/flash-ficcy thing by  a mate. I sent it to her and another mate who does writing sometimes for their opinions and they seemed to like it. Then I sat on it for ages because I do that sort of thing a lot...

Anyway, I decided sod it, let’s stick it up here and see what happens. Here’s a short, Urban Fantasy thing I wrote up t’other year featuring my character Dave from the Loiterers comic doing something his mates don’t know about...

                                        A DECK OF MANY THINGS

Heidi texted me.

'Dave, you in town?”

It was winter and I was out with my studio mates, all of us had a different reason to celebrate. Mostly it was Christmas revelry, but each of us had our own reasons to be cheerful. I had just posted out the last three commissions of the year and was happy whiling away the rest of the day drinking. After replying, she sent me back another almost instantly.

“Ring me.”

I sighed, excused myself and slipped outside the pub.

“What?” I said. It wasn't exactly a winter wonderland outside, but it was cold enough. I wanted to get through this quickly and go back to my pint.

“Someone's got a Deck of Many Things.”

It's basically a pack of magic cards. Doesn't matter if it's your standard lucky pack of Fifty Two, a cursed Tarot set or someone just faffing about with an enchanted deck of Magic the Gathering, some of us of a certain generation of magic-users started calling them a Deck of Many Things. Yes, Gary Gygax has a lot to probably answer for.

“And this is important... how?”

“This someone's not supposed to have it.”

“Isn't stuff like that your job?”

Heidi is part of what can be described as a cross between a Neighbourhood Watch Association and a mystical security force. She'd say 'she walks the city, night and day, protecting us from threats, unseen and unheard... blah blah blah, prose of the purplest hues, etc.' It boils down to her and her group keeping everyone safe from dickheads with magic. Usually armed with a big stick.

“Normally, yes, but not right now.”

I could vaguely hear some singing in the background. It took slightly longer than I care to admit but eventually I realised what she meant. She was celebrating with her family. All of them.

“Oh.”

“Yeah...”

“...I'm at the point of merry right now.” I sighed.

“You're also the only person who's in town who answered.”

“...So, Deck of Many Things then...”

She told me that a seer had phoned her about it and that it was happening live. At the Cuthbert Broderick Wetherspoons.

I swore. Heidi noticed. I was about two minutes walk from there, if that, at another pub down the road.

There's a book, in a library somewhere called 'Like Attracts Like: A Study on Luck, Magic and Probabilty' by a guy called J. Ohljson. It's about how magic-users and magically-inclined folks essentially find themselves becoming weirdness magnets. I hate it. I was thinking about it and how much I hate it as I made my way across Millennium Square and up the stairs into 'Spoons.

It was busy. I couldn't immediately tell who the pillock with the Deck was so I headed up to the bar and ordered a drink.

“Don't tell me Heidi sent you!”

I looked up at the bartender. It was Lee. Lee doesn't like me.

“Evenin', Lee...”

“Of all the people she could've asked...”

“I was the only one who answered. We both have to deal with it. Now, what's going on?”

He looked at me distastefully. Probably trying to work out whether or not it was worth me helping the Watch.

“Look, while you're mentally wording your letter of complaint to Heidi and her lot, can you get us a pint please? I'm supposed to be celebrating tonight.”

His grimace increased, my smile became shit-eating. He responded by putting a pint glass full of water in front of me.

“My right, far end of the bar. Five of them.”

I downed my glass while stealing a glance in the direction Lee mentioned. I could see a small trio at the far end but...

“Three lads, two girls. One lad's nipped out for a smoke, not sure where the girl went.”

“You're definitely sure it's them?”

“Guy who got the first round went for all the really expensive shit. Paid contactless with a Queen of Diamonds under his actual card. Our till had a brief glitchy flicker and miraculously his bill was paid.”

“Is that it?!”

“Also, the guy outside is busy performing fire-breathing tricks right now.”

He nodded behind me. Looking round, he was correct. There was a drunken, braying idiot belching a jet of fire that'd impress a dragon. You know, if it had really low expectations. The crowd were amazed though. Very drunk, thankfully, but impressed.

The guy was clearly a student. Another glance at his friends inside confirmed it, all modern clobber and all pissed. It was coming up to Christmas after all. They were also watching their mate outside and one of them, the money man Lee mentioned, was idly thumbing through a half opened pack of playing cards.

“Definitely a Queen of Diamonds?”

Lee nodded, “Please don't wreck the place.”

I tried thinking of something clever to say but he had a point. Try as I might, and honestly, while my magic's not really that strong or destructive, sometimes things break. And the Cuthbert Broderick's facade is mostly glass.

Getting up, I left my bag on the seat and asked Lee to keep an eye on it.

“What you doing?”

“Piss. I need to think. Get us a proper pint while I'm gone.”

I left him before he could answer back and headed downstairs.

The toilets were probably the old cellar of the place. As you go further down, the nice smooth walls suddenly become old red brick. And the ceiling is really low. In the past I've bashed my head on it even with my head bent. I passed the communal sink area and into the gents.

As I went about my business, something was bothering me. I couldn't put my finger on it, but I felt as if there was a camera or something on me. Most unusual for the gents, normally everyone keeps to themselves. Snatching a quick glance around there was me and another guy. He had his eyes down. That wasn't it.

Then I heard a giggle. Not loud, like a little snicker that slips out. Again, there was no one else in the room. I carried on. Again, the giggle. Another look around and I thought I saw something  for a second on my left. I pretended not to notice and sniffed. And there it was, a sickly sweet perfume in the air. It was almost as if it was peering over my shoulder. The smell was godawful and got up my nose in the worst way. I sneezed.

As I jerked my head left, force from the reaction driving it forward, it connected with solid air. I also distinctly heard a girl go “Ow, shit!”. I finished up, headed out and back upstairs.

“Yeah, they're proper magic cards.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a young blonde walking past, tissue hiding a bloodied and broken nose, shooting a very dirty look in my direction. She headed straight for her friends with the cards.

Lee's face and shoulders dropped and he groaned. “We need to clear out the place, don't we?”

“Now now, not necessarily...”

“How's your thieving skills?”

I said nothing, then, “Let's not pull the fire alarm just yet! That's all I'm saying.”

I looked through my bag. There was very little actually useful in there. I grabbed my A6 sketch book and shoved it in my jacket pocket. Rifling through the pencil case I carry led me to grabbing a pencil, old wood and blunt lead job (probably HB), and the Magnum. A permanent marker so chunky, it has little practical purpose in my day job. This stuff however? Conjuring magic symbols and creating works which alter a tiny bit of reality is so much easier with a bit of kit which actually leaves a decent-sized indelible mark.

I chucked the rest at Lee, “Keep an eye on that, will you? Maybe also hang around the fire alarm.”

“...You're not going to make me regret calling this in, are you?”

I shrugged. Downed the beer I'd ordered for liquid courage and decided to do something stupid.

On the way outside I grabbed a glass of something clear off an empty table. In hindsight, I should probably have sniffed it before taking it but I was kind of drunk. It might've avoided how bad things got.

The fire-breather was still showing off when I got out the door. I shouted to the prick just as he was about to give it another round. He turned, flames flicking the corners of his mouth.

“Does that leave you with bad breath or does it just make everything taste like burnt toast?” I asked to him and the incredulous audience. He snorted derisively.

“No really,” I continued, “I would also resort to circus skills if I was that desperate for a shag at a fucking 'Spoons!”

That got his attention. He sneered, took a deep breath and as soon as I saw a flash of orange I threw the drink in my hand.

Turns out it was vodka.

There was a short flash in the guy's face as the vodka met the flame and then a lot of screaming. The crowd panicked and scattered while the fire-breather was on the floor frantically trying to put his face out.

As he slapped at his face and shirt, I sauntered over and picked up the card off the floor. The three of hearts. Turning back and there was a little commotion inside, no doubt my antics had got their attention in there too.

Amongst the people who'd just seen the fireworks were his friends. I tapped the window to properly get their attention. They looked, I showed them the card. Then tore it in half. I took a step back, tilted my chin up and thumped my chest in that unspoken way which translates to “Come on then.” I also saw Lee staring agog at that display of completely immature bravado. At him, I just shrugged. Then he went and pulled the fire alarm.

All the doors suddenly burst open, patrons and staff trying to get out of the building, I waited for the initial rush to subside before slipping in and heading up a nearby staircase to the mezzanine. Soon as I made it to the centre I got on my knees and pulled out the Magnum. The strong smell of the ink did not help with my beer-addled state and made it harder to concentrate of the magic as I drew.

I could hear angry voices below me as I neared completion. Peering down through the glass bannister, I could see the remaining card-wielders arguing. A second later, one spotted me. Shit. I took the marker to the glass and drew a seven pointed asterisk which looked like a shatter pattern. I capped the Magnum and held my drawing hand over it for about three seconds before smacking it as hard as I could.

Upon impact, the glass blew outwards like a bullet had gone through it. The fragments spiralled and contorted in the air like a flock of razor-sharp birds in flight before piling down at the four. The girl with the bloody nose screamed as the shards rained down. After they'd finished I saw her heading towards the exit screaming “That is it I am so done with this magic shit!” The ring leader tried to calm her down but she was having none of it.

“I don't care! It was funny when you nicked 'em but now I've got guys throwing glass at us! I'm going home!”

And that was the last I saw of her that night. Unfortunately, me listening in had also alerted them to my presence and one of the remaining two guys was beginning to head upstairs with a handful of cards.  I turned to face him, only to hear the sound of a card deck being flipped through. He was gone.

Then he was behind me and all over my back. Fucking. Teleportation. I fell to the floor as he shouted something tough at me, I wasn't listening. All I was concentrating on was working the pencil out of my pocket. It was a lot harder than expected, what with his weight pressing down on top of me and what I was sure was another pair of arms trying to keep me pinned.

After retrieving it, I drove it point down, straight into the first hand I saw which wasn't mine. He screamed, the hand vanished back into nothingness and I managed to roll the guy off while he was dealing with the temporary phantom pain. I snatched the pencil up off the floor and headed behind one of the pub's decorative bookcases. The pencil's end was covered in blood. That was good, I whipped out the sketchbook and started some rudimentary Voo-doodling.

I stole a quick look at the guy; daft blond cow-lick, neck tattoo, white rugby shirt, before putting pencil to paper and sketching a quick headshot in blood and lead. He might have seen me, because just as I finished the last lines a bolt of lighting struck the case I was hiding behind and caught fire. I wiped the pencil on my jeans and ducked behind a table as another bolt arced overhead. And another striking the table leg. Clearly, his aim was off.

“God, this one's shit...” He said, throwing the card aside. I took the moment to finish off the ritual. I stood up, held the sketchbook image out and declared: “By book, blood and lead, I bind you!” He hurled a pint glass at me in response.

I was back behind the table when I remembered there was more to say. I held the book up again, “And in binding, your will is mine!” Bloody beer brain! Knowing my luck, it probably messed the spell's effects about.

He threw another. Yep, definitely not working properly, I thought. The teleport card made its presence again, this time startling me by having the guy appear in front of me. I swung both arms in  panic as I saw him materialise in front of me. The spell did work though. Sort of. I saw him appear, then suddenly jump to the right, colliding hard with the railing. Okay. So, I couldn't control his complete will, just his direction.

I tested this by pulling the book back left, leading my new puppet back the other way into another bookcase. He charged at me, every direction the book pulled him merely annoying him. We ended up doing some strange violent dance, him throwing punches at me, me leading by book and dodging the odd fist. A jab came towards my kidney which was flung back towards a chair. Which smashed. This continued for a while, punches, dodges, the odd furniture being struck. Which I noted didn't always end in destruction. At some point, I also noticed that he had two cards left in his back pocket.

I snatched the pair when his back was turned and when he turned back, pulled the book straight up, this time the effect was different. Blondie staggered back like he'd been chinned with an uppercut. Even better, he staggered back and stood right over the thing I'd drawn earlier. A trapdoor.  The floor beneath his right foot suddenly gave way and he fell through, only getting stuck fast as his crotch slammed into it, leaving him and his one free leg jutting awkwardly out of the hole.

At this point I should probably mention I have a habit of drawing undersized trapdoors. Don't know why, I just do. Maybe it's a time thing. Either way, what with the combination of dizziness and understandable pain on his face, I think he was done for this round.  

Then everything around me was filled with broken glass. A lot of broken glass. Most of it smelling like some booze or another. After several cuts to my face and yet more holes in my jacket, I'd had enough. I was the floor when I started shouting, it was full on childish tantrum shouting, I'll admit it. I don't remember exactly what it was other than something along the lines of “Oh, will you just fuck off?” All of a sudden, the glass stopped. It fell to the floor like whatever had been holding it up had just dropped everything and left. Peering over the edge to the ground floor confirmed it.

Leading pillock was shouting at the only other remaining member of his little crew. She had another card in her hand and was heading for the door.

“What the fuck, Nat!?”

“I don't know, Bobby! He just shouted at me and I just want to go!”

“What!?”

“Don't you start! You got us into this shit! You-- Forget it, I'm off home!

And with that, she threw the card on the floor and stormed out. I laughed.

And then Bobby saw me. “Don't move!” I shouted. He didn't. I looked over at my hand. Still had Blondie's two remaining cards gripped tightly in it. I figured one must've been some sort of compelling voice thing. Looking back down, Bobby was still stood frozen. After some standing and stretching, I made my way back down to the ground floor.

“Alright then, tell us, “ I said, still holding the pair I had, “where'd you get these?”

“...”

I sighed, he still couldn't move. Whoever enchanted these things clearly didn't do a decent enough job, the do-what-I-say card took my words too literally.

“Uuugggh, alright! You can move, but tell me who you got the cards from!”

“I took them from this weirdo who lives in the same cluster as me at Beckett. He's into all that weird shit. Told me he made them himself. I thought it'd be a bit of a laugh to take 'em out.”

“Was he one of the lads here tonight?”

“Fuck off! He was on acid or something, I took 'em from his shelf and he didn't notice a thing. I even tripped on his coat on the way out and he didn't even flinch!”

I was about to ask him to hand over the rest of the deck, but I'd forgotten that 'You can move' has multiple meanings. By the time I'd started my next sentence, I had to quickly swap the back end of it for simply the word:

“MISS!”

And that was just seconds before I dodged out of the way of a chuffing great black battle axe burying itself into the staircase behind me. Thankfully, it was embedded deep enough into the wood that Bobby had to really work to unstick it. This gave me enough time to put some distance between us. I couldn't get another command out before he came swinging at me again! This time smashing a table. Then another. And one of the windows.

The wind blew a sharp cold draft through both of us and sadly, one of the two cards I had left in my hand. Bobby noticed this, grinned and raised the axe. I saw the card flit in the breeze before I saw the axe coming up and thought quickly.

I ducked, cringed and either shouted another command or screamed as the axe came down. It was not the most dignified way to die in this game, but really, I've yet to hear of one that is.

Then I noticed I wasn't dead. Bobby noticed too. He pulled the axe back and tried again. Swinging for my midsection. Again, nothing. Around this time, I'd stood up and flinched when he tried yet again to no avail. We both stared at each other confused. I felt myself confirming, yes I was still whole and intact while Bobby tested the axe on another table. Which smashed. I still had one card left and checked to see which it was. Then I grinned as I worked out what was going on.

It was the Joker. I turned it face down and quietly picked a piece of broken table leg off the floor and a half spilled glass of something. Bobby was trying to dislodge the axe from the floor. As I crept up, he must've realised something about the magic and dropped the card he was holding. The axe vanished, he picked it up again and the axe appeared in his other hand. He turned and thrust the blade towards my neck! Nothing. He still hadn't figured it out.

Not missing the moment I threw the mixture of broken glass and alcohol in his face! When he dropped the card again while shrieking was when I broke his nose with the table leg. As he laid writhing in a pool of many varying fluids, including some bodily ones, I stepped over him and retrieved the rest of the deck. Out of the fifty-four in the pack there was still about thirty plus. I flipped through them before pocketing them and digging out my phone.

There were three missed calls from Heidi and maybe three times as many texts.

“What the hell did you do!?!” Her voice was harsh and shrill with a mixture of concern and outrage. “Lee called and said you'd gotten into a full on war with the gang who had the deck!?”

“They were a bunch of drunk students...”

“Why didn't you just steal it!?”

“How?...”

She was silent for a good thirty seconds before asking, “Is it over, at least?” I looked around, even if I couldn't see the fire on the mezzanine, I could smell it. “I got the deck, yeah.” I stepped behind the bar and pulled my bag up onto it. Still talking to Heidi.

“Heidi, it's mostly cosmetic is the damage. Also, I had no idea what I was walking into and some of these cards have destructive properties!”

More silence. I dug out a compact mirror marked with stray correction fluid and a small pot of black corpse paint I borrowed from a band I'd done some work for in the past.  Eventually she said, “When you say 'cosmetic'...”

“One of the guys tried electrocuting me and another had a big fuck-off axe! What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“...Alright, go home, Dave. At least the building's still standing. Can we talk later?”

I was applying the black paint around my eyes in the style of an old-school bank robber, “That'll be fine. Got to go now, need to paint my fingers.” I hung up and put my phone away before smearing the remainder of the paint on my fingertips.

The emergency services showed up just as I'd grabbed all my belongings from all the floors and walked out one of the broken ground floor windows. No one stopped me or even noticed. I've used the Burglar Mask trick so often I don't even try to sneak away from people anymore. With the mask over my eyes and fingers. No one can see me, not unless they try very hard. I surveyed the damage, several of the ground floor windows were broken as was one of the glass doors. There was the small glow of fire coming from the mezzanine and the whole ground floor was a mess of glass, liquid and splinters. I could even see Lee talking with one of the police on site all the while looking around for me.

I took a deep breath and decided to head home to sleep off the inevitable hangover.

It was about a week later when the whole thing about the Deck came up again. Heidi had rang to tell me that it had been destroyed. She was just calling to let me know and if any of the missing cards had been destroyed. Outside of the fire-breathing one and one or two others I'd ripped up I'd assumed the rest were taken by the fire. This seemed to satisfy her. After she hung up I went back to clearing out my messenger bag, there'd been a bit of debris inside since and it was starting to muck up some of the pages in one of my sketchbooks. Digging around led to me discovering what turned out to be the Queen of Diamonds.

It took another minute or two to remember, this was the magic money card. I put it to one side and grabbed the jeans I was wearing that night from the laundry bin. In the back pocket, beside a used tissue and forty three pence was another one. I must have put it in there and forgotten about it after the blonde guy smashed his balls on the floor. I considered ripping them up there and then, but...

I remembered I'm also a starving artist and a mage. Neither career was especially rewarding. So I decided to keep hold of the Queen for a rainy day. The other card was the Nine of Spades and I never did see what that one did. I still don't, come to think of it, but it may come in useful somewhere along the line.

[olpirtmoved]

1-65 fucker

MOTHERFUCKER Original post here: http://fueledbyjyler.tumblr.com/post/78153547750/65-questions-you-arent-used-to 1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?Sometimes, but not often. 2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?Most of the time it's about a 1 or 2, but sometimes it turns into 4. Not even because of anything sometimes I just get freaked out for no reason. 3. The person you would never want to meet? I don't really have anybody in mind ?? 4. What is your favorite word? Don't have one. 5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?A willow tree - for obvious reasons. 6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?Better than yesterday, I guess. 7. What shirt are you wearing?A pink t-shirt with a koala on it that says "I'M GIVING OUT SLAPS AND CUPCAKES & I'M ALL OUT OF CUPCAKES". 8. What do you label yourself as? An asshole. 9. Bright room or dark room?If you're talking about my own bedroom, it's usually bright, actually, since it has gold curtains and tends to light up really nicely. If you're talking about general preference then it really depends on the room and which aesthetic would suit it better. 10. What were you doing at midnight last night?I think I was sleeping. 11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?Fourteen. 12. Who told you they loved you last?My best friiiiend. 13. Your worst enemy?Responsibility. 14. What is your current desktop picture?It's a spacey desktop. Nice purples and blues mmmmm. 15. Do you like someone?Ya. 16. The last song you listened to?Forget by Pogo. 17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?Pence. 18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?Idk ?????? 19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?Eli, and I would have them love and appreciate themself / themselves (???). 20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)I like my eyes, but that's pretty much it. 21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?I THINK ABOUT THIS A LOT AND I AM NOOOT ANSWERING THIS QUESTION. 22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it? I don't - I brag about all of my talents none of them are secret. 23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of? I don't think there's actually anything unique I'm afraid of. I'm scared of some pretty standard shit. 24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal. A REALLY FAT SANDWICH. That's it, just a basic sandwich that's reeeeeeeeeeeeeeally fat. It isn't a good sandwich unless you have trouble eating it. 25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it? NEW DRESSES. 26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?To see my wonderful friend, Eli the magnificent, Eli the brilliant, Eli the fANTASTIC - 27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? UMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM. I'm not gonna be brand specific but some kind of vodka I guess ?? I'm not a fan of alcohol in general but I like vodka so - 28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? SHIT MAN I DONT KNOW I WASNT BUILT TO RULE. 29. What is your favorite expletive?FUUUUUUUUUUCK. 30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno? My phone probably, but since that's always on me anyway and would've been safe already, my laptop. 31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?My grandmother. Just - her in general. 32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?34. What was your last dream about?I can't remember most of my dreams, and this is no exception. 35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?Person. No. 36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?Yeah, when I was a baby my grandmother fed me spoonfuls of nutella. That's how everyone found out I was allergic to nuts. 37. Have you ever built a snowman?Yeah, but not in a few years. 38. What is the color of your socks?Not wearing socks. My feet are very cold. 39. What type of music do you like?All kinds, but I like industrial & classic. 40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?Sunsets. 41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?Vanilla. I'm basic. 42. What football team do you support? (I will answer in terms of American football as well as soccer)I don't like sports ummmmmm.43. Do you have any scars?Countless, but not from serious stuff. They're all really stupid, and usually start as something minor before I pick at them so much that they just sort of become permanent. 44. What do you want to be when you graduate?I graduated high school this year (2017), and haven't started college yet. 45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?I would give myself more motivation. 46. Are you reliable?Depends on who's asking. Generally no, though. 47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be?Why aren't you dead yet. 48. Do you hold grudges?Yes. 49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?Bitch I'm not breeding anything let the animals do what they do. 50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had? I once had an in depth conversation with my friends about whether or not it would be considered incest if you were to fuck a clone of yourself. If I'm being honest I've probably had weirder but that's the one I can remember best. 51. Are you a good liar?Yes. 52. How long could you go without talking?A looooooong time. 53. What has been you worst haircut/style? When I was in elementary school and had long hair. It wasn't necessarily a bad STYLE, but I neglected it so much that it would regularly tangle and form dreadlocks that my parents would have to force out each morning before school. I cried a lot. 54. Have you ever baked your own cake?Nope. 55. Can you do any accents other than your own?Yeah, but not many and not very well. 56. What do you like on your toast?Just butter, but a good amount of it. 57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?I can't remember, I don't draw often. 58. What would be you dream car?I've never really thought about it. 59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.I sing in the shower sometimes, but not as often these days. 60. Do you believe in aliens?Yes.61. Do you often read your horoscope?Noooope. 62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?Why the fuck would I have a favorite letter of the alphabet. 63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?Dragons 100%. 64. What do you think about babies?Eew. 65. Freebie! Ask anything interesting you can think of.YOU DIDN'T ASK A QUESTION HERE HA I'M FREE.

[chal-converts-archive]

You know, in thinking through my “ehh – close enough to tznius”/personal modesty dress code, I realized that I have some other rules I typically follow.

[This is long and borders on TMI, so that’s why it’s under a cut.]

I definitely choose my undergarments with this stuff in mind. For up top, I pretty much always wear well-padded bras, but even with my softer ones, the point is that they do their job well enough that things won’t get awkward if I get a little chilly. Obviously a major bra-related rule is that none of it can show – not the color, not the straps, not the shape. Lace is beautiful but the shape of it can press through if you’re not careful.

I do occasionally do a half-bind with a sports bra (since I’m flat-chested enough to get away with this), but then I will only wear shirts that are thick and loose enough for this to not cause issues. On the rare occasions that I’m binding, it’s almost always a formal enough occasion that I will be wearing a suit, or at least a waistcoat over a button-up shirt.

On bottom, I pick things that aren’t going to show lines. (Yes, this can still be a problem even if you wear looser clothes and/or thicker fabrics. If you wear a jersey-knit dress, even if the skirt is somewhat loose and the fabric isn’t too sheer, if it’s soft enough it will show lines!) I love love love that “boyshorts” cut, whether it’s designed for women or men, because it tends to not show lines at all. And, even if it does, it tends to only look like you’re wearing shorts under whatever else you’re wearing. In all cases, the color of it can’t show through either.

I won’t wear tights, nylons, or stockings of that ilk under any circumstances, but I can and do treat leggings as an important additional quasi-undergarment. Not only does it hide underwear lines, but it also means that even if someone is enough of a creep to flip your skirt or there’s a sudden stiff wind, you’re still covered.

As a side note to the wind thing – another reason I won’t entirely give up pants is because in many situations I feel like they are more modest than skirts. So, for example, on really windy days, I tend to avoid wearing skirts or dresses because even if it’s ankle length, it’s still going to cling to my body in a pretty un-tznius way. While it’s true I could break out my stiffer skirts for those occasions, the reality is that the only skirts I own that are stiff enough are heavy wool and very formal and that just doesn’t always work. So, pants it is.

[Also, this is an interesting discussion/rant on pants wrt tznius - I don’t agree with everything she says here, but it’s still interesting.]

Additional leggings benefits: While this was many years ago now, thankfully, wearing leggings did prevent someone from touching my skin after reaching up under my skirt. Since then, I’ve felt a whole lot more comfortable standing up on buses or trains and going up flights of stairs while wearing a skirt if I have leggings on underneath.

Despite all this, I don’t consider leggings or yoga pants appropriate to wear by themselves. My main issue with them is that there’s just no way that people don’t see and understand the exact contours of your butt, thighs, and groin region. The fabric that these are made out of is almost always so soft that no matter how well it fits you, it’s going to have an indent between butt cheeks and it’s going to show the exact V of your groin. (Obviously in some really unfortunate situations, it shows even more than that.) I just don’t think it’s appropriate, personally, and would never feel comfortable going out like that at this point in my life.

Skinny jeans and even some jeggings avoid this issue by fitting differently up top and/or by being of heavy enough fabric that all intimate contours are smoothed over. I also like to wear them when I’m wearing a tunic top or dress with a very short skirt, because while neither is particularly modest on its own, at least in combination I feel a lot better about it and kind of just go:

Moving on: I also pay attention with blouses or other button-up shirts to make sure that there isn’t gapping between the buttons or snaps. If there’s any gapping, I won’t wear it without an under shirt.

Another top-related issue is pretty straightforward but worth mentioning. For those of you that, like me, went to junior high or high school when it was popular to wear itty bitty t-shirts that revealed at least an inch of belly every time you moved, I’m pretty sensitive to The Shirt Must be LONG Enough Too! With the recent resurfacing of crop tops, cut-outs (with or without lace), and low backed outfits, suffice to say it’s much more annoying to find women’s tops that cover your entire torso. But, that is definitely a requirement in my book.

Regarding the neckline thing, I typically stick with crew neck or collared shirts if I can. I still have a few tops whose neckline comes up to just under the collarbone, but to be honest I’m a lot more comfortable with them covered. (There’s some weird gender stuff there + comments people have made to me in the past that I won’t get into.) Boatneck tops frustrate me to no end, because most of the time they’re quite elegant and very high-necked . . . except then your bra straps are showing. I tend to avoid them for that reason unless the slit is short enough to cover the straps too.

I know some people restrict based on color (won’t wear bright colors, won’t wear red, etc.) – I can’t do that. I just straight up cannot do that with my mental health issues as they are. I love a lot of more muted colors (I have a ton of grey, brown, black, and beige-toned clothing) but I can’t restrict myself to those because that is an invitation to Depression™. Actually, I made the commitment to myself to wear brightly colored things as part of a larger commitment to live vibrantly. The amount of color I wear is often directly in relationship to my mental health, so I just don’t think that restriction would be a good idea even if I thought it were necessary (which I don’t.) My approach to dressing modestly is joyful, and that often expresses itself through color.

Similarly, I have no problem with wearing shiny things, glittery things, accessorizing, or wearing makeup. My main criteria is that the overall effect is tasteful and dignified, or at a minimum not vampish or raunchy. (I do like to dress silly or playful sometimes, as evidenced by my princess-y selfies that keep occasionally making the rounds.)

Shoes: While I don’t have any super-specific rules about shoes, my general thing is that they must be reasonably comfortable for what they are, and the styling must not be too edgy or raunchy. Ergo, plain knee-high riding boots are in a whole ‘nother category even if they are black and leather, than, say, these boots:

[See also: “covering” =/= modest]

Anyway, another dimension to my wardrobe choices is how practicality fits in. One of the major things that drew me to even consider the concept of tznius in the first place was how practical most of the rules are. Now, I know that a lot of the complaints about modest dressing (especially from certain feminist sectors – and they’re not necessarily completely wrong) is that it isn’t practical. Skirts and dresses are not as useful when you’re trying to do sports or other heavy physical activity, and having to always cover to the wrist means that your sleeves often get in the way of heavier or dirty work. Wearing more and/or heavier clothing in the heat of the summer months, especially if you cover your head, hands, or feet can very easily lead to heat stroke. Etc.

However, there’s a lot of wisdom to much of the tznius rules. Covering to the elbow means that your arms are protected, but that you can roll up your sleeves if you need to get your hands wet or dirty. Skirts that come down to just below the knee and that aren’t too tight are perfect for getting things done. Especially in the summer time, if you’re smart about the weight of fabric you wear and the breathability of it, covering more is actually really helpful in protecting you from the sun. (And, if you have sensory issues like me, protecting you from bugs, humidity, and the salty, gritty feeling that happens when you sweat with bare skin.) While I am clearly not a fan of tights (talk about sensory hell), I can definitely see the appeal they have for others. Sensible shoes are always a huge plus as well.

And for me, there’s a lot more of a relationship between practicality and modesty than most people draw. Put bluntly, if you’re unable to move properly because you might expose some part of your body that you’d rather keep private, then you’re still being restricted by men – just in a different way. If you dress sensibly, you are quite literally physically liberated from a lot of this sexist garbage. I have found that by keeping the standards I’ve set for myself (which are intended to approximate tznius much of the time), I can move freely, work efficiently, and never have to worry about what parts of my body are open to the air and what they look like in motion at any given time. I never have to worry about men staring at me. I never have to worry about serious wardrobe malfunctions. I can just be. And that is so freeing, and so important.

I was going to talk about how hair covering fits in with all of this, but I think there’s enough there to merit its own post. Swimwear is another tricky area, but I think I may make an entirely separate post on that, too.