#but /somebody/ went and stabbed someone she considers family in front of her. so.

[manfred-volkarin]

this banter has become about 10000x funnier in the post veilguard/rachel laidir oc brainrot world

man doesn't know that in ten years time he's gonna have to put up with a human who can't STAND him, because she's his only point of contact with the outside world/only hope of escape from a prison of his own making.

[plus-size-reader]

Why

Cato Hadley x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 2108 words

Warnings: none

Summary:  Reader is a tribute for the Hunger Games, no one thinks she’s going to make it until Cato steps in. The one thing you don’t understand is, Why does he care? 

Updated version of “Why Does He Care” an old fan favorite. 

—————————————————————————————————

They knew you wouldn’t win. 

It hadn’t even registered as a possibility in most of their minds, but that didn’t matter all that much. 

All the game makers cared about was that you made a show of it, and if you could, got stabbed in view of one of the thousands of cameras surrounding the arena.

That was all you had to do. 

You weren’t the strongest, the fastest, or the smartest that your district had to offer and everyone seemed to have already come to terms with the fact that you would be leaving the arena in a body bag.

They just didn’t see how a woman of your status and stature could ever hope to compete with others in the games. Against the Careers, a group of highly trained young people whose lives revolved around being able to win, you would surely meet your end. 

However, you weren’t going to just accept defeat right off the bat. 

Even if you didn’t win, you were going to put up one hell of a fight once that canon went off. You owed that to your family, and your district, and yourself. 

No one in their right mind wanted to participate in the Hunger Games,and you certainly didn’t want to either, but you had been chosen to represent your district and you weren’t going to shy away from the responsibility. 

At the very least, you had to try. 

If nothing else, the fact that no one believed in you could serve as an extra push, the push you would need to take down as many other tributes as possible in the process. 

You knew that you could do that. 

Though, that fire did sort of dull as soon as you walked into the large training room, surrounded by all the other tributes from all the other districts. Once you got a look at them up close, you were less sure of yourself than you had ever been. 

How quickly it had all changed.

From the moment you walked into that room, which was more of a cell of brushed aluminum and cool steel, you were forced to recon with the reality of the situation. 

This was happening. 

You were going to die. 

The way in which you would die wasn’t something you were all that fond of considering, but as best you could tell, the Career pack would be to blame. 

Stories of what they were capable of, training tirelessly to volunteer for their games and slaughter the competition were widespread all over Panem but you couldn’t have imagined how intimidating they were in real life. 

Each one of them was a skilled, and accurate, death machine and you had no chance of surviving an altercation with even the weakest among them, who you had ultimately decided was Glimmer. 

She was talented and smart but lacked the determination that the others had. 

Even in her case though, you could see what they always said about the Careers. They were raised to believe there was no other point to their lives other than to win the Hunger Games. 

If they didn’t win, they weren’t worth anything, not that it would matter. If they didn’t win, they would end up just the same as all the rest of you, in a shallow grave somewhere. 

That was just how it was. 

You did your best to keep to yourself at first, not wanting to elicit any more violence than absolutely necessary right off the bad. It was no secret to you that the other tributes didn’t take you seriously. 

The last thing you wanted was for them to try and prove themselves at your expense before you were out in that arena. 

Unfortunately, the other tributes, namely the Careers, had already made up their minds. In the few days that you had been training, they had been making fun of you the entire time.

For them, it was one big joke.

When they looked at you, it was clear that all they saw was the first person they were going to stick their swords into. They didn’t take you seriously at all and at this point, you weren’t even sure if you blamed them. 

Each time you threw a punch or swung your axe at a target, they hooted and hollered from their place on the sidelines and called you out for each imperfection they saw in your maneuvers, and they weren’t wrong. 

You had no idea what you were doing. 

This was all new for you, because where you were from, hand to hand combat just wasn’t something you would have ever come across. Before now, you hadn’t even seen most of the things in front of you here. 

You were out of your element.

By the end of the first week, you hadn’t even begun to make any progress. However, there was one thing that had changed and you couldn’t even pinpoint when or why it had happened. 

At some point, Cato had stopped criticizing you in the same way his compatriots were.

You weren’t sure why he would even bother, but seeing as you didn’t really talk to him, you couldn’t ask. It was much easier to just be silently grateful for the break, and try to focus on what you were doing. 

While it wasn’t looking good to start, you didn’t want to sabotage your chances of survival with any more wasted time.  

The other Careers had noticed the change in him too, but not one of them dared to comment on it, even if it didn’t make any sense to them. The anger that they would risk in doing so just wouldn’t be worth getting answers. 

Instead, they let him do whatever it was he was doing, waving it off as some kind of tactical maneuver. He knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t their place to ask too many questions and get him off his game. 

When Cato first headed in your direction, closing the vast distance between you on the training floor, you assumed that he was intent on proving to you just how out of place you were here. 

...But that couldn't have been farther from the truth. 

In truth, what Cato was doing was far from a tactical measure. More than anything, he just couldn’t bring himself to make fun of you anymore. 

He didn’t think that your weight alone was enough to warrant the constant abuse you were suffering. 

Besides, It was clear that you were putting in a lot of work to get better, which was more than most of the other tributes were doing. You weren’t going to take this lying down, which he could respect. 

From the looks of it, your technique just needed some polishing, and you would be just as good a fighter as anyone here, with the exception of himself.

“You need to strike higher” he prompted, coming out of nowhere and nearly shocking you out of your fighting stance. You had been so focused that you didn’t even hear him approach. 

Still, it didn’t occur to you that he might have been trying to help at first. After all this time, he didn’t strike you as the friendly, just trying to help type. He was much more of the scowl and stab sort of person. 

You couldn’t be blamed for feeling that way. 

“Strike higher” he repeated, closing the space between you to wrap his arm around your frame, moving your axe in the exact way he had been telling you to do. 

There was nothing snide or rude in his tone, but you couldn’t focus on that.

All you could think about were his strong hands on your body, and the clear concern he had for whatever in the world he could have wanted from you. 

You tensed under his touch, desperately trying to decipher how you had gotten to this point or what you were supposed to do now that you were here. 

There was nothing particularly romantic about his touch, which you understood, but it was still foreign to be on the receiving end of. No one had ever held you like this, under any circumstances.

“Hit here, not here” he muttered, his voice far too close to your ear this time, forcing a breath from your lungs you weren’t aware you’d trapped there. He moved the axe, and your arm attached to it, to demonstrate what he meant. 

...And as much as you hated to admit it, he was right. 

When he moved his arms, in succession with his words, he hit the target at jugular height, instead of in the trunk where you had been aiming.

It was a much better hit than you had been landing all day, showing how much more experience he had with this than you. 

“Thanks” you muttered, glancing at him quickly, desperately hoping that he wouldn’t look at you but you wouldn’t have been so lucky.

Cato looked down just at the same moment as you turned your head to take in his profile. 

You expected him to say something about it but he offered nothing, content to just stare back down at you with a slight smirk on his face. 

“Somebody bigger than you is going to be able to push back if you aim here” he explained finally, lightly resting the palm of his right hand against your abdomen where you’d been aiming before. 

It made sense, of course. 

“If you aim at the weakest part, it doesn’t matter how much stronger an opponent is” he hummed, this time bringing that same hand up to where your throat was, not missing the way you gulped under his touch. 

“And you can’t kill anyone aiming at their ankles” he laughed, shrugging at that, as if he shouldn’t have to explain that part to you. Even someone who knew nothing about this wasn’t going to be shocked at that. 

Cato just didn’t want you to think that he was playing some sort of sick game with you. He was really trying to help, even if that wasn’t really in his nature. 

Never in his life had Cato cared about anyone, or been drawn to another person like he was with you. 

His entire life was all about winning the games, and there was nothing more than that. 

That was all he’d ever cared about. 

...But for some reason, making sure that you survived this whole thing was becoming really important to him. 

There was just something about you that he couldn’t put his finger on, but whatever it was, he didn’t have all that much time to figure it out. This whole thing was happening, whether he wanted it to or not. 

The best thing he could do for you was prepare you to survive, with or without him. 

“Oh, I couldn’t kill anyone” you hummed, doing your very best to be as nonchalant about it as you could. You were doing your best to figure out how to protect yourself out there but you had already made you mind up on that front. 

You weren’t going to kill anyone. 

It was something you had decided on before you even knew your name had been drawn the day of the reaping, but this was new information for Cato. 

New information that almost shocked him into silence. 

Cato had always known that he would need to kill someone, at some point. It was never a question in his mind, or something that even had any effect on him. It was part of his life, and to hear that someone else had never even considered it was new for him. 

If you didn’t kill anyone the entire time you were in the arena, you would die. 

You had to know that. 

Surely you knew that. 

“If you don’t, you’re going to die” he spoke, the words leaving his lips before he even had time to react. There was a finality to it, something you hadn’t seen coming, and at first, you thought it may have been a joke. 

The two of you really didn’t know each other all that well, or at all, so making jokes seemed sort of strange but it wasn’t necessarily something that upset you. 

You were just shocked at his urgency. 

This really was something that was bothering him, but there was one thing that was still bothering you. This was the first time you had ever spoken to him in your life, and as flattered as you were that he cared about what happened to you, it didn’t make any sense. 

Why did he care about someone like you? 

[sophiashortcake]

— 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄 🍰

“I GUESS I’M JUST A PLAY DATE TO YOU.”

previous ❀ next ❀ series masterlist

𝟏𝟑. y/n shouldn’t be allowed to drink

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: kicked out of her home with no place to go, y/n is forced to move into her family friend’s home, who coincidentally is also the family of tsukishima kei, the boy who denied her confession.

Kei knew he was shit at apologies.

His entire life, he never bothered to apologize. Sure, there were instances when he was a kid where his mother would scold him for playing too roughly with his brother and he would have to stubbornly mutter an, “I’m sorry.” Or sometimes he’d give a quick, “sorry” to Yamaguchi when he was being particularly snarky that day. But none of those were real apologies, none that would help him now. They couldn’t prepare him for when you walked through the door.

He heard the front door open from his bedroom, instantly knowing it was you from your soft footsteps. He had been sitting in his room, trying to think of what to say, but how do you apologize to someone who you unjustifiably called an attention whore who had daddy issues? (Kei cringed at the memory, realizing how much of a jackass he sounded.)

His hand hesitated when it reached the doorknob to walk out to you, what would he even say? He couldn’t even text you a proper apology (he’s pretty sure you blocked him anyway). Swallowing down his uncertainty, he turned the doorknob.

You had just reached the top of the stairs when he opened the door, your face instantly curling with irritation. Before he could even open his mouth, you marched to your room, and slammed the door shut.

“Y/N, wait!” He called, running over to your room.

He went to open your door, instantly throwing out his ‘no entering each other’s rooms’ policy, only to find it already locked.

“Y/N, open the door please-”

Your door flew open, your expression eerily bright.

“Oh? Are you here to call me an attention whore again?” You chirped. “Maybe you can grade my daddy issues!”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve that, I was just being a jackass-”

“Y’know, Kei? That seems to happen alot with you…” You hummed in fake thought, “have you ever considered, maybe you just actually are a jackass?”

“Y/N-”

“Kids! Akiteru’s home! Come downstairs!” His mother called from the kitchen.

“Go fuck yourself, Kei,” you snapped, before heading downstairs.

That couldn’t have gone any worse.

At dinner, nobody could have guessed you were angry at all. You wore a cheerful smile, getting along with everybody with your animated conversation, well, besides him. You had ignored him all dinner, barely even sparing him a glance.

“Oh, I have something!” His brother said, before running into the kitchen. He came back and presented a bottle of sake. “I thought I would bring something home.”

“Akiteru, just because you’re the drinking age now doesn’t mean you can drink at dinner,” his mother sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, just let him pour us a glass, this is a special dinner since we barely see him anymore,” his father said.

“Pour the kids a glass too while you’re at it. Hayami, if you’re okay with Y/N drinking, that is,” he added.

“A small glass won’t hurt, we’re in the house anyway,” Hayami shrugged.

Akiteru fetched some glasses from the kitchen, pouring out small amounts and passing them along the table. He took a sip, ignoring the burn in his throat as he swallowed it down.

You took a small sip before coughing, patting your chest as you retched.

“Don’t tell me I raised a lightweight,” Hayami joked, poking your side. You fumed as she giggled.

The rest of dinner passed by the same, you continued to ignore him, making him lose hope you’d ever forgive him. As time went, he took notice how your cheeks started to flush, your swaying in your seat, and your higher pitched voice. You weren’t actually a lightweight, were you?

“So Y/N, how’s Kei at school? I wanna hear all about it,” Akiteru teased. Kei shot him a glare which Akiteru stuck his tongue out at.

“Kei is actually an asshole,” you slurred. “He’s rude, condescending, and I’m not sure why I ever liked him.”

The table stilled.

Oh no.

Hayami choked on her drink, his mother gasped, his father awkwardly sipped from his glass, and Akiteru’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head. Kei never wanted somebody to put him out of his misery more than he did now. Kei prayed to every god there was that this wasn’t actually happening, but there was a good chance this was karma, and God was actually laughing at him instead.

“Y/N!” Akane gasped, “you like Kei?” His mother was too meddling for her own good.

“Liked,” you clarified, “up until I confessed and he decided to grade my letter instead, in case you didn’t know, I failed with a D-!”

“Kei! I raised you better than this!” His mother hissed before turning back to you, “when was this?”

“The day we moved in. Imagine my surprise when I found out that day I was gonna move in with the guy who rejected me!” You dramatically whined.

Kei debated if he could stab himself with his pair of chopsticks.

“You graded her letter?” Akiteru replied, “What kind of asshole does that?”

“Thank you!” you sang, “y’know, I think you’re my favorite Tsukishima brother.”

“So Kei, why’d you grade her letter, huh?” Akiteru asked, turning the attention to him.

“I- Uh- Well I didn’t know her…”

“You could’ve just said no,” Akiteru deadpanned.

“He did it because he’s a jerk!” You exclaimed, your face in a pout.

“I know it had a few grammar mistakes and all but it’s the thought that counts!” You whined, tears starting to bubble in your eyes.

Not only were you drunk, you were a crying drunk.

“I think Y/N is done for tonight,” his mother chimed, “Kei, could you take her to her room and make sure she gets to bed?”

His shot Hayami a mischievous grin that Hayami grimaced to (and one that he nor Y/N picked up on).

Kei wanted to decline, but with the way everyone was staring at him, he decided it’d just be better to agree and get it over with.

“Alright,” he sighed, making his way over to your swaying form. He tried to throw your arm over his shoulder, but you wiggled free.

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” You protested.

“Y/N, could you please just-”

“No!” You barked.

He tried again, to no avail.

“Okay, you know what?” He muttered, growing irritated. In one fell swoop, he picked you up bridal style.

“Let me down!” You whined.

“When we get to your room, I will.”

You glared at him, but stopped trying to fight your way free. He exhaled in relief, and made his way to the staircase.

When you two were out of earshot, his mother leaned over to Hayami.

“I was thinking of a spring wedding,” she whispered.

“Akane!”

Making your way to your room was quiet since you decided to stop fighting, you even wrapped your arms around his neck to avoid falling.

“You’re a real jerk,” you mumbled, your face buried in his neck, not brave enough to meet his eyes.

“I know,” he replied, nudging open your door.

He made sure to carefully place you down into your bed, as you already began to curl up.

“Cold,” you muttered.

“What? Do you want me to tuck you in too?” He quipped sarcastically. “Was carrying you to bed not enough?”

“Hmph!”

“Fine, fine, brat,” he replied, pulling your covers over you as you pulled it up to hide your face.

Poking your eyes up from the covers, “are you really sorry?”

“I am,” he muttered, “you didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry I said what I did today, I really am.”

You yawned, “I believe you.”

“Wait, you do?”

You had already closed your eyes though, beginning to drift off.

He chuckled, of course you would fall asleep before he could ask more.

He made his way out to the door, turning back to you.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭: y/n still keeps the letter in her stationary box in her desk.

𝐚/𝐧: i literally rewrote this chapter five times before i posted it 😡 but i hope you guys are aboard the kei train now, he ain’t a bitch all the time!! well most of the time anyway teehee

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[raimaamjad]

Uzi

“Mohammad Usman Chaudhry, a 21-year-old Pakistani American, was fatally shot at 1435 N. Curson St. in Hollywood at 4 a.m. Tuesday, March 25.” Funny, that’s not how they identified his body after failing to notify us for twenty one days. They thought he was black. I’ve heard the phrase “manners maketh man.” I didn’t realize when it comes to identifying a body, hair texture could maketh man as well. Would we have known sooner if he was correctly labeled as Pakistani? Would it have been even longer? I think it depends on your bias of choice.

According to the LA times, “Officer Joseph Cruz and his partner were patrolling the street when they saw a dark figure by an apartment complex. The officers approached to investigate and encountered Chaudhry lying behind some bushes. As Cruz was questioning Chaudhry, he pulled out a folding knife and stabbed Cruz on the left hand. Cruz pulled out his gun and fired several rounds at Chaudhry. Los Angeles Fire Department paramedics pronounced Chaudhry dead at the scene at 4:21 a.m.”  Mohammad Usman Chaudhry was not a dark figure, he was a human being. He was somebody’s son, somebody’s brother. Mohammad Usman Chaudhry was my cousin. He was also the last person in the world to own a knife, let alone draw one upon an officer of the law. No one believed the bullshit for even a split second.

Usman came from a home that you would call, in my judgemental culture, “broken.” Growing up I always knew that in terms of the rest of my family, Usman’s was different. His parents did not sacrifice their entire lives for their children or place the pressures of their happiness on them. They found solace in their own pursuit of knowledge, studying what they desired and working the occupations that appealed to them. Their entire world was not their kids, and while in the United States would constitute that as healthy, in Pakistan it meant you were a failure of a  parent. If your child was not successful, you were not successful. If your child was not the only priority in your life, there is something definitely wrong with you. My aunt and uncle had three children: Umar, Usman, and Usma. When Umar was born, my aunt and uncle left the country to study abroad and left him under the care of my grandparents for six years. This is what was the first sign of the reckoning to come. When they returned, Usman refused to live with them. “That’s not my home, home is where I grew up.” Continuing to stay in my grandparents home instead, Umar had a new set of parents. He did not need my aunt and uncle to raise him because he’d already been raised by the same people who raised his father. You’d have thought they did a good enough job the first time around, but apparently not if their child was handing off his own to galavant the world instead. At least, that’s how society saw it.

And because their first shot at having a child was a failure, they set out to have a second. Enter, Usman. Usman was born a year after they returned to the states, and just in case they screwed up another kid they had a backup plan pop out nine months later. Her name was Usma. Not having their brother in the house definitely put a strain on their family, both internally and facing the judgement of society about what had gone wrong. Nonetheless, the siblings still kept in touch and tried to remain closer than ever. It was clear that Usman was unfortunately, not the brightest bulb in the room. This wasn’t his fault by any means, he was just born on the spectrum and diagnosed as an autistic from a young age on. His parents knew that nothing could be done and because of this “hindrance” he would never be the success they wanted him to be, so their hopes were drawn to their last and final child.

Usma and Usman did live in the same house, and because of this the pair were closer siblings than with Umar. Usma received the most attention, and the most pressure from their parents because she was their only chance at a future. One kid they didn’t screw up.

Because Usman was autistic, and would often wander from home. He built his sense of community with the homeless.  He’d disappear for days on end and no one would look for him. “He was an adult”, they would say. “He needs his space, we don't want to suffocate him.” Well I hate to break it to you, but your “space” got more than 6 feet of space between his corpse. He was autistic, and not ready to be out in the world alone. He didn’t need space, he needed someone to protect him. We were all deeply upset when we found out about his death, but the grief could not overtake the comments that came with it.

“Maybe if they’d raised him right this wouldn’t have happened”

“If they’d paid better attention to him, maybe he wouldn’t have been murdered like this.”

“It’s because of his hair and his dark skin. His parents should have straightened it and not let him go out into the sun so much, they wouldn’t have thought he was black then. ”

My parents especially would say the most, that Usman’s parents basically killed them with their neglect. I wanted to tell them that they tried their best like all parents, like they do. But I didn’t. I wanted to tell them that no, it wasn’t their fault, they made mistakes but my aunt and uncle didn’t kill their son. But I didn’t. I wanted to tell them that they didn’t hold that gun up to him and pull the trigger, that someone else was behind the shot. I wanted to tell them that being black wasn’t a reason to die. But, I didn’t.

And I still don’t know why I didn’t. What was I scared about? Scared to have my own thoughts? Scared of l guilt for “talking back” to my elders because I didn’t share the same view points? As time went on so did the fight to bring justice to Usman’s name. My uncle and aunt would lead multiple protests against the LAPD  and although my family knew Usman was innocent, no one but his parents and Usma would go to clear Usman’s name. They were too scared of making a ruckus in public. Just like I was too scared to make a ruckus in my own home.

I asked if I could go to the protests for Usman’s justice. Of course, that was completely out of the question.

“Are you out of your mind? You’re too young to know what you’re doing going to a protest.”

Fifteen years old is apparently not enough time for the brain to form an opinion.

“What will people say?”

And just what will they say? That an innocent man was murdered and his family is there to support him? Why are we worried about what people have to say when our family member was murdered in cold blood? Why should we be scared to make noise when we know we’ve been wronged? Why was I too scared to speak against my family’s opinions, even when I knew THEY were being wrong? Was there even a difference between them and me if I let it happen?

Well, LA Times, let me give you a run down of what really happened. “Officer Joseph Cruz and his partner were patrolling the street when they saw a dark figure by an apartment complex. As if that statement isn’t racist enough, don’t you worry it gets worse. The officers approached to investigate, and encountered Usman lying behind some bushes. Cruz had a history with Usman, and often harassed him and other homeless people, probably of color. Funny, considering his last name is Cruz. Cruz sent his partner to “investigate Chaudhry” on the database located in the police car. When out of his partner’s line of sight, Cruz pulled out his proceeded to shoot him. Usman was immediately dead. Cruz withdrew a folding knife from his pocket, and threw it next to Usman’s body. His partner lied and said that he was with Cruz the whole time, and Cruz shot Usman in self defense. He lied not to protect only Cruz’s name, but the name of every other murderous cop that has gotten away with taking an innocent life because their skin does not match the hues of the snow but the shade of earth. Los Angeles Fire Department paramedics pronounced Chaudhry dead at the scene at 4:21 a.m.”

The only people’s opinions we should have been worrying about were the Jury’s when it came to declaring a verdict on the civil rights trial that followed suit. The trial that revealed that Officer Cruz wasn’t just a stranger to Usman, but someone he frequently encountered on his check ups of LA. The trial that told us the only DNA found on the knife was Officer Cruz’s. The trial that told the world that Usman Chaudhry was wrongfully murdered by an abusive LAPD police officer who tried to slander his name.

Soon we were receiving calls of congratulations and apologies from everyone we know. Usman’s  name cleared and his trial gained fame highlighting the true corruption of the LAPD. Images of my aunt and uncle and cousin leading the masses that never doubted my cousin's innocence from the beginning stamped on the front page of every paper. People began asking why my family weren’t present in any of the protests. I wonder what they will say.

[aesthyuckic]

AVENOIR | l.dh - SEPTENDECIM

(gif not mine - credit to rightful owner)

Genre: High School AU (at beginning) ; Tarot Reader!Witch!Hyuck

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: (bold if in use) slow but with a purpose, belief contradictions(??), mentions of r*pe, blood, swearing, violence(??), mentions of abuse

Pairings: Lee Donghyuck (Haechan) x Reader (F)

X OF WANDS: accomplishment, responsibility, burden

The next morning, it was Johnny that came by to wake her up. He could still see the tiredness left on her face from the previous day but unfortunately, the police were pestering him to be able to see her for questioning. She seemed exhausted by the end of it, even if she had fabricated it a bit it hadn’t stopped her from helplessly running the dreaded scene through her head over and over again. She sat there in the dull room with heavy eyes and her arms crossed, rather emotionless.

They thanked her for her statement as they ended the recording they took for the trail. Everyone was hoping they’d be long gone when Ten got convicted anyway, they wanted to forget it all... She didn’t understand how she wasn’t in trouble... She did stab him and while it seemed out of dense for others, she knew her pent up anger and sadness had gotten to her. The strange thing was, the guilt wasn’t really eating at her like she’d expect... She barely felt it and she couldn’t help but wonder if the darkness of the world had gotten to her or if it was somehow passed down through the family.

“I have a question,” She shot up. “Can I see Ten?”

For some reason, they said she could. Even took her to the hospital that he was still being treated at... for the wound she caused. When they opened the door to the room, he was sound asleep. They told her they’d be right outside in case anything happened and closed the door. She saw the bandages wrapped around his abdomen and the handcuffs that restrained him to the bed so he couldn’t escape. She looked at the bandages, still for some reason not feeling bad and she question why. Usually, she couldn’t help but feel that way.

She hated it so much... maybe she was a little evil after all. She stood there, an unbelievable amount of anger she had never felt before filled her. It took everything thing in her to not punch his face awake and instead to just shake him awake. He was startled as he looked around and rubbed his eyes. Once they had landed on her, they filled with fear as he tugged on the handcuffs that clint against the metal bar of the bed. To see the terror of in eyes at just the sight of her, that’s what really made her sad.

“Oh, would you stop freaking out?” She asked, annoyed. “I couldn’t do anything even if I wanna!”

“You stabbed me, you bitch!” He hissed. “You could’ve killed me!”

“And you could’ve killed Haechan!” She retorted. “What’s your next point? Also, what’s the saying? Takes one to know one?”

He huffed, giving up and throwing himself back on the bed. It was all too clear that he was pissed now.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He scoffed. “You want to ask me why I did it again? Hear it in court like everyone else.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d go to your hearing.” She snapped. “I don’t need to know why, I know you did it and that’s enough. It’s not like I’ll be here by the time it comes around anyway... I think it’s apparently that Johnny has fired you but thought I should tell you, just in case. If you already knew, oh well, salt in the wound... it will never make up for what you did to Haechan... Maybe rotting in a jail cell for years to come for to attempts of murder will though.”

“I didn’t touch you.” He gritted. “You put my gun to your head.”

“You kept it there. You could’ve so easily pulled the trigger like you had done only a few minutes before, too. I wouldn’t have actually lived through it if you did and that’s how everyone sees it.”

“You stabbed me!”

“Self dense.”

“That’s what it may have looked like but you know damn well it wasn’t! You were angry and sad because I hurt your stupid boyfriend!”

“I was scared of you too... You had a gun, Ten...”

“You’re twisting it all, you’re evil.”

“I may be bad, but you’re worse...”

“Am I though?”

To be the honest, the whole thing had left her silent and thinking. Was she any better than him? It was her worst nightmare to be rotten... Was it all twist? Shouldn’t she also be in custody? It was too much... She shrugged before she left the room as she continued to second guess herself and the current state of her reality.

She thanked the investigators, quietly for allowing her to see the young adult. She wondered if they were listen and if they were how much they heard. She hoped little to nothing, honestly. She sighed as she walked away, releasing the tenseness in her. With that she felt exhausted again.

Was she good anymore? After what had happened? She couldn’t stop asking herself that. All she wanted to ever be was good... Of course, there always needed to be a little bad in good...

She reminded herself of that all the way into the elevator. She was thankful Ten and Haechan were at the same hospital in that moment, considering her morning already. Even if he wasn’t awake, she looked foreword to seeing him once again. It made her feel secure just to see him... To know he was there. It had reminded her of how long it had been. In fact, it had almost been a year since they had ran away together. It shocked her to think about how they went from complete strangers to close friends that were too obvious with their feelings... So long, but so little...

The elevator doors dinged as they opened to the floor she wanted. She was surprised when the first thing she saw was a bunch of her friends standing in front of the nurse’s desk, some sitting too. They looked rather bored until they noticed her there. They all rushed over and started talking at once, only to leave her catching small bits and pieces of what they were saying. They asked how the boy was and how she was doing for the most part. Sicheng, being different, was the one apologizing on Ten’s behalf. It really was something he always had to do...

It made her smile to know she had them there for her as well as him. It was something she had never really experienced and for once, she gladly took the hugs they offered.

“Can we see him?” Hendery asked.

“He’s not awake, but yeah!” She nodded. “Not all at once, I don’t think though...”

“Fuck that.” Jeno groaned.

“It’s a harzard, dude.” Xiaojun informed.

“Um, maybe we should come back later...” Jaehyun chimed in. “I think Cosimia needs sometime alone with Haechan.”

Everyone was quiet for a moment as they looked at one another before they all miraculously agreed. The huge group started to walk toward the elevator, expect for Jaemin. He still stood there, with a blue vase full of yellow flowers that he had been holding the whole time. He handed them off to girl once everyone had walked away.

“They’re for Haechan.” The pink haired boy said. “They reminded me of his name and I think he said he liked them so, yeah. I thought it might be something nice to wake up too.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, weakly which he had returned with a smile, thumb ups, and some encouraging words for her.

She watched him run over to others to catch the next elevator. She turned her attention back to the flowers. They were sunflowers, such a bright yellow it reminded her of crayons that children used to draw the sun in the corners of their papers with. It made her smile to herself as she had remembered the nickname his mom had apparently gave to him as a child... He said Haechan had meant ‘full sun’ in Korean one of the morning they had spent on the couch. She couldn’t help but think it was fitting to him. The color yellow always suited his glow... Even smiling at the memory she had found herself crying...

She walked back to his room to set next to his bed after she had wiped her tears away. It did lighten up the dull, miserable hospital room. It made her realized how emotional drain she had been, looking at the scene in front of her. She sighed before she crawled into the same spot she was in yesterday as he hadn’t moved at all... It was just too peaceful for him and somehow the heart monitor and the warmth that radiates from his body was incredibly therapeutic to her.

She draped her arm across his waist before she looked at him. He was beautiful... but motionless in every way. She began to miss the smile that so often blessed his lips that always had her doing the same in the end. She missed his entire presence, honestly. The short time without him felt so much longer in her mind and she wondered when he’d wake up At least, she could still feel the rise and fall of his chest in his unconscious state though...

Tears were slipping again as she had recalled last night when a nurse had walked in. The girl was just playing with his hair as it was getting rather long. The nurse had said something along the lines of how lucky he was to have someone never leave his side like her and how cute of a couple they were. She hummed in respond with a nod and a quiet, small ‘thank you’ before they left the room.

She dozed off to that thought and almost everyday for a week it was like a routine for her. She’d come to the hospital every morning just to spend all of the visiting hours with Haechan, a lot of time finding herself falling asleep next to him. Then Lucas and one of the other boys would come to pick her up in the evening and she’d stay awake all night. It’d repeat everyday like that and seemed as if that’s all she know.

Somebody would have to remind her everyday to take care of herself as well. They’d make her eat as she’d just go without to stay with the sleeping boy and they’d also have to drag her back to bathe too. In fact, Lucas had to do that this morning. She had just come of the trailer with a fresh set of clothes on, her hair damp and curling up as she walked over to him, leaning against the trailer across.

“Are you ready to go back?” He asked as he stood up straight.

“Almost.” She responded. “Can you take me somewhere first?”

“Of course.” He nodded. “Just tell me where.”

They had walked over to his famous red motorcycle, Cosimia telling exactly where to go on the map before they had gotten on. She’d have to remind him exactly where to go every now and then. Soon enough they ended up on a hill with cliffs that dropped off right into a forest. It had metal bars that blocked it off. She signaled for him to pull over which he did. She was quick to hop off the motorcycle when he stopped it just to go look over the edge. She ran back over to leave her helmet on the seat before taking off down the side of the room.

“Hey!” Lucas yelled. “What are you doing?”

“Just stay there!” She yelled back. “I won’t be long!”

He sighed and rolled his eyes at her response but did as she said. She could take care of herself...

The girl eventually found a steep path were the metal broke open. She squeezed herself through the opening and climbed down the side. When she had reach the bottom, twigs started to crunch under her feet. The trees had surrounded her in a luscious green as she started to feel scared walking through the forest, a place she unfamiliar with. Though, when she saw a glimpse of silver in a clearing ahead, she realized she had found her way through just fine.

It was a car, covered in plants and fungus. She stood there and looked at from a distance. She had let her guard down some but the air was still tense as she slowly walked over. Her breath seemed to slow the closer she got. It was flipped over, the hood embedded in the earth from the years it had been there. Only some of the car remained silver... The rest was black from fire. The glass was long gone for the most part, lost in the dirt. It was all beat up.

She looked inside, at the driver’s seat and faint memories of her mother came back at the sight. It was sad to know most of them were made up from photos she looked through often even when she wasn’t suppose to. She could still see her sitting there. She didn’t expect it to be like this at all... She started to sob uncontrollably, the familiar warmth of tears streaming down her face with ease as she started to cry out to her.

“Mama...” She cried. “Please let Haechan be alright... Please, please, please...”

She begged to the presence around her that she had felt in the beginning. If there was anyone who could help, it was her mom, dead or alive. She continued to cry and beg for some time to help her, to help the only boy she had ever truly felt safe enough around before she felt drained once again. She went back the path and to Lucas. Her eyes and lips were swollen and it was all too noticeable when the boy had saw her.

“Are you okay?” He murmured.

“Yeah,” She nodded. “I just want to go back to see Haechan now.”

She put her helmet back on and everything remained silent as her friend started his bike again. She did her routine when they had arrived at the hospital. She went to go lay next to him and ended up falling asleep. Truthfully, everyone was really starting to worry about her a lot more. They were unsure if a part of her was missing or change...

In Donghyuck’s mind, something different was going on. He was surrounded by white light but nothing else was in his sight. He walked and looked around further into the emptiness of it all until he had bumped into something. Or rather someone he noticed once he turned around. He looked down to see a girl, a almost mirror image of Cosimia. She looked older though, mature in her twenties, thirties at most. Her clothes were bright, she had a darker complexion compared to his friend and her hair was black and braided off to the side.

“Cosi?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“It’s not your time...” She said, avoiding it all, her voice different too.

“What’s going on?” He asked, again with no response.

He began to here small, inaudible whispers around him that progressively got louder. Enough for him to hear that they were saying the saying the same thing she did. It became overwhelming quickly, as more joined in too. He heard a ringing start in his ears too. The light seem to engulf him as fell to the floor of his subconscious with his hands covering his ears in pain. He squeezed his eyes shut too and slowly, the ringing and whispers faded away.

He opened his eyes again, only to be in a much different setting this time. He saw the wall of the hospital room, the tubes connected to his arm and the sound of a heart monitor. He felt a deep pain in his chest when he tried to move and he looked down to see he was shirtless with a piece of gauze place in the middle of his chest. He only then remembered what had happened... He groaned, quietly to himself as he tried to sit up.

He then noticed Cosimia was right there beside him, fast asleep. It made his heart swell and him just smile seeing her cuddled up next to him like that. Though, seeing the bags under her eyes more pronounced than usual made him frown. How long was he out? He was about to wake her up to let her know he was there again... But before he could he was interrupted.

“Hey!” A lady said startling him.

He looked over to where the voice came from, expect it to be a nurse but no. Instead, he was shocked to see it was the girl he thought was Cosimia only a few moments ago when he was unconscious. They wore the exact same clothes, hairstyle, had the same voice and look exactly the same too. He looked down at the girl beside him and felt a little scared due to what was going on.

“Who are you?” He questioned.

“Her mother.”

[kinnoth]

AVENGERS INFINITY WAR MEGATHREAD

-really doubt i'm gonna be able to finish this movie so we'll just see where i get to

- we already know how i feel about loki and thor, we don't need to revisit this

- ok but if i were going to revisit this, i mean come on, who wants to talk about "hela draws her power from asgard, same as you" cos i wanna talk about that

like what if that's the reason thor, god of thunder, king to a civilisation of warriors, was unable to fend off like, 4 dudes and a big purple dinosaur? the royal family of asgard draws its power from asgard, and without it, they are weak, they are mortal. maybe that's why heimdall is unable to just, you know, bifrost everybody off the fucking ship the minute it comes under attack. maybe that's why loki can't fucking conjure up a swarm of fucking microscopic knives to fillet the invaders from the inside out. MAYBE THAT'S WHY LOKI TRIES TO KILL THANOS WITH A FUCKING DAGGER. BECAUSE TAKE AWAY HIS POWER, TAKE AWAY HIS GODHOOD, WHAT DOES HE HAVE LEFT OTHER THAN HIS WILE, HIS TRICKS AND HIS BROTHER

WHAT IF IN SAVING THE UNIVERSE AND DESTROYING ASGARD, THEY'VE LOST EVERYTHING INCLUDING WHAT MAKES THEM GODS

somebody talk about this

- etc etc what if the reason loki is unable to attack the purple dinosaur with magic is because when he tackled thor earlier, he used whatever magic he had left to spare in order to heal him

checks out cos thor goes from flat on his face to swinging his fists in the space of like 30 seconds and the only thing to happen to him in between is said bit about loki tackling him

- why does heimdall save hulk? i mean, i could understand it if he were trying to aim the bifrost at thor and somebody somehow knocked off his aim and he accidentally saves hulk, but like, we've established that heimdall's loyalty is to the royal seat of asgard upon whom sits thor's mighty ass. thor who, in this scene, has just been incapacitated by a metal eggshell(?) and is at the mercy of their assailants. given heimdall's priorities, it is baffling to the point of inconceivability that he would preferentially save fucking HULK over his own king.

- if this next scene isn't the guardians of the galaxy coming across thor clutching loki's dead fucking body floating through space then i don't know why any of us are even here

- "he sent loki! the attack on new york was thanos!" makes no sense? like, if loki's scepter had the mind stone in it, which we established it did in the last movie when we broke it open to retrieve vision, then.....why didn't thanos just....take the mind stone in the first place? cos rock collecting is and has always been his goal?

what, do you think that just because you assert a thing makes us forget all the shit that happened before?

- i.....am actually with tony stark. why don't they just destroy the stones they have so that thanos can't get to them? oh, you made a promise? well promises change and circumstances change! you tell him tony! you tell that stupid fucker --

oh my god i'm gonna be ill

- i think the only person whose ego can match tony stark's is probably a neurosurgeon so 👍 i guess

-i love how we immediately went back to the "so dark can't see shit" aesthetic after ragnorak because ensuring that one's audience can SEE what is HAPPENING IN YOUR MOVIE is apparently for radical directors like taika waititi

- cannot believe that tony stark staring at captain america's phone number is being played with the same emotional intensity as thor losing his soulmate entire people

- honestly how many times is the mcu gonna invoke 9/11 imagery til someone calls them out for being terrorists

- lmao i know i said this before but peter's spidey senses tingling AFTER the giant alien anus has already started sucking up new york and it is right outside his window is fucking hilarious. that's just called using your eyeballs peter

- "friday notify first responders about the giant alien anus sucking up new york" lol like the first thing somebody did when the alien anus showed up wasn't to fucking call 911 GREAT IDEA TONY

- still can't believe that they let failed neurosurgeon dr strange do more magic than god of tricks and sorcery loki lol

- i know i rag on dr strange a lot about the fact that he's a neurosurgeon it's just that he sucks.

as a neurosurgeon eyy.

- i hate that peter parker has to be here!!!!! leave him alone!!!!!

- tony stark should not be allowed within 100 feet of children or minorities

- it is very weird to me that steve "brooklyn" rogers has an area code from georgia

- since when was hela a half-sister? ODIN'S DAUGHTER AND THOR'S BLOODED SIBLINGS OR BUST YOU FUCKING COWARDS

- i am very disappointed that thor is going to go get another weapon after we spent the whole last movie talking about how he is not the god of hammers

- i just need thor to have much more PTSD than he has right now. fucking hulk has ptsd. maybe they're saving the ptsd for later. one can only hope.

- i am glad that they are letting him be cleverer though

- THEY ARE LETTING VISION DATE A TEENAGER WHY

GOD. FUCKING GROSS.

- wait when did vision turn into a white man again? did i miss that movie?

- i am disappointed that vision the computer techno robot apparently has a penis. like what a stupid limitation to give your computer techno robot, gender. 🙄

- i think that the mass destruction of infrastructure and architecture in the MCU is because of the pg13 no blood limitation that disney has set? like there's no way to show destruction to the body, so one may only show the exponential destruction to one's surroundings. like imagine how much more dramatic intensity you could wring out of a regular fight scene would be if people were allowed to bleed?

- cannot believe that a computer techno robot and a witch are having a punch up with the bad guys. of all people to fight with something not their fists, it's these two

- wanda has no enhanced strength or durability? she's a regular teenager who's a bit witchy. the first time she got thrown through a glass door should have shattered her vertebrae. again i don't understand why we insist that everybody must have the same powers and capabilities when it's clear they don't. think about how much more interesting it would be if some avengers were more fragile than others and had to be given accommodations as such

- IT IS INCONCEIVABLE TO ME THAT FUCKING BLACK WIDOW (regular human), CAPTAIN AMERICA (enhanced human), AND FALCON (regular human with wings) CAN DEFEAT THE CHILDREN OF THANOS WHEN THOR COULDN'T UNLESS THOR (god of fucking thunder carved of steel and stone) WAS NERFED

- still don't understand how we'll lend aliens afro features but not afro hair, like, seriously? you're gonna dream up green aliens with gills who look like black people but imagining them with black hair is a step too far?

- the gap of commentary in this liveblog is simply because i do not care at all for the galaxy defenders

- "earth just lost her best defender" who? who does captain america consider earth's best defender? it's not thor; he doesn't know thor's presumed dead. it's not tony; he doesn't know tony's on an alien anus. who else has died so far?

- love how exhausted bucky looks. have always loved how exhausted bucky looks. love bucky.

- i forgot that tony was with peter parker. god i hate that.

- "i'm peter btw"

"dr strange"

"oh you're using the made up names then. i'm spider man"

ok that was cute, but peter's cute, we knew that already

- i want to fling both strange and stark into space and i'm having a hard time deciding which one to push first

- "you went to bed hungry, scraping for scraps" oohhhh thanos is just anti-poor people, he would literally rather poor people be dead than struggle, i get it nowww

this is on brand for mcu

- oh my god thanos gets 2/6 stones by torturing siblings in front of other siblings, seriously? you couldn't come up with 6 different ways to find his stupid rocks you had to reuse one twice?

- which one of thor's friends was stabbed through the heart....? fandral??

- "if i don't get my vengeance what more could i lose" more like what else is there eh? what else is there for a king of no people but their vengeance?

- CANNOT BELIEVE THEY GAVE HIM BACK AN EYEBALL JESUS CHRIST IF YOU DIDN'T LIKE THOR RAGNORAK JUST SAY SO YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO FUCKING

VEHICLE FOR AUTHORITARIANISM, NOTHING IS ALLOWED TO CHANGE, FUCK YOUR CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT I GOT MINE

FUCK

- i do enjoy that thor is now science fiction rather than fantasy, i don't think anybody knew what to do with fantasy cos fantasy is again, ultimately about conservatism and the status quo. so i do like that we're embracing the new and boundless for whatever that's worth.

- marvel is a cesspool of toxic masculinity. at no point are characters allowed to actually feel anything because weakness is uncool i guess and therefore unmanful. like thor lost ALL OF HIS PEOPLE. fucking ALL of them. he watched his brother die in order to save him. he is not allowed a single fucking response of mourning. i don't care if he's pushing it back because revenge or whatever, this is the sort of grief that rules you, which will bring all your load bearing structures down to heel, and they let him do nothing; he does not even rage. perfect control. smooth witticisms. why. why aren't we allowed to see his sadness?

- yo i can't believe red skull is a scifi villain now lol space nazis for real

- OH MY GOD THEY WASHED BUCKY'S WIG AND IT LOOKS SO BAD

- michael b jordan was right btw wakanda is complicit in africa's exploitation

- i do LIKE black panther i guess in the way you technically like that cousin you met once when you were like 9 and never saw again?

i like how we have here in wakanda the sears tower (chicago), the batman building (nashville), and the gherkin (london)

- ok but like, presumably not a death cult super technologically advanced wakandans who are deffo made of human flesh and human blood still arm their people with spears

i mean unless wakanda is also a death cult

why is this chicks entire fucking face cgi'd she looks like a fucking cut scene video game character

- oh ok they have LASER spears, ok

so then why did they give bucky a fucking gun

- what is bucky supposed to be able to contribute here exactly, like fucking, again, he's spycraft isn't he? he's a one man, dead of night, operation go loud and then immediately silent kinda operation. why do they have him on the front lines of a fucking lock-step formation battle??

- "it will be the noblest ending in history" WHAT, FIRST COUNTRY TO EVER BE OVERUN BY ALIEN JACKALS??

- stormbreaker is just leviathan axe, somebody's said this already right

- omfg i'm so glad they're finally acknowledging that thor is OP as fuck and does not belong amongst the fucking squabbles of earth

-"titan was like most planets, too many mouths to feed not enough to go around, so i proposed a plan, dispassionate to rich and poor alike" JUST SAY YOU HATE POOR PEOPLE MCU. YOU CANNOT HAVE RICH AND POOR, YOU CANNOT HAVE DISPARITY, YOU CANNOT HAVE SOME WITH TOO MUCH AND OTHERS WITH NOT ENOUGH AND CALL IT EXTINCTION. THAT IS NOT A QUESTION OF OVERTAXED RESOURCES THAT IS A QUESTION OF RESOURCE FUCKING MANAGEMENT. IT IS AN ARTIFICIAL CRISIS IF THERE EXISTS ENOUGH TO GO AROUND BUT SOME PEOPLE ARE JUST HOARDING IT THAT'S WHEN YOU KILL THOSE PEOPLE AND TAKE THEIR SHARE. KILLING HALF THE PEOPLE IS THE KIND OF FUCKING SOLUTION TO INEQUALITY THAT RICH PEOPLE COME UP WITH

GOD. ITS LIKE NONE OF YOU EVER READ

-you've got the big fucking boss in an ambush AND YOU ATTACK HIM WITH A MAGIC SWORD STEVEN STRANGE?????

THIS FRANCHISE HAS NO IDEA HOW TO UTILISE MAGIC USERS FUCKING HELL

- when will somebody please utilise ironman like the one man artillery he fucking is WHY IS HE FIGHTING WITH HIS STUPID FISTS HE IS LITERALLY ONE CONTINUOUS CARPET BOMB JUST USE HIM THAT WAY

cut of his arm CUT OFF HIS ARM YOU BLOODLESS SPINELESS USELESS FUCKING CUNTS . this is a manufactured crisis, KIND OF LIKE THE ONES THANOS LIKES I GUESS LOL

- dr strange could have very easily prevented or stopped quill from punching thanos but he didn't cos i guess even the movie forgets steven strange exists sometimes

- i like that the shield around wakanda has the same weakness as a poorly constructed chicken coop -- you always build into the ground a couple feet to stop the diggers man, come on, what is this, your first energy shield?

- oh disgusting, a girl boss moment. whatever you're all fascists.

- nobody adores martial might like fascists do fucking change my mind

- " avengers: not one person in this fucking cast is able to stomach ANY AMOUNT of personal sacrifice" more like

- "why did you give away the time stone?" "we are in the endgame" THAT'S NOT AN ANSWER THAT'S A FUCKING MOVIE TEASER FUCK YOU

- why didn't strange just trap thanos in a timeloop again? we've already established that is a perfectly acceptable way to deal with planetary annihilation. IS IT POSSIBLY BECAUSE NOBODY ON THIS WRITING STAFF KNOWS HOW TO DEAL WITH MAGIC

- THOR OP BLIZZARD PLS NERF

-CAPTAIN MARVEL SERIOUSLY THAT'S WHO YOU'RE GONNA SEND YOUR LAST PAGE TO JESUS FUCKING DISGUSTING

[lixuagi]

The Cure for Death - chapter 1

(Since some of you said that they would really like to read my Valdemar/MC FF -I’m so happy!!!- here’s the first chapter. This takes place before the actual Arcana storyline, when the Plague is looming over Vesuvia. MC’s abilities and character are based off of one of my ocs that I will introduce in another post. However I didn’t write about her appearence so everyone can imagine their own character, she’s a girl though and she uses feminine pronouns. I hope this doesn’t ruin the reading for anyone. Enjoy! Here’s some context): MC is Asra’s young and kind apprentice. She has a talent that even her master couldn’t teach: a natural talent for healing. But with great powers come great responsabilities, and she’ll learn that ending up working as a nurse for the infamous Quaestor Valdemar. However, a greater danger lurks in the shadow. Will her light still shine if faced with the dark?

Somewhere, in a world suspended between reality and intangible, someone was watching me. -I must have that power. It’s indispensable. – A voice too deep and greedy to not be evil. -I need it for everything to go as planned. I need it to succeed. I have to have it. I must… have her.- But I couldn’t know. . -Here we go. It’s all right now. Try to move your arm- I smile kindly at the little girl sitting in front of me in my shop. She does what she’s asked, smiling back with an even bigger grin that’s missing a canine. -Wow! You’re such a witch! – she giggles, waving her slender limb a few minutes earlier fractured by a bad fall. -I prefer mage, but thank you.- I sneer, watching the faint emerald light leave my palms. -Yes, as you wish! Mother told me she’ll come by in the morning to pay you properly.- I help her get back on her feet, and off the stool. -Tell her it’s not necessary. It was just a small thing.- I take her hand and walk her out the door. - Really?- Her big eyes open wide, glowing with amazement. I nod softly. -Thank you! You’re the nicest witch in the world!- just the time to give me a hug, and the little girl hurries out of the store. I follow her with my eyes, shouting: -Don’t tire that arm too much! And watch your steps next tim– I stop, realizing that, far away as she is, she probably can’t hear me anymore. I cross my arms, shaking my head and muttering to myself: -These kids…- I sigh, turning to go back in, but I find myself in front of Asra, my master and colleague. -A very good job as usual, MC.- he puts his hand on my shoulder with his usual politeness. I sense that’s not all he wants to tell me, so I wait for him to continue. -But you don’t eat with selflessness…you know times are hard. -I look down, feeling naive. -She was just a child…How could I ask her for compensation?- I know he doesn’t like to scold me, but his eyebrows, white as his thick hair, show that he’s already decided to do it. -You know that her mother is the wife of one of Vesuvia’s richest merchants. He would have paid us handsomely. Yours is a rare if not unique gift. No one has such mastery of healing magic as you. This must be rewarded.- I remain silent, my eyes fixed on the floor. Really, I’m a fool. How could I miss such an opportunity when people are starving outside or worse, consumed by the plague? Noticing that I’m silent, Asra sighs, just tightening his grip to reassure me. -It’s okay, MC. -I don’t want you to be hard on yourself about this. I didn’t mean to hurt you.- I put my hand on his, raising my eyes to meet his gaze of a soft violet, strong contrast to his amber skin. -I know. Maybe it’s just… - I swallow, looking for the best words. -I don’t want to be somebody who makes money off other people’s suffering.- he seems to get indignant and gets ready to argue about it, but I interrupt him before that happens. -I just want to help the cause. I just…want to save all those lives.- these words seem to calm him,and his expression comes back relaxed and apprehensive. -You’re not an Arcana. You’re a human being and you can’t save everyone. You have to accept that. You can’t keep accusing yourself forever after– I barely raise a hand to put a stop to his words. I don’t want to remember, but it’s inevitable. -If I had tried harder, if I had resisted…that man’s children would still have a father. He would have loved and protected them… - I cover my face with my hands, while the images of that day manifest before me like apparitions. The man had entered leaving a copious trail of blood behind him. He could hardly speak, given the numerous stabs he had received, from what I could understand, thanks to a robber. Every wound, extremely deep, that I could barely heal, deprived me of so much energy. When I got to what would later be his fatal cut, on the carotid artery, Asra had to tear me from the patient or I would end up going beyond my abilities and dying with him. He took it upon himself to tell the family of the deceased. I didn’t eat for a week after it happened. I felt like a murderer. The guilt gripped me, and was a painful grip. One day the doorbell rang, and I went to open the door. Even though Asra kept me from receiving any more customers while I was so exhausted, now he couldn’t do it because he went shoppingshopping for necessities. On the threshold were two children, brother and sister, the eldest being no older than eleven. -Daddy’s dead, and it’s your fault! -The hate with which the infant stared at me was unspeakable, while just behind him his little sister sobbed incessantly. I stammered something, pale in the face. Days later I saw them again in a wagon. He took the victims of the Red Plague to the Lazaret.

-Sometimes, when the door opens and the bells jingle, I think it’s their ghosts.-I whisper, looking down and staring into nothingness. A tear runs down my cheek, but I don’t realize it until Asra dries it with his thumb, bringing me back to reality. He doesn’t know what to say. Seeing me like that always breaks his heart. He

clutches me tightly, resting his chin on my head. I can feel his jaw tighten. He holds me like this for a few minutes, like he’s afraid I might disappear at any moment. After a long deliberation, he finds the strength to do what’s right. -What would make you happy? -My heart melts to feel he’s putting aside his fears for my well-being. -I want to go out there. I don’t care what happens next. I need to redeem myself, or I won’t be able to go on. -A doubt grips him though, forcing him to give it voice: -Let’s consider the possibility of a repeat of…that unfortunate event. How would you handle it? - I think carefully about the answer. -I’ll have to make it up to it again. For every victim there’ll be three times as many healed.- I clench my fists and I get out of the hug. Even the young man notes that my eyes are full of determination. -if not more. Every night I’ll go to bed exhausted and if not I’ll have to continue even when the moon is shining. It’s my nature, Asra. I was born for this.- I run to the back room, where we both live. His lips open in an expression of utter amazement. Ever since I was a child he has taken me under his wing, finding me in the middle of the road healing pets for pennies. By now he knows me like the back of his hand, or so he thought. He had never seen such passion in a girl who was usually shy and caring. I’ve grown up. At this moment, Asra Alnazar ceases to think he educated me personally. He took care of me, like a gardener watering his flower, just waiting for me to bloom on my own. And at this point there’s nothing he can do. He realizes that if I wanted to, he would have to let me go.

When I return, I have the bag over my shoulder, loaded with everything that could be useful to me during my journey, including, of course, my deck of tarot cards. Although my specialty is healing magic, over the years I have been taught to master the white one discreetly as well. Black magic is still an unexplored

territory, and frankly I hope I never have to experience it. It was always Asra who left me alone in the shop

during his expeditions in who knows which corner of the real world or magical realms. Now it’s my turn.

Let’s call it a declaration of independence.

-Where will you go?- he asks me, eyes veiled with sadness as he suppresses a “will you come back?” -Where’s the need for me to be.- I smile at him, but it’s not enough to calm him down. I look at his worried

face. -This isn’t a good-bye, Asra.- - Promise me.- He’s holding out a hand while also holding something

back. I hand him mine, and he drops a necklace in my palm with an emerald pendant amulet. -What is it?- I

don’t swear. Anything could happen out there. I may never get back to him. -When you need me, if you’ll

ever do, you can contact me with this. I’ll always be with you, MC.- He’s coming up to me, putting his arms

around my neck. I blush at the proximity of our faces. As soon as I hear the click of the necklace closing, I

pull away. Many times I have wondered if in all these years of living together Asra had ever wanted me to

be something more than an apprentice or a friend. But even more I wondered if I wished that too. These

moments with him seem to give me the illusion that it wouldn’t hurt to be with him for the rest of my life.

After all, he has never been anything but kind to me, and a thousand other good things. However, although

these reflections confuse me quite a bit, a part of me wants our relationship to remain pure, genuine. It’s

too precious, it goes beyond physical attraction. It’s so deep that it’;s platonic. If I ever had to make a choice,

I’d die for him. And I’m sure he’d do the same for me. -I have to go- I whisper to him with my head down

without having the courage to look at him again. I put my hand on the door knob and turn it, opening the

door wide. -MC.-I turn to him, and it hurts. For a moment I have the impression that he wants to reveal

his deepest confessions and his innermost thoughts to me. Then he bites his lip like he’s taking it all back. -

You haven’t promised yet.- I smile at him. -I’ll come back,I promise you that.- I didn’t think the first time I

left Asra would be the first time I could lie to him. But with those words,I disappear from his sight,not

knowing for how long.

.

I look around. The streets of Vesuvia have never been so deserted. A boiling wind lifts the sand from the clay soil, creating a vermilion mist. I decide to pass through the market, usually the place that is swarming with people, especially in the late afternoon. Few stalls have the courage to continue selling, the merchants constantly exposed to the incurable and deadly disease. In the distance I can see the stall of Selasi, the baker from whom Asra and I used to go every morning to have breakfast, in more pleasant times. The closer I get, the more I notice the scarcity of the goods: even for him the raw materials are now unobtainable. When he notices me, the man makes his gaze lighten towards my figure, then looks away, as if terrified. To say the least, a peculiar behavior given his joyful character. I remember how his face lit up at the sight of every customer, who he treated daily with all the warmth that a friend would give. Now I stand a few meters away from him when I feel that something is wrong. A familiar aura surrounds him: that of someone who is suffering. My slow pace becomes fast as I approach him: -Selasi!- he jumps. His face looks very emaciated. It’s not just the famine. -Ah, Miss MC… -What can I offer you today?- His voice is a tired, almost inaudible rale. Even stranger, since he is used to shouting to be heard by crowds. His gaze is firmly planted on the ground. -Selasi… you are…- -Don’t come any closer!- I back away, surprised by that shout. Then he continues, mortified: -Please…I don’t want you to…- The question is enough to convince him to look me in the eye. His are injected with blood, his sclera is totally vermilion, his skin is pale and cracked. I have never seen a plague patient so closely, but I can recognize them thanks to Asra’s stories and the medical documents he had given me. He had never allowed me to treat one in the shop, he was afraid that I would be drained of any strength or worse, infected. I wonder if I’d be able to do anything. -Why didn’t you come to me? You’re a friend.- I’m trying to get closer, but he’s reluctant. -I can’t risk causing anyone’s death, I just can’t. I try to keep my distance, but… - one cough interrupts him. He tries to turn around, but when he does, blood splashes on a loaf of bread. The disease takes its course in three days. The first you have a harmless fever, the third you’re at the Lazaret, waiting for your body to be burned among hundreds more. -Please, let me help you. I’ve treated sick people before, certainly not this kind of pathology, but I’ve never been infected. Please, Selasi.- the choice is not difficult for him, after all what does he have to lose? If he doesn’t try, he’ll die soon anyway. -I don’t have much on me, but…- -No, I don’t want anything. I just don’t want you to suffer anymore. Your offer almost hurts me. I’m not that kind of person, not anymore.- Somehow I’ll find other ways to make a living. I extend my hands to his face, and this time he won’t retract. My palms glow bright green. The brighter it is, the greater the effort. Now it looks so bright that I feel like I’ll be blinded at any moment. However, I’ve been practicing a lot since the accident. I am able to endure this, and even more so as I close my eyes to concentrate. My energy penetrates under his skin, looking for the focus of the discomfort. I can feel it flowing, it is liquid and it expands throughout his body, everywhere. It’s… the blood. The problem is now all over the circulatory system, and it’s invading the other organs with disarming speed. I have to stop it. I channel my magic into every single artery, vein and capillary. Nothing must be left uncovered. My being, meanwhile, is now in a total trance. I am no longer aware of the outside world. All I see is my light branching out into thousands of wires and tunnels. When I have invaded every zone, I try to keep my breathing regular, ignoring the dizziness that begins to manifest itself, and I begin purification. I hope that Selasi is feeling instant relief, it would mean that it is working. My stomach is writhing on itself, nauseated, and my legs are made of butter. I can do this. The darkness is about to disintegrate, I can feel it. My temples are throbbing. The heavy air comes in and out of my lungs quickly. I slowly close my fists, calling the light back to me. -Purify and return.- I whisper the formula needed to end the spell. I feel the energies come back to my hands, even if they have now decimated, they have finished their task. I hope it has been successful as I squint my eyelids. My feet touch the ground again. Apparently I was really floating. -Selasi…? -I hardly whisper. I can’t find any answers. For a moment I’m afraid I lost him. My vision is blurred and distorted, I can’t distinguish shapes and sounds come to me muffled. Maybe he’s talking to me, but I can’t hear him anymore. The darkness overwhelms me as I abandon myself to its warmth.

Immersed in the darkness, I can only hear the echo of my thoughts. It’s ridiculous. It would be pathetic if the first time I left Asra, I died. Maybe that’s exactly what happened to me, though. Maybe there was a reason I was never allowed to treat Red Plague patients. Maybe it would have been fatal. At least I saved a life. At least I redeemed myself. I remain immersed in that dense shadow for what appears to be an infinite amount of time. Then I see a pristine light, the famous light at the end of the tunnel. Where is it taking me? When I try to walk towards it I find myself unable to move. But it’s getting bigger, it is the one who is getting closer. My ears ring, it’s deafening. Where am I? When I come out of the luminous aura, I begin to struggle to distinguish a figure. They’re dressed in white, they have a gown, a strange headgear of the same colour in the shape of horns, the skin… green. My imagination is playing tricks on me. They wear a ruby coloured brooch on their chest, it’s shaped like a beetle, and their eyes are bloodshot, with a feline pupil. I’ve never seen this individual. The ringing in my ears fades to make room for sound. The figure is talking. -Oh, you’re waking up, I see.- -Mm…am I dead? Are you an angel?- A giggle answers me. -Oh, no, to be precise, I’m quite the opposite.-

.

Notes: thank you for reading! If you enjoyed it please leave a like/reblog/comment with your opinion and/or how would you like the story to go on! Ik that we meet dr vivisexy just at the end but this is just the beginning, things will change :3 Please keep in mind that english is not my native language so padron me if I made any mistakes!

[unfortunate-stranger-losers]

All Those Things They Couldn’t Say - A Runaway Baudelaires AU

{ao3} {tumblr} {masterlist}

Chapter Twenty - New Allies at Prufrock

“So you’re transferring from… Wade Academy?” 

Violet smiled, wishing quietly that Klaus hadn’t chosen a real school he could check up on. “Yes, sir. Our papers should have arrived last week. Perhaps they’re in your desk?” 

“Perhaps they’re in my desk! Well, I will check my desk.” 

Violet and Klaus shared exasperated looks as the Vice Principal bent over, rifling through the drawers that Violet had shoved their forged papers into several hours before. It hadn’t taken long for Klaus to get them into the school under assumed identities- this time, Emily and Liam Sonnenfeld- but fuck if dealing with the shitty Vice Principal wasn’t the hardest part. Violet swore she was a few minutes away from just stabbing him and calling it a day. 

Nero pulled out some papers, his brow furrowing as he scanned them. “Yes, these seem right…” he muttered. “Though I can’t quite remember contacting your previous school.” 

Violet quickly smiled and said, “Well, I’m sure a genius like you has more important things to worry about than some boring transfer students. Like your violin practice.” 

“Yes, indeed.” Vice Principal Nero nodded, smugness creeping across his face. “It’s nice to be appreciated. The last transfers- these two annoying orphans- wouldn’t stop bothering me. We’re not quadruplets, we’re twins. Why do we have to go to a shack? Such ungrateful children.” 

“Such ungrateful children.” Klaus echoed, looking like he wanted to die and also like he wasn’t paying much attention. 

“Now, I see your parents have signed here, and we luckily do have free rooms in the dorms. Boys is to the immediate right of the gym field, girls is to the immediate right of that. Emily, you will be studying with Mr Remora in Room One, while Liam, you will be with Ms Bass in Room Two.” 

“We can remember that, thank you.” Klaus said. 

“Were you told the rules of the school before you transferred?” 

“We are aware.” Violet sighed, remembering the list she’d managed to slip from the desk. “And we look forward to your recital tonight.” 

“You should! It’ll be six hours of pure delight.” 

“Absolutely.” Klaus nodded. “Thank you, Vice Principal, we’ll head to our dorms now.” 

“Yes. Liam, you will be rooming with…” Nero looked down at the list in front of him, as if he had no idea what student he was talking about. “Chase… something-or-other, I’m sure he’ll tell you. Emily, you will be rooming with Carmelita Spats.” 

Fuck. Roommates. Well, they’d figure something out. “Thank you, sir.” Violet said. “We’ll head out now, so you may get back to practicing.” 

“Yes, do.” 

Nero pulled out his violin as the children left, their plastic smiles falling once their backs were turned. They could hear his horrible playing even after they closed the door, and Violet said, “Do you remember what Father said, that one time we spent your birthday sleeping in the orchestra pit?” 

Klaus nodded, and then recited, “Children, there is no worse sound in the world than somebody who cannot play the violin who insists on doing so anyway.” 

“We’re skipping that recital.” 

“Hell yeah.” 

“Let’s check on Sunny.” 

“Good idea.” 

They knelt by the edge of the hall, and Klaus pulled his bag off, flipping it open. “How tight are you in there, sunshine?” 

Sunny glanced up at him, huffing a little. She did not like the fact she had to hide, as Prufrock did not admit toddlers. “Amygdala,” she said, which meant something akin to, “It’s quite claustrophobic.” 

“Well, you’re alive. And you can keep biting that can.” Violet sighed. “Just stay quiet, okay? We’ll find out which of our roommates is cooler and then let you out.” 

“Ugh.” Sunny groaned. 

“It’s this or live in that weird shack by the cafeteria.” Klaus said, before closing his bag again. 

The siblings stood up, and Violet said, “Alright, to the dorms. We’ll find our way there, then… should we skip class? Our teachers won’t actually have our names down for attendance.” 

“Yeah, fuck that.” 

“Fuck that.” 

They went to Violet’s dorm first, managing to find the right room after swiping some fruit from some bowls in the hall and occasionally stuffing something small and expensive-looking into their jacket pockets. Violet slid the door open, walking in and making a face. “This room’s awful.” 

“Those windows don’t seem to lock.” Klaus observed, shaking his head. 

“Closet is fucking tiny.” Violet said. “Where are you supposed to hide?” 

Klaus knelt by a bed, flipping the blanket up. “No room under here.” 

“These plants look fake.” Violet moved to the sidetable, lifting a leaf. “Oh, yeah. Plastic. Wonder what this dirt is made of.” She stuck a hand in. “Oh my God, Klaus, I think this is coffee.” 

“Holy shit.” Klaus started to giggle. “That sounds like a dream, though. Secret coffee.” 

“You don’t like coffee.” 

“Yeah but it’s still fun. Secret coffee.” 

“Secret coffee.” Violet giggled. 

Before they could do more, the door opened, and a girl skipped in. She stopped dead in her tracks, her tap shoes slamming onto the ground. 

“What are you cakesniffers doing in my room?” 

Violet sighed, sharing a glance with Klaus, the two of them considering. Then she smiled and turned back to the girl- she looked about the same age as her brother. “Hello. I’m Emily Sonnenfeld, I’m your new roommate.” 

“No!” the girl dropped her bright schoolbag on the ground and then stomped in frustration. “I don’t need a roommate! And I need the second bed for mid-day naps! What the hell? I told Vice Principal Nero that I didn’t need anyone else!” 

Violet and Klaus both watched each other as she continued to rant, silently communicating different ideas. Finally, Violet walked in front of the girl and said, “Carmelita, right?” 

“Of course. Only the smartest, prettiest, humblest girl in the whole wide school.” 

“I’m sure you’re right about that.” Violet smiled. “Now, listen. You’ve made it clear you don’t want a roommate.” 

“Uh, yeah! I’m going to go straight to Vice-” 

“No need for that.” Violet smiled, and patted her on the shoulder. “Listen, that’ll just be a whole thing, he’ll have to rearrange shit, and that gives him less time to practice the violin. He gets so angry when he’s interrupted.” 

Carmelita paused, something flashing across her face, and then she crossed her arms and huffed. “But I don’t want you here!” 

“Well, how about a deal?” Violet pulled her hair back, and smiled down at her. “It turns out, I would much prefer to room with my brother Liam. We don’t like being separated, because we know too many secrets about each other. So how about you let me know where we can find an empty room, and I pretend we’re roommates so none of us get in trouble?” 

Carmelita narrowed her eyes, looking the girl up and down. Then she said, “You won’t bother me?” 

“Only if you bother me first.” 

“Deal, Em. Follow me, there’s an empty room near the storage closet. Drafty, but I sometimes practice dance in there. Guess I can practice in here instead.” 

“Don’t worry, Carm, sweetie.” Violet smiled, before smirking at Klaus. “We’re not staying long.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“We’re only here til our parents are back from their trip. Then we’re out of your hair.” 

“Good. Less cakesniffers in this school.” 

“What does ‘cakesniffer’ mean?” Klaus asked. 

“It means you’re stupid cakesniffers.” Carmelita huffed. Then she marched out of the room and said, “It’s this way, come on.” 

“I don’t think ‘cakesniffers’ is a compliment.” Klaus muttered. 

“Yeah, no shit.” 

Carmelita shoved them towards the empty room and then skipped back to her room, grumbling about stupid new kids. Violet strolled in, smiling at the empty space; a few pillows and blankets were shoved into the corner, and there were some dark blinds over the window, but aside from that, the room was bare. 

“We can sleep right here, by the door.” Violet said, swishing her foot across the space she indicated. “I can block it. As for the window…” she pulled her ribbon out, tying her hair back excitedly. “I can make us a break-in alarm. A string and a bell, shouldn’t be too hard. We’ll have knives under our pillows if someone gets in- not you, Sunny, you’ll sleep inbetween us.” 

Klaus was pulling the infant from his backpack, finally releasing her onto the floor. She huffed and crawled over to the window, biting on the edge of a blind. 

Violet pulled on her ribbon and said, “I saw a stairwell to the roof. We can camp out there and watch for our parents- or, well, other pursuers. There looked like a library building, Klaus, so you can swipe books from there to keep you and Sunny entertained.” 

“What about you?” 

“I’ll find something to invent, don’t worry. Or I can just be the one keeping watch.” 

“No, you’re gonna swap out with us cause we’re a family and we work together.” 

“No, we’re a family and I’m in charge.” 

“Violet, come on-” 

“Gac!” Sunny shouted, pointing out the window. 

Violet ran over, lifting up her sister and immediately retreating a few steps. Klaus ran to the window, lifting up the blinds to see what Sunny had noticed. 

“There’s a couple kids.” he said. “They’re… going towards that old shack. Probably won’t stay long.” 

“That reminds me, what do you think’s in there?” 

Klaus shrugged. “Supplies?” 

“Why don’t we find out?” Violet slid Sunny onto the floor. 

“Violet, come on-” 

“We wanna know every inch of this place, right? And if there’s weapons in there, we wanna know about it.” 

“What sorta school would store weapons-” 

“Don’t you remember what Mother said? Anything could be a weapon. And if they’ve got supplies- shovels, wrenches, odd tools-” 

“Alright, I get it.” 

“Sunshine, stay here.” Violet said, looking over at her sister. “Guard our shit. If someone comes in, either hide in the pile of blankets or bite their toes off.” 

Sunny saluted her. “Aye-aye!” 

“Should we really leave her-” 

“We can’t take her outside. Do you want to stay with her while I investigate?” 

Klaus hesitated, looking between his sisters. Sunny looked up at him and said, “Nef,” meaning something like, “I’ll be fine, Klaus. I’ll scream if I need help, you’re only a few feet away.” 

“If you’re sure-” 

“Ye!” 

“Okay… be careful.” 

Sunny nodded, and Violet opened the window, jumping out. “Come on, Klaus.” 

He followed her out, sliding to the ground while she waited for him, bouncing on her feet. When he landed, she said, “Hey, race you to the shack.” 

“We’re not babies, Violet.” 

“Yeah, but-” 

“Readysetgo!” 

Klaus laughed and took off, and Violet froze in shock and indignation a moment, before shouting, “You little cheater, get back here!” 

She tore across the lawn, trying to catch up to his head start. Klaus was never the most athletic Baudelaire, but even he could run pretty well and pretty fast, mainly due to their parents making sure all their kids could survive well enough alone. Still, Violet managed to catch up just before they reached the shack, though she did smile and slow herself a little so Klaus could hit the side. It creaked slightly, and he laughed. “I win!” 

“Only cause you cheated.” 

“It’s not cheating, it’s strategy.” 

“You little shit.” 

“Hey, you owe me, I got hypnotized.” 

“Fine, fine, you win. Now let’s see what we’ve got in here-” 

Violet opened the shack door, and then stared, absolutely astonished. 

The shack had fungus dripping from the ceiling, as well as crabs scuttling across the floor. It also had two piles of hay, upon which were sitting the two kids who’d passed by before. A small photo was tacked to the wall, looking like it’d been clipped from a newspaper, and schoolbags were tossed haphazardly onto the floor. The shack barely looked big enough for both children, who were now sitting up and staring in bewilderment at the girl standing in front of them. 

Violet stared a moment, and then said, “Uh, Klaus? I think this is a dorm.” 

“What?” Klaus looked in the doorway, and then stepped back. “What the fuck? Is this some kind of… what was that movie we saw? Where the bad kids had to sleep in the creepy basement?” 

“This isn’t a basement, Klaus, it’s a health and safety hazard.” 

“Excuse me?” the boy said, sitting up straighter and rubbing his eyes. “Who are you?” 

“New kids.” Violet sighed, leaning against the doorway. “What are you doing in this deathtrap?” 

“It’s our shack.” the girl said. 

“What do you mean, it’s ‘your shack?’” 

“We mean it’s the Orphans Shack and we have to live here.” 

“What the actual shit?” 

“Okay, listen,” Klaus said, stepping away from the doorway. “Get out here. We can’t talk to you while you’re sitting in there.” 

Carefully, the two students walked out, very confused. Violet bit her lip to keep from asking why they left their schoolbags in there, and instead slammed the door and said, “Okay, explain. What’s this shit?” 

“Who the hell are you?” the girl snapped. 

“Emily and Liam Sonnenfeld.” Violet said, gesturing between them. 

“You just called him ‘Klaus.’” the boy said. 

Violet shut her eyes, stifling a groan, while Klaus started rapidfire swearing under his breath. 

“Look. Tell us who you are and about your shack, and we’ll tell you our shit, okay?” Klaus said. 

The two students glanced at each other; in the light, the Baudelaires realized that they must be siblings, as they were pretty much identical, the only difference being the girl having longer hair and the boy having a green notebook instead of a black in his pocket. Eventually, the girl turned back to them and said, “Isadora Quagmire. This is my brother, Duncan. We’re in the Orphans Shack because we’re orphans.” 

“I don’t follow.” Violet said. 

“Your parent or legal guardian needs to sign a permission slip for you to sleep in the dorms.” Duncan said, glaring at the ground. “And we don’t have parents, and the executor of our parents’ estate dumped us here cause orphans aren’t In, so we have to sleep out here.” 

“Well that is absolute pigshit.” Violet said. She kicked the side of the shack and said, “There’s plenty of empty rooms in the dorms.” 

“There is?” Isadora asked, a spark of anger in her eyes. 

“Yeah.” Violet shrugged. “We just found an empty room to ourselves so we don’t have to split up.” 

“Son of a…” Duncan muttered. 

“I’m going to kill Nero.” Isadora said. “That bastard’s days are at their end / He won’t last til next weekend.” 

Klaus hesitated, and then tugged Violet’s sleeve. Let me try something. “You said you were orphans?” 

“Yeah.” Isadora sighed. 

She fell silent, so Duncan was the one who eventually said, “We lost our parents in a terrible fire.” 

Violet and Klaus exchanged a look. “VFD bullshit?” Violet said. 

“VFD bullshit.” 

“You guys say the word ‘shit’ a lot.” Duncan noted. 

“What’s VFD?” Isadora asked. 

“Long story.” 

Isadora hesitated, then reached into her pocket, and pulled something out. “Does it have something to do with this?” 

She held out, to their astonishment, half of a VFD spyglass. The Eye was etched into the front, and she pointed to it, saying, “Those initials are kinda… there.” 

Violet and Klaus exchanged a look. “Do you think-” 

“It was the last place our parents told us to go.” 

“Makes sense to gather possible recruits together.” 

“Should we lead a jailbreak?” 

“That’ll just get them grabbed faster. Not everyone can last on the streets, and if their parents-” 

“And they leave orphans outside where they can get grabbed.” 

“We’re going to have to do double lookout.” 

“No sleep for us, then.” 

“Our main goal is to protect Sunny. And-” 

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Isadora snapped. 

The Baudelaires paused, having been lost in their plans. They turned back, scanning the kids over. 

“Definite targets.” Violet said. 

“Definite.” 

“So we’re gonna wanna jailbreak them first.” 

“Yeah, we can do that.” 

“Come with us, Quagmires.” Violet said, gesturing for them to follow. “You can sleep in our dorm. The more the merrier.” 

“Excuse me, what?” Duncan said. 

“We’ll explain in there.” Klaus said. “Get your bags and your stuff.” 

“What the-” 

“We’ll explain everything there.” Violet said. She reached out, putting a hand on Isadora’s shoulder. “Promise. But you’re going to have to come with us. Also, you’re going to have to not talk to anyone about us at all.” 

“What?” 

“Hurry up.” 

The Quagmires glanced at each other, and then Duncan said, “Can we trust you?” 

Klaus, in response, pulled Josephine’s spyglass from his jacket pocket. 

The Quagmires stared at it, and then Isadora said, “I’ll get our bags.” 

“So, let me get this straight.” Duncan said. 

He flipped his commonplace book back a page or two, where’d he’d taken notes on the Baudelaires’ explanation. The children had split the pile of blankets and pillows between each other and now had them all in a circle, sitting at the edge to face each other. Sunny, who had taken an immediate shine to the newcomers, had crawled onto Isadora’s lap and now was chewing on her jacket. Thankfully, Isadora didn’t seem to mind, and in fact was currently fixing Sunny’s ponytail. Violet rocked back-and-forth slightly, hugging her bag, while Klaus fiddled with his shirt and glanced between the Quagmires. 

“Oh, buddy,” Violet sighed, “You’re not getting anything straight with us.” 

“Same.” Isadora smirked. 

“So, your parents were in a cult that has these spyglasses. So, apparently, that means our parents were in the cult, too.” 

“Seems like it.” 

“They tried to leave and got framed for a crime- except they did commit the crime so it wasn’t framing, technically.” 

“Technically.” Klaus nodded. 

“You all have been on the run your whole lives, except now your parents were kidnapped by this Olaf guy, and he wants to kidnap you so he can torture and kill you in front of your parents.” 

“Pretty much.” 

“And you’ve been jumping from place-to-place waiting for them to escape on their own, and you forged papers to get in here and hide out.” 

“That’s it.” 

“Olaf and his troupe can and will kill anyone near you.” 

“Yeah.” 

“So we’re in danger.” Isadora said. 

“Well, yeah.” Klaus said. “Which is an issue. But consider, would we rather keep you near us until we can find out how to break you outta here, or leave you alone in a shack to inevitably get kidnapped by a cult?” 

“That does seem reasonable.” Duncan said. 

“No, it doesn’t!” Isadora said. “Duncan, I’d rather not be hunted by a psycho!” 

“And I’d rather not be grabbed a cult.” 

“Look, maybe- maybe it’s different, if Mother and Father were there-” 

“Would explain why they were gone all the time.” 

“Seriously? You’re going to doubt them?” 

“I’m not going to join a cult just because of them, no!” 

“And I’m not losing another brother!” 

Violet and Klaus scooted back, a little startled. Sunny paused her biting, staring up at Isadora in confusion. Duncan gasped a little, and then he slid his commonplace book into his pocket, fighting back tears. 

“Bro?” Sunny asked. 

Isadora swallowed, taking slow breaths and trying to calm herself down. Then she nodded. “We- we’re triplets.” 

“Our brother, Quigley, died in the fire.” Duncan said. 

Violet’s eyes widened in sympathy, and then she moved over, taking Duncan’s hand. “I’m so sorry.” 

“That must be horrible.” Klaus said. He looked over at Sunny, who crawled off of Isadora’s lap and over to him, lifting her arms so he could pick her up. He did, cradling her close. “I can’t imagine losing a sibling.” 

“It’s- it’s bad enough being separated from our family.” Violet shivered. “But… dead…” 

Isadora stared hard at the ground, and Duncan slowly leaned over, putting his head on Violet’s shoulder. She wrapped an arm around him, and Klaus scooted over to Isadora, holding out his hand for her. 

Isadora, however, said, “You recognized we were VFD before you saw the spyglass. It was when we said our house burned down.” 

Klaus hesitated. “Uh-” 

“Did the fire- did that have something to do with it?” Isadora looked over at him, pleading with her eyes. “What about the fire tipped you off?” 

Klaus and Violet exchanged another look. Be careful. “Houses burning down and orphaning children are… common. In VFD.” Violet said. 

“When Firestarters find out where Volunteers live.” Klaus said. “Or… or in some, some extreme cases… when Volunteers won’t give up their children…” 

Duncan and Isadora looked up sharply, and then stared at each other. “So…” Isadora said, her voice breaking, “So it was their fault?” 

“I- it’s probable-” 

“Then they could kill Duncan, too.” Isadora shivered. 

“Well, I mean-” Violet stumbled. “Probably not intentionally, you know? But like- I won’t lie-” 

“Why did you tell us this?” Isadora looked sharply at her. “Why would you tell us all of this? Why do you trust us?” 

Violet opened her mouth to answer, and then paused. Why had she trusted them so quickly? Did she just want a connection? Was she just full of righteous fury at seeing them in a shack? Was she just so desperate to talk to somebody about what was going on…? 

She looked up at them again, and then her eyes flickered to the half-spyglass in Isadora’s hands, and then she realized. 

“I guess I just would rather have you with us,” she said, “Then leave you alone to suffer with no preparation. I…” 

She looked to Klaus for help, and he nodded, understanding. He edged Sunny off of his lap, and then leaned forwards, grabbing a hand from each triplet. 

“Our Mother told us once,” he said, “That if you’re in danger, it’s better to know you are so you can prepare. If you don’t know, then it hits you by surprise. It might be a better buildup, because you’re not living in fear, but then when it happens, you have less a chance of getting out alive. And the most important thing is to stay alive. Live to fight another day, because…” 

“Spero.” Sunny said. 

Klaus smiled, and translated. “Because if you live another day, that day might be the one that makes things better.” 

Duncan and Isadora both stared down at his hands, and then Duncan started to cry, followed quickly by his sister. 

“Besides,” Violet added, hoping to lighten the mood, “I’d rather you be in here than dying in a shack.” 

“Yeah.” Isadora nodded, smiling slightly as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Yeah, I- I would’ve done the same- the same thing-” 

“Quigley would’ve done the same, too.” Duncan muttered. 

Violet held out her arms, and everyone scrambled into a group hug.

[ainaaaaah]

Existential Isolation

Existential-Humanistic Psychology is my favorite perspective about the theories of the mind. It’s one where I plan to specialize on. One thing that existentialists says is that, we are all alone. We can have family and friends, but the end of it, the reality is, we are alone. It’s sad but it’s true. And now, more than ever, do I feel its reality.

.

I am nobody’s best friend. I have a few group of really good friends, but I don’t think I am anyone’s best friend. Even when I asked my boyfriend who his best friend is, he told me it’s his mother. Considering that I am with him every single day, that spoke volume. I am vulnerable to people. I speak my mind, I don’t filter my words, I am loud and happy when I am, but I’m also dark and exhausting when I am. I think that scares people. It reveals how much they really want you.

.

I transferred from many different grade school, so I didn’t really have childhood friends. Most people say that high school is the best part of their lives, not so with me. It started out really good, but it ended very bitterly. I think that hurt me more than it completed me. It was not all bad though. I have friends from that time until now, two of them in particular. But I think that relationship is a group thing, more than a personal one.

.

I had a best friend in college. It was a really good relationship. Everyone knows we belonged with each other. We always partner up in every activity. I know her family, she knows mine. There is absolute trust and comfort between us. She is, I think, my first best friend. But after graduation, I never heard anything from her again. Not even a single message. When the projects are done, I was easily disposed. It would have been easier if we fought over something but we didn’t.

.

I had another really really close friend in church. He knows me so well. He knows my mood, my likes and dislikes. We are, as I call it, in the same wavelength. I really treasure that friendship. I fought for him against many people who judges him harshly or treats him unfairly. I once fought my mother’s lover and threatened him to freaking disappear from our life because he abused him. I am on his side, always. Then one day, he told me that he doesn’t want to be with my anymore. He doesn’t want to hang out. He didn’t talk to me anymore. I was deeply pained by that. I was angry at him, yes. But more than that, I felt betrayed. I cried over him in therapy. One day, our common friends set us up for a conversation, for closure and forgiveness. It’s weird. Because once you had that conversation, nobody talks about the aftermath. Yes I forgave him and I knew I wanted to continue being friends with him but... does anybody know how much trauma meant? How you’re just supposed to accept and forgive because you still love the person who gave you pain? Why do we accept the stabs just because we love the people holding the knife?

.

Let’s not even begin to talk about my family. I hear people say, you can’t use your experience and your family as an excuse of why you are the way you are. I believed that so much I started scolding myself for even thinking that that is a valid explanation of the why I am. Frankly, maybe the people telling those things just doesn’t have an idea how to deal with the trauma your own family gave you and instead of helping you heal from them, they just ask you to face it and numb it. Do you know what it feels to have something that hurts you alot but you cannot and shouldn’t remove from you?

I have a lot of anger for my family. It’s difficult to admit that because people expects you to love your own family. Now let me tell you this. My family are the first people who abandoned me. Let’s talk about how my father didn’t even fought for a chance to know me or for me to know his family. I don’t even know what my half-sibling’s names are. I feel disconnected with him to the point that I wouldn’t even consider him walk me down the aisle. Let’s talk about my stepfather. Whom I loved so much but sexually assaulted me. Oh let’s talk about how much I still wanted him in the family even after that. How much I begged for him to come back when he left us even after what he did to me. 

Let’s talk about my mother. Do you know how easily she can just trashily talk to me? Do you know how she just threatens me to get out of the house when things don’t go her way? Do you know how she can just threaten to punch me in the face in front of her employees because we fought over some paper? Let’s talk about how she just covers up her motherhood by throwing us money. Let’s talk about how much she disrespects us by parading her string of boyfriends in our own home. Let’s talk about how easy it is for her to just discard me when I did her wrong. 

.

Oh yeah, let’s remember the time someone stood up as a father to me, only to tell me later on, in my face, that he is so disappointed with me. Or that time where my boyfriend’s sister blocked me because of the effect she think I has with her brother. 

.

How can you experience all this and still be blamed for who you are as if you have a control over this? How can people be mad at me, instead of the things that happened to me?

.

Now let’s talk about one more thing that people throw at me when I talk about this. I’m a Chrisitan. People tell me, you can’t find what you’re looking for in people, you can only find that in God. Yes, I believe that to be 100% true. And If not with the reality of my relationship with God, I may have long been lost to suicide. Here’s the thing, though. I think God, while satisfying us, didn’t intend for us to be just after Him and not need relationships. Relationships are very important with God, and although we find our security as a person in Him, we all still long to be loved and valued. If it isn’t so, then churches and families shouldn’t have been in God’s vocabulary. 

.

Existential isolation. I’m beginning to think that aloneness is something good - peaceful, even. Maybe it’s true, that at the end of the day, it’s just you --- or I’m just surrounded by selfish people. Here’s the thing though. Very recently, someone told me that I’m the problem. That hurt me in many different levels, but mostly because of the realization that this person doesn’t understand my pain. He spoke louder, though. He made sure I heard him loud and clear - I’m the problem. He even went beyond and identified some of my most painful memories I wrote above as caused by who I am. He even blamed me for how cruel he was at that moment, telling me that I changed him into a worse person. The worst thing he said was, how could I expect someone to propose to me when... I’m me? I was so broken by the disgust on that question, and instead of seeing clearly how this person sees me, I asked him what’s the response he want from me. I spoke in a very soft manner, in the way he wanted. Sure enough, he responded kinder. I was right, I need to behave well if I am to be valued and respected.

.

One of the existential therapist I like wrote this: "No relationship can eliminate existential isolation, but aloneness can be shared in such a way that love compensates for its pain" --- (Yalom, 2011)

.

Unfortunately, I haven’t found that kind of love yet. Not in the past, not in the present. But I hope in the future, I will. I hope to become someone who won’t bleed over the pain of the past anymore. I hope someday to become somebody people will be proud of. I hope to be someone not dictated by my experiences, so I wouldn’t be hurting people anymore. I hope to heal. Someday, I will. But tonight, tonight is for grieving. Tonight, I cry for the Ainah who heard the footsteps of people she loved walk away from her. Tonight, I cry for the Ainah who hates herself for hurting for those pain. Tonight, I cry for the Ainah felt like she had to perform to be kept. Tonight, I cry for the Ainah who hasn’t seen eyes that sees her. Tonight, I cry for the Ainah who didn’t receive grace from people around her.

[ertrunkenerwassergeist]

Born Into the Wilds - 07. Moot

I just remembered that I didn’t put the latest chapter here on tumblr. So here it is and also a Link to AO3. Thank you @lightsaberwieldingdalek for your help!

In which Nyx parkours aound Little Galahd and old people debate while everybody else watches.

Featuring: hunting reporters, Nyx' recklessnes, politics, old people with agendas, family drama in the background, Ulric clan history, Nyx' lack of self worth, magic, and did I mention politics?

Warnings: mentions of war, flight and death

Foreign words:

sinehär gisdrauht = Elder Storyteller cünaniu = a moot, basically a publilc gathering to debate stuff. Held by selected Elders and has to be an odd number druhm = edible root that looks like a black carrot and tastes a bit like hazelnut and is sweet like beetroot, can be used in teas, be roasted or cooked maneth = mother, stepmother; affectionate term oirkar = chief, clan head; lit.: leading person; a title Galahkari = people of Galahd ahtri = spirit; umbrella term for everything from actual nature spirits to the presence of their ancestors makti-oir = war chief, commander-in-chief, warlord; lit.: leading hunter kohna = swearword; along the lines of shit buhgil = term of endearment for children; lit.: sprout (noun)

Nyx scaled the outer wall of the concrete building with all the grace of a disgruntled cat. Muttering obscene curses under his breath, he swung himself over the railing and landed on the flat roof in a crouch with nary a sound.

The day had started so well. Considering the circumstances, that is.

It had been an absolute disaster.

After being thrown out of bed by Libertus and swinging by Pelna's place to find out what the realms of Pitioss was going on, sinehär gisdrauht Istoria Patientia had come by personally to 'invite' him to a cünaniu that was to happen this afternoon. It had been shortly after lunch, Pelna, Libertus, Luche and Axis had to attend a spontaneous training exercise and so hadn't been there. Nyx himself was still on medical leave and so Tethys had invited him to stay.

Greetings had been exchanged. Istoria sat at the table, a steaming cup of the traditional tea of welcome in front of her. The smell of druhm roots, pepper, cardamom, liquorice and honey made Nyx think back to his sister's first tries that had been overly strong and sweet. Barely eight, she had been so proud of her achievement that neither his mother nor him had uttered anything but compliments. That day had been full of Selena's bright laughter.

Istoria took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “You have a skilled hand for brewing tea, Tethys of Clan Najad.”

“Thank you, Sinehär Patientia. My maneth taught me; her teas were said to be the best,” demurred Tethys, her own cup between her hands and a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The short exchange startled Nyx out of his childhood reverie. Silently reprimanding himself for his lapse in attention, he forced the image of a smiling and laughing Selena from his mind. The painful stab of regret he felt in his heart every time he thought of her, had never gotten easier to bear over the years.

“For which occasion do you honour my family with your visit, sinehär?” asked the younger woman.

“To my regret it's not a member of your family I came to meet,” Istoria said. Her eyes were firmly set on Nyx who dearly wished he could vanish into the ground at that very moment. “A cünaniu has been called for this afternoon and Oirkar Ulric has been invited to speak among us.”

Her body language, the set of her jaw and the tone of her voice made it clear what kind of invitation it was. Should he not show up at the gathering he would lose what standing he had within the Galahkari of Insomnia. Loathe as he was to admit it, if he didn't have his standing as the head of an old and respected clan, much of the shit he did get himself into wouldn't end as well as it normally did.

Beneath the sharp eyes of both women in the room, Istoria's giving nothing away and Tethys' silently promising to get an explanation out of him, he bowed his head in acceptance.

“I will be there, to speak and to listen,” he said.

“Good,” nodded the old woman. “Now, I don't care how you do it, but get those reporters out of Little Galahd as fast as you can. They're more of a nuisance than evergrow weed.”

“Of course, sinehär,” muttered Nyx, internally wincing. He'd had to turn off his phone after the ninth call from one reporter or other. He knew it wouldn't help any in the long run, but for now he could actually talk to someone without being interrupted every five minutes. Maybe he should invest into a new number. Though he had no idea how to do what the Elder had asked of him.

“The cünaniu will be held by the community fire at exactly 4pm. I trust you know the etiquette of an invited speaker?”

Nyx nodded again. All Clan Heads had to know; they were most likely the ones to be invited, if someone was. Speak clearly and only when prompted. Any other time an invited speaker wanted to say something they had to take a step forward and wait until they were acknowledged. The surrounding crowd, if there was one, wasn't to be addressed ever. Since this was a formal event the proper titles had to be observed.

They drank the rest of their tea largely in silence, only interrupted by the spare bits of small talk Tethys and Istoria engaged in.

This was not going to be any kind of fun. At all.

Now he crept over the flat roof of an apartment complex in the middle of Little Galahd not too far from the courtyard the Galahkari had chosen as their speaking grounds, with little time remaining and on the run from those damned reporters.

Carefully, he crept over the roof between damp bed sheets that had been hung out to dry. They made his way into a labyrinth that his him quite well and made him feel marginally safer. It was childish, but he couldn't quite help it. He still didn't dare to stand up properly.

If he ever found out who had blabbed, he was getting Luche to do a blood eagle for him. And damn the consequences. The longer he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it must have been the lab technician who talked. He doubted that either King Regis, Shield Amicitia or General Leonis would sabotage the situation like that. Nyx had known from the start that it was a bad idea to consent to a private audience.

At the reminder of that private office and that awful portrait he snarled at the bed sheets drying in the warm air and spit out in an impulsive show of disdain. Ozone burned in his nose and when his fingers brushed one of the sheets the spot started to sizzle.

He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. No, now was not the time to be upset about a portrait depicting the Conqueror King, as justified as it may be. It was just a portrait for ahtrihn sake. The man himself was long dead. It was a cold comfort.

He reached the other end of the roof and glanced down at the street five storeys below him. Not a reporter in sight. Just a few Galahkari making their way to and fro, easily recognizable by the patterns of their clothes.

Thank Enías for making me lose them.

It would have been so embarrassing, if those reporters had managed to follow him all the way here. Nyx had probably lost them somewhere around the the narrow streets around the marketplace, where they had made such a ruckus that some pedestrians had looked close to causing bodily harm. Well, most Lucians had a talent for that, so it wasn't anything new. The point was he had finally lost them.

Furrowing his brow in consideration he glanced down at the street again. It wasn't far towards the court yard where the community fire was, now. Should he risk it?

Scoffing at himself – he wasn't scared of a few reporters, damn it – he made his way down, jumping from windowsill to windowsill as if they were the branches of a tree made out of concrete.

Somebody yelped in surprise and Nyx winked at a woman standing by the windowsill he was using as a temporary perch, a wide and playful grin on his face. He jumped the last two storeys down followed by a slew of obscene curses. People turned around to see what was going on, but as soon as they recognized him they nodded in greeting and went back to their own business.

Heh, he still got it.

His grin transformed into a satisfied one as he flounced off towards the community fire.

The spark in his bones rumbled like a giant satisfied cat.

After running all over Little Galahd – technically it was just the market place and a few streets, but there wasn't anybody present to refute his claim, so there – he was nearly late. There were more people present in the courtyard than he had expected. Then again, considering the topic to be discussed it honestly wasn't too surprising.

Nyx saw quite a few friends and closer acquaintances in the mingling crown, but didn't have the time for more than a nod in greeting. Luche, Axis, Pelna, Crowe and Libertus were part of the training exercise the Glaive was scheduled to do today, Tredd and Sonitus were there, however, along with Pelna's eldest niece Ker. Here and there he could see other members of the Glaive that were on leave. Then there were Ariadne and Archyll so close to the fire barrel, it was nearly inappropriate.

Nyx made a face and acted as if he hadn't seen them, a longing tug in his gut. He tried to shake it off. Both of them had made it quite clear when he had joined the Kingsglaive that he wasn't welcome with them any longer.

Straight backed and head held high he stepped into the space the sinehäri had left for him. Right between Istoria and Eriq. The old willowy man stared at him with icy eyes. His remaining hair was carefully braided into a neat braid full of colourful beads, that reached his chest.

Nyx crossed his wrists next to his left hip in greeting deference. He didn't say a word, as it wasn't his place to speak first. The five sinehäri in the circle touched their chests, right over the heart, with the back of their hands in the acknowledgement.

All around them the crowd grew silent.

Istoria was the first to speak, as she was the oldest if the five.

“Welcome to the open fire. May the flames be witness to what is spoken and keep the knowledge until the ashes of the world are washed away.” She spoke the traditional greeting in the oldest tongue they remembered. Then she turned to him. “Be welcome as a guest in our midst, Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric, that you may speak and be heard.”

“May the flames be witness to my words and prove them to be true,” Nyx replied, the old words heavy on his tongue, his accent a heavy drawl.

It didn't happen all too often that one not an elder or a clan head involved in the governing of the Galahkari was invited to speak in a cünaniu.

“We have gathered here today,” Istoria continued in modern Hadnissa, “ to deliberate on the recent development concerning Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric and King Regis of the Lucis Caelum line.”

She used the Lucian word for 'king' since technically Hadnissa didn't have an equivalent word for the title. There were a few that came close, but like all titles in Galahd they had to be earned and the Lucian king most certainly hadn't done that.

“Now tell us in detail what led to the articles this morning and those Lucians crawling all over the place,” commanded Eriq more terse than necessary.

Istoria cast the man a stern glance. Nyx kept his face carefully neutral as all eyes trained on him.

He started his tale with what he could tell of his last mission without going against the King's orders. It was moments like these Nyx hated the careful balancing act he had to practice due to his debt to the man.

The sinehäri kept their silence until his tale ended, even if Eriq and Elenia looked like they dearly wanted to interrupt him more than once. The only thing holding them back was the fact that one wasn't to interrupt a speaking party, if one didn't want to be excluded. After Nyx had finished his recounting, having made it as detailed as he could manage, the silence hung heavily between them for a few heartbeats.

“This is an opportunity we cannot let go to waste.”

All eyes turned towards Leonid. The man was the youngest member of the cünaniu, having reached the appropriate age only three years ago. All other remaining members had been a part of it since before Galahd had fallen.

“What do you propose we do, Sinehär Leonid of the Colophon?” asked Elenia, her voice cold and sharp.

The lower right side of her face looked like the skin had melted and formed into into a misshapen mass. The mark travelled down her throat in sprinkles and vanished under one of the colourful scarves she always wore. Sometimes her right arm twitched without her permission. Those were souvenirs the Nifs had left her with during the initial attack. Since then she was against anything to do with Lucis or Niflheim.

The youngest of the five Elders returned her gaze evenly. “I propose we play into their expectations. Lucis doesn't recognize a country or ethnic group without them having a clear leader to negotiate with. I think we will all agree when I say that's not something we have. We could make Oirkar Ulric our representative, so to speak.”

“So he would be what? Our... king?” Eriq practically spat the Lucian word in front of his feet like it was a curse.

Nyx suppressed a flinch. His fingernails dug painfully into the palms of his hands. He swallowed down the words burning on his tongue and reminded himself not to speak. From where he stood he could see parts of the crowd. It was utterly silent for a crowd this big. He could make out worried faces, angry ones, neutral and confused ones. It was a pretty mixed bag. Ker had moved into the first row of the spectators and grinned at him when she saw him looking.

“I'm saying that, if we were recognized as an autonomous people, we would have rights. Family members of dead Kingsglaives wouldn't lose their homes, we would have the right to open our own schools to educate our children in our ways, just to name a few. Or traditions exist because they saved our lives, now it's time we add to them.”

Elenia stared at Leonid with distaste burning in her eyes. “I won't consent to changing our traditions because Lucis demands it!”

“Traditions have been altered or added to before. Lucians have been the catalyst of that for many times. As a people it is our most sacred duty to remember what others forget. It is a lapse in our duty that it took us so long to realize the true depths of Lucian ignorance.” Here Istoria nodded towards Nyx in reference to his tale about the private audience. “We cannot let ourselves be dragged down into the same pit of forgetfulness. For that we need to teach and to be able to teach, we need the Lucians cooperation while we reside in their city.”

“You want to teach Lucians?” Elenia's scandalized cry caused a wave of silent unrest within the crowd.

“No,” said Istoria decidedly.

Her hard tone took Nyx aback. Eriq snorted and muttered something under his breath Nyx couldn't quite make out.

“You know how difficult it has been to take the children on their First Hunts, Sinehär Elenia of Clan Dala. It will only get even more so as time goes on. Something needs to happen,” intervened Demetri Arra. Until now the man had been silent, listening carefully. “Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric, please tell us your opinion on why exactly the Lucians are convinced of you being of higher blood.”

Nyx didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. Hadn't he already done that at the beginning? Nonetheless he he opened his mouth without complaint and told them again.

“It's my ability as a mage, sinehäri. The Lucians are convinced that independent magic is only possible within two family lines in this world. The Lucis Caelums of Lucis and the Fleurets of Tenebrae. Everybody else showing magic that hasn't been gifted by them, must therefore be either of their blood or a line of higher blood blessed by their Astrals.”

All five Elders around him made various faces of distaste. Elenia's looked like a mask made out of wax due to her scar.

“What do you think they expect from you, Oirkar?” asked Demetri before anybody else could say anything. It was probably better that way.

Nyx had to pause for a second. A sense of anticipation built in the air, he didn't want to ponder. He swallowed dryly and started slowly: “I... I think the King doesn't really know, himself. For him it appears to be mainly about family. Beyond that... This has gone into a direction that cannot be predicted in its entirety. If I had to guess, I would at least be a more specific target than a whole ethnic group.”

“I think we should work with that,” reiterated Leonid into the thoughtful silence.

“I won't accept a king!” bellowed Eriq again.

“We are talking in circles,” stated Istoria in a brisk voice that brooked no argument. “The Oirkar has been put into Lucian focus. We cannot do anything about it - it has happened. What we can do, is use the situation to get what we want. Are we all in agreement about that?”

They all nodded, even if Eriq looked like he had swallowed old seaweed and Elenia like she would rather gut herself. Nyx looked at them, resigned about what he knew was the loss of his relative anonymity. He sighed soundlessly and stepped forward, waiting to be acknowledged. In for the meat, in for the kill.

Istoria looked at him, her expression one of careful consideration. She nodded.

“What about the position of makti-oir?”

Demetri made a sound like he had been punched in the gut. Leonid looked vaguely smug and Istoria had a satisfied tilt to her head. It was like that was what she had wanted to happen all along, thought Nyx.

Damn that woman.

The eyes of Elenia looked like they would fall out of her head and Eriq opened his mouth to say something – not polite, no doubt – before shutting it again with a clicking noise. A thoughtful expression made its way onto his face.

“Sinehär gisdrauht, how many members of Clan Ulric have held that position?” he asked, tugging at his beaded braid. His eyes never left Nyx who was silently cursing himself for suggesting this.

The eldest in this circle smiled. “The first was Nikon of Clan Ulric, daughter of Adrastea of Clan Ulric. She became makti-oir in the conflict that drove off the poachers. After her was Oirkar Perses of Clan Ulric, who became makti-oir the day the black sails first clouded the sky. He was the first of three to hold the position during the War of the Black Ships.”

Nyx unwittingly stood a little bit straighter as the woman listed name after name. He could feel hundreds of eyes resting on him. Those were members of his clan. His. For the first time in a long while he could truly appreciate it. His clan. His history. All those stories that had been carefully preserved and told again and again.

Elenia's gaze was still full of that raging fury he had never seen her without, but now there was also a quiet respect. Hers was not the only one.

Demetri nodded thoughtfully after Istoria had ended her impromptu narration. “Does Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric fulfil the requirements?”

Nyx dearly wanted to say no, but he knew that wasn't an option he had left. His people had left. If this was his chance to make things right, to atone for his failures, then he would gladly dedicate his life and his death to it. His people deserved nothing less. Selena and his mother would have deserved nothing less. All the people he had failed.

It was Istoria who spoke again: “On his First Hunt Nyx, then of no name, was blessed by the Queen of the Jungle, Lady of Beasts, the Great Coeurl herself, and now he strides in her shadow. He fed four Clans during the last winter before the war came and led twelve hunting parties through it once it was there, the second to last group to leave Galahd was the one he helped protect and since coming here he has fought to regain our homes, never leaving anyone behind, living or dead.”

The subject of such praise could barely bring himself to listen. This wasn't something he wanted to hear. It wasn't him. Where were his failures? All the people he hadn't been able to save? Those that had starved during that horrible long winter, those the Nifs had killed while he had been right there and not being able to do anything. And so many more. Those that had drowned because they had fallen off the boats during their escape, those the daemons had gotten on their miserable track across the mainland. The hunger and the sickness. All the comrades he had lost while fighting for a nation that didn't want to appreciate their sacrifices.

Nyx blinked as he noticed that the old woman had stopped talking. What had he missed. Kohna, why had he spaced out?

Eriq huffed in irritation. “Do you accept the position as makti-oir?”

Steeling himself, Nyx gazed into the crowd. A tension covered the whole courtyard like a smothering blanket. The air was stifling and hot. Hadn't there been less people when he had last looked? He couldn't say for certain.

He tried to read their faces. Would these people accept him in this position? Would his fellow hunters follow him and trust in his decisions? A heaviness settled around him he wasn't sure he could bear. His eyes caught Tredd's. The redhead stood near the edge next to Sonitus, his face an unreadable mask. For barely a heartbeat they stared at each other and then an expression flitted across Tredd's face. It was gone so fast that Nyx couldn't say what it had been, but the other man raised his chin, having come to a decision, and nodded.

Nyx turned his attention back towards the five sinehäri who were waiting for his decision with varying expressions of patience.

“I accept,” he said loud and clear.

Within seconds the tension in the air evaporated. The crowd surged, waiting for the cünaniu to end so that they could celebrate. They had come one step closer towards leaving this city and going home. Everybody knew hit.

But it wasn't over.

“What shall we do about the Lucians?” asked Leonid, looking pleased and exhausted. “I have said it before, we need someone to press for our interests. With Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric we have somebody who can do it.”

Elenia looked ready to murder the man. “We will not collaborate with the Lucians! Not after everything they did.”

“We won't collaborate with the Lucians,” Leonid shot back. “Think of it as taking what we're due.”

Elenia huffed but didn't say anything else. Nyx was thankful for it. He had honestly enough of old people arguing. Not that he would ever say that out loud; he didn't want to die that badly.

Demetri sighed tiredly. Even now at age 84 he was nearly a head taller then Nyx. With that and the tattoos and scars he had collected over his life, he cut an formidable figure. He spoke little outside of his duties, but his voice was like a booming bass, loud and imposing. “The Lucians should come to us first, if we do this. We must be prepared for it, but we cannot be the ones to ask for an audience with the Lucian King. It would press us into a weaker position than we already have.”

No one seemed overly happy at his last words. But they were true and everybody in the courtyard knew it.

“Are we all in agreement of this?” asked Istoria looking at her peers.

One after the other nodded. Her gaze settled on Nyx who realized that now that he was makti-oir, his voice had true weight within this circle. He nodded also.

“Then we will leave it here.” She raised her voice so that it echoed loud and clear over the heads of the listening crowd. “Let it be known that after Oizys of Clan Pontos who fell as Niflheim covered our land in death and flames, we name Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric as makti-oir. He has been found capable of this responsibility and has accepted it with the fire bearing witness to his words.

We will enter negotiations with the Lucian crown to fight for our tradition and way of life, as we should have done from the beginning. Let this be a lesson for us to not place our pride over our needs. The Astrals couldn't make us bend. A human king won't manage what the false Gods couldn't do. We won't let him.

May the fires bear witness to our words, to what has been said and done today. In the name of the Wooden Throne that seats only Galahd itself, I close this cünaniu.”

For one eternal second the words seemed to fill every space in the courtyard and beyond. The wandering shadows deepened and a cool breeze that carried the sound of rustling leaves and the crashing of the sea against Galahdian shores. A shiver of anticipation travelled down Nyx' spine.

Something was coming.

The fire cracked and sparks flew high, dancing in the air and brining the smell of home. It sounded like the distant roar of a coeurl.

“The hunts are on!”

The cry thundered through the air and broke the spell. The crowd roared, the sound deafening.

Nyx didn't move, too busy trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Then Ker was there, a huge grin on her face. The girl was barely old enough to remember what her home had been like. She hugged him. The force of it pressed the air out of his lungs and teased an airy laugh out of him.

Her face pressed into his shoulder and her body started to shake. She was crying. Worried, he slung his arms around her muscular form and asked: “What's wrong, buhgil?”

Ker shook her head, hiccuped and looked up at him. Her cheeks were covered in tear tracks and a dusty red. She was still smiling, positively brimming with happiness. Nyx barely understood her over the roar of the celebrating crowd.

“Thank you, Nyx. Thank you.”

[fallen-imagine-angel]

A Ski Trip to Remember (Peter Kavinsky x Reader)

Notes: Hey guys, sorry for the hiatus, but I’m back! I went on a trip and had an absolutely terrible writer’s block. But here’s this angsty fluffy Peter K fic for you guys! I love writing for him. Also, though, I’m 3 followers away from 400?? That’s crazy! It wasn’t that long ago that I was celebrating 300! So, as soon as I get 400 followers (make it happen, y’all) I’m going to post what I’ll be doing to celebrate it. Thanks so much, love you guys and all that you do!

Summary: You and your best friend Peter have agreed to go on the annual ski trip together since you both have no date, but what happens when Peter’s filthy ex tries to get back in the picture?

A Ski Trip to Remember

Peter Kavinsky x Reader

Requested?: Nope

Word Count: 4,029 (this is long sorry)

Warnings: angst, fluff, the usual

Peter Kavinsky. Your best friend and neighbor. Not to mention, the love of your life. He doesn’t know that last part, though.

You open your window, which faces Peter’s room, and start to throw rocks at his window. A moment later, the window goes up and you’re met with Peter’s stunning face. Also, he’s shirtless. Of course.

“Hey, Pete.” You grin at him, trying to ignore the blatant fact that your crush is standing across from you, shirtless.

“What are you doing? It’s three in the morning.” Peter laughs, disappearing for a second before emerging again with a makeshift ladder. He throws it out the window and you do the same with your ladder. He climbs out of his room and into yours.

“I just wanted to talk to you. You know, ‘cause I’m your best friend? Besides, you’re still awake, too.” You grin and nudge his shoulder with your own.

“Actually, you woke me up.” He scoffs, nudging your shoulder back.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You’d rather be here with me than sleeping, anyway.” You tease, sitting down on your bed. He follows suit and sits down next to you.

“You’re right. What’d you want to talk about anyway?” He asks, suddenly curious about your motive.

“Well, I got to thinking. The ski trip is, what, only a couple weeks away, right?” You sigh, head falling on his shoulder in dismay.

“Yeah, why?” Peter asks, laying his head on top of yours. You want nothing more than to lace your hand with his, but you refrain from doing so.

“I don’t have anyone to go with, but I want to go so bad! I mean, it’s the trip of the year. I don’t want to miss out just because I don’t have a boyfriend.” You groan, rubbing your hand over your face. You hear Peter chuckle, causing you to jerk your head upward to knock into his face. He just laughs louder because of that.

“Look, if you’re so worried about it, then why don’t we go together? I don’t have a date, either. And it’ll just be….as friends, I guess.” Peter suggests, and you think over it.

Going on the ski trip with your best friend and crush? Two birds with one stone. What if something happens and you both confess your love for each other?

“That sounds fun. We could do that if you want. However, I don’t believe that girls won’t be falling over themselves to ask you to go with them.” You sigh once more, eliciting a groan from Peter.

“Then I’ll turn them all down! You’re my number one girl, after all.” He pulls away from your position, giving you a cheeky smile. You smile and shake your head.

“Pinky promise? Remember, Pete, if you pinky promise then you can never take it back. And if you do, I get to chop off your pinky.” You smirk at him.

“Pinky promise. We’re going to the ski trip together.” He grins widely and hooks pinkies with you. You smile triumphantly.

“Well, I guess all my problems are solved for tonight!” You lay back on your bed happily.

“What about that math test tomorrow? I know you were worried about it. Did you get it down?” Peter lays back on your bed with you.

“Crap.”

~+~

It’s been two weeks exactly, and the ski trip is finally here. Well, it’s tomorrow, to be precise.

“So, how’s my favorite boy doing?” You slide into Peter’s passenger seat, smiling widely.

“Good, actually. Hey, would you mind if Gen rode home with us today? She and I have this huge test to study for.” Peter asks, and your smile immediately drops. He’s been getting closer with Gen lately, and it’s slightly very unnerving to you. He always answers her calls and texts. He’s always there for her when she wants him, and most of the time it’s for stupid stuff. He’s even left you for her a few times, which is when it hit you the hardest.

“What do you have to study for? We have all the same classes, Peter, and the ski trip is tomorrow.” You frown, furrowing your eyebrows at the boy.

“Okay, look, I just want to spend some time alone with her! We’re finally becoming good again, and I think maybe...something might happen. Please?” He pleads, giving you his signature puppy dog look. Your heart drops at his words

“I don’t know why you’re asking me. It’s your car, you can do whatever you want.” You mumble, looking out the window.

“I just want you to be comfortable since you’re my best friend and I always give you a ride home. Thank you, though. You’re the best friend ever!” He squeezes your hand before starting the way to school.

“Pete, we’re still going to the ski trip together tomorrow, right?” You whisper, looking over at him with big eyes.

“Of course!” He nods vigorously, but his mind seems elsewhere. You sigh and look out the window until you get to school. Once you’re there, you hop out immediately and rush inside, not even bothering to wait for Peter.

~+~

After school, you’re shoved into the back of Peter’s car as Gen calls “shotgun!” in her loud, annoying voice. You look over to Peter, half expecting him to argue with her that you always get shotgun, but he’s silent as he climbs into his car. 

You huff in annoyance and get in the back, having to watch in agonizing pain as Gen laces her fingers with his hand that isn’t on the wheel, something you’ve always wanted to do.

“So, how was everyone’s day?” You break the silence, hoping that it’s only awkward for you. You would hate for Peter to think you’re mad at him, although you kinda are.

“Mine was great! How was yours, baby?” Gen purrs, stroking his arm lightly. You almost gag at the sight.

“It was okay.” He admits, shrugging his shoulders lightly. His mind isn’t present, though. He’s definitely daydreaming as he drives. Is that dangerous?

“I bet I could make it better.” She hums, licking her lips slightly and giggling.

“Alright, there is a third passenger here. Just warning you.” You remind them, giving them both a pat on the shoulder.

“Right. Sorry, I forgot you existed for a second. I just get that way with Peter sometimes…” She giggles again, and you’re close to fuming now.

“Well, I’m glad your boyfriend here is going on the ski trip with someone else.” You grin at her. Her head whips to face you, a scowl ever present on her features.

“He’s what?” Her head turns to stare daggers into Peter’s side profile. You see his jaw clench.

“One, I’m not your boyfriend...yet. Two, it’s true...I’m going with someone else. I guess. It’s nothing serious, though.” He mutters, and you can’t help but grow angrier with each passing word.  

“Oh, look where we are! Your house. Goodbye, pest.” Gen waves to you as you get out of the car. You return it with a glare as you march to your porch.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Peter catches up with you as soon as you’re in the front door. Luckily, your family isn’t home right now.

“What do you want?” You growl, ripping your arm out of his grasp.

“What is going on with you? I know you don’t like Gen because of what she did to me, but we’re both over that so why can’t you be, too? And why’d you go and try to sabotage me like that revealing that I’m going with someone else?” He asks, and you see the anger bubbling up in him. Like he deserves to be angry.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right, Peter. Let me apologize. I’m sorry that the person you’re speaking of doesn’t happen to just be anybody at the school, it’s me. I’m sorry that you’re getting back together with Gen since she’s a crappy person in general. Her dumping you oh so long ago is not the only reason I don’t like her. And lastly, I’m sorry that you don’t take me, or our friendship, seriously. I really misjudged you, Peter.” You huff, your words on the verge of yelling. You drop your backpack next to the wall.

“You misjudged me? Excuse me, who’s the popular one here? I picked you up from being a loser, (Y/n/n). You can’t give me the excuse of misjudging, because apparently, I was wrong to ever consider you a friend if you’re just going to go and stab me in the back like this. Maybe you should just be another somebody at the school to me. I like Gen, (Y/n/n), so I don’t see why you’re ruining this for me.” He rants, running his hand through his hair. You growl.

“Don’t (y/n/n) me. Don’t tell me I’m the one back-stabbing you. I said I misjudged you, but that was the only harsh thing against you that I said. I never called you an idiot, a jerk, nothing. I attacked Gen because she bullies me and hates me for no reason. Meanwhile here you are, defending the bully, calling me names. You’re calling me a bad friend, just another somebody in your life, and here I was thinking this would just be another one of our petty fights. I can’t believe this is how it turned out. From a simple car ride to this.” You blink back tears, not wanting to cry in front of him. Peter’s face turns to stone.

“At least I wasn’t the one that started it back in the car.” He whispers, and that breaks the last straw.

“Get out of my house.” You tell him, your voice dangerously low.

“What?” He asks, giving you an incredulous look.

“You heard me. Get out. I don’t want to see you any more right now.” You bite your lip, adding the right now to the end because you know you’re going to regret this entire fight soon. Very soon.

“Fine.” He walks out and slams the door shut behind him. You break down crying immediately after he leaves, grabbing your backpack and running to your room. 

You drop onto your bed and sob into your pillow, not stopping until about fifteen minutes later. You look up and see that you didn’t roll your shades down, so across from you is a torn-looking Peter and a smug-looking Gen. Just what you needed.

Getting off your bed, before giving Peter or Gen a chance to say anything, you close your blinds and sink to the floor.

How humiliating could this day get?

“Honey, where’s that boy toy of yours?” You hear the door shut and your mom’s voice call out, causing you to groan.

Things could definitely get worse.

~+~

The next morning, you wake up to your alarm that’s set to get ready for the ski trip. You groan and slam snooze on it before a brilliant idea pops into your head.

Apologize.

You immediately sit up straight and get out of bed, taking a shower and putting some comfortable and semi-warm clothes on. You grab your bag and set it by the door, flinging it open and gathering the courage to actually walk over there.

“Honey, I thought you weren’t going on the trip anymore?” Your mom yawns, walking into the room.

“I’m gonna go apologize. I can’t live without Peter.” You admit.

“That’s a bit dramatic, but okay, sweetie.” She nods and walks out of the room.

You roll your shoulders and walk to Peter’s house, knocking exactly three times on his door. He opens it almost immediately, shock evident on his face when he sees you. His hair is tousled like it usually is when he first wakes up and you can’t help but want to run your fingers through the soft locks. You don’t, though. And you didn’t bring your ski trip bag with you, just in case that seemed to forward, so you just fidget with the bottom of your sweater as you stare at him.

“Uh, what are you doing here?” He clears his throat awkwardly, looking anywhere but at you.

“I’m here to apologize. I’m sorry. I didn’t want things to end the way they did, and I need you to know that. I’m sorry I said all of those things. You’re my best friend, I can’t lose you. Please forgive me.” You frown, looking at the ground. You feel tears well in your eyes again but you blink them away. You’ve had enough embarrassment for a few days.

“I forgive you. And I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said all those things. You’re my best friend, too, and what I said was truly awful. I said some terrible things and immediately regretted them, but when I saw you crying...I couldn’t get the fact that I caused those tears out of my head. It hurt, it really did. I’m really glad we’re making up this early in the fight because I don’t know what I’d do without you around.” Peter smiles slightly and you grin widely at him.

“So, about the ski trip…” You trail off, giving him a sheepish smile. His eyes widen.

“About that….in the chaos of our fight, I figured we weren’t going anymore and asked Gen to go with me...I’m sorry.” He frowns, taking his turn to look down at the floor in embarrassment. He scuffs the floor with the tip of his shoe. Your face goes red in embarrassment at the fact that you thought he would keep your ticket for you.

“Right! Uh, yeah, you have fun with that. I’ll see you later, I guess.” You frown and spin on your heel. You feel Peter take your wrist, causing you to turn back around again.

“I just want you to know that...I didn’t mean anything I said during that fight. Seriously. You’re the most important person to me. I value your friendship like crazy, and you could never be another somebody in the crowd to me. I’m sorry for even suggesting it.” He gives you an awkward smile and you give a fake one in return.

“Yup. You too. Have fun on your trip with Gen.” You spin around again and hurry over to your house. You feel Peter’s stare on your back as he watches you go. It wasn’t a complete failure, he’s not mad at you anymore, but you still aren’t going on the ski trip with him.

Gen is.

~+~

After thirty minutes of complaining about how the ski trip was a bad idea in the first place, there’s a knock on your door. Your head perks up in curiousity.

“I’ll get it!” You call and run downstairs, swinging the door open to see Peter standing there, a large smile on his face.

“Still got your bag packed?” He asks.

“Yes...why?” You feel a smile tug on your lips.

“Because you and I are going on the ski trip together. C’mon, we gotta go or else we’ll miss the bus.” He motions you away with his hand. You chuckle and grab your bag, saying a quick goodbye to your mom before walking out and climbing into Peter’s car with him. He starts to drive way over the speed limit.

“So what made you change your mind?” You hum, not being able to do anything but smile.

“Well, I got there and sat down by Gen on the bus and she kinda laid her head on my shoulder and for some reason, it made me very uncomfortable. I quickly realized it was because only you ever lay your head on my shoulder and it felt weird for someone else to do it, and I didn’t like Gen stealing the signature thing you do with me. Then, I got to thinking about the trip and how much it would suck without you by my side. So, I got up and marched right off the bus to get to your house. And here we are.” He explains animatedly.

“I’m glad you chose me.” You nod.

“See, that’s the thing, though. It should have never been a choice. I should’ve been by your side since the beginning, seeing that Gen’s a terrible person in the first place. She’s a brat. She threw a fit as soon as I took her ticket and I realized how right you were. It’s always been you, (Y/n/n). It always comes back around to you.” Peter chuckles, laying his hand on top of yours and nervously glancing at you. You keep silent, absolutely over the moon that Peter Kavinsky, your crush, has his hand on yours right now.

“Yeah. You’re right. It’s always been you, Kavinsky.” You nod in agreement, biting your lip to keep from smiling uncontrollably again. You smile anyway. Then, you’re in a parking spot in front of the school. The two of you get out of the car and head toward the bus when you hear an all-too-familiar voice that you really wish you hadn’t heard.

“You!” Gen screeches from behind you, causing you to spin around and give her a look.

“What about me? I know I’m great but you can’t just come up to me screaming for an autograph, sorry.” You frown and Peter chuckles. He stands beside you, defensive against Gen instead of you this time and your heart melts. He really did notice how harsh he was.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Come on, (Y/n/n), we need to get to the bus. Ignore her.” Peter takes your hand in his and drags you away from her and to the bus. You find two seats together at the back and sit down.

“Thank you for stopping that. I don’t what I would’ve done if she started throwing punches.” You chuckle.

“Anything for my favorite girl.” He nudges you and smiles, laying his head on your shoulder and closing his eyes. You smile warmly at the cute boy and lay your head on top of his, quickly drifting off to sleep as the bus starts the journey.

~+~

When you arrive, you nudge Peter to wake him up. His eyes flutter open and immediately lock with yours. His lips turn up in a warm smile.

“You ready?” You question, and he nods groggily. You help him out of his seat and the two of you walk into the lodge.

“What first?” He asks, slinging an arm around your shoulder playfully. You hum.

“Well, we are on a ski trip so...let’s ski!” You grin at him.

“Atta girl. Meet back down here in ten?” Peter returns your grin. You bite your lip.

“Make it twenty. I’ve got to change into something warmer.” You giggle and brush past him, heading up to your room.

Once you’ve changed, you go back to the lobby. However, waiting for you is none other than Peter Kavinsky, along with Gen of all people. You didn’t even know she still went on the trip.

“Oh. (Y/n). I didn’t think you’d be here.” She grits her teeth, looking you up and down. Peter grimaces and walks to stand by you.

“Really, you didn’t? I mean, Peter did ditch you for me, so I thought that would’ve sent the message…or are you really that stupid?” You frown, faking concern.

“Haha, so funny, (y/l/n). Peter and I were about to go skiing, so...I’ll see you around.” She scowls and grabs Peter’s arm, to which he pulls away from her.

“I never said I’d ski with you. I actually promised (Y/n/n) here I’d ski with her. Not you.” Peter slides his arm around your waist causing you to smile widely. Gen justs scoffs and walks off.

“C’mon, let’s go ski!” You excitedly pull him along as you walk out of the lodge.

~+~

After skiing for so long, you head back to your room. You had already told Peter goodnight, so you were thinking you were done for the day. Oh, how wrong you were.

“(Y/n)!” Lara Jean’s familiar voice calls out to you. You turn to see her walking down the hall, smiling at you.

“Hey, Lara Jean. What’s up?” You stop in front of your room to talk to her.

“Nothing much. I just saw Peter out in the hot tub alone, though, so you might want to hurry.” She jokes.

“What?” You smile, though you’re slightly confused.

“I mean...I thought you were going to change...you know, to go to the hot tub with him?” She asks.

“Oh, no...I didn’t know he was going to the hot tub.” You laugh nervously, not really sure what’s going on.

“Well...Peter’s waiting for you in the hot tub, so...go get ‘em!” She awkwardly pats you on the back before walking off quickly. You frown and step inside your room, grabbing your swimsuit. 

If Peter’s in the hot tub, who are you to keep him waiting?

~+~

You walk out to the hot tub, a robe wrapped tightly around you to keep out the shivering cold. You see Peter before he sees you.

“Out here all alone? Where’s Gen?” You chuckle. Peter turns to look at you, smile brightening once he sees you.

“I actually wasn’t waiting on Gen, thankfully. I was waiting for someone else.” He admits, and your stomach sinks a little.

“Oh. Who were you waiting on?” You ask, wrapping your robe a little tighter self consciously.

“You, silly. C’mon in, the water’s warm.” He motions for you to step in. You grin as you take the robe off and step into the hot water. You sit next to him and he slings his arm around your shoulders.

“This is nice.” You try to start a conversation, failing terribly.

“It’s more than nice. I wish we could do this all the time.” He smiles, closing his eyes.

“What, have a hot tub?” You laugh.

“No, I mean I wish we could be like this all the time. Me and you. Doing cute stuff like this.” He lays his head on your shoulder, and you swear your heart stops beating.

“What are you trying to say, Pete?” You breathe out, biting your lip in a nervous habit.

“I’m saying I don’t want to be friends anymore, (Y/n/n),” Peter groans into your shoulder, “I want to be more. I want to be your boyfriend. I want you to be my girlfriend. I want to do cute stuff with you and be able to kiss you and hug you whenever I want.”

“I want that too.” You whisper, turning to face him. You see his face break out into a smile as he lifts his head off your shoulder.

“Then does that mean I can kiss you?” His eyes flicker down to your lips. You nod slightly and he tenderly presses his lips to yours. Your eyes close as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you.  

After a few minutes of just making out in the hot tub, you break away and giggle.

“I’m tired. Can we go to bed now?” You run your fingers through his hair, something you’ve always wanted to do.

“Yeah, let’s go. It’s getting cold out here anyway.” He smiles and helps you out of the hot tub and into your robe. The two of you walk to your room and he presses a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, boyfriend.” You smile and kiss him again.

“See you tomorrow, (Y/n/n).” He presses one last kiss to your forehead and walks off. You walk into your room and dreamily sigh before going to bed. 

This would be a night you’ll never forget.

~+~

The next morning, you quickly find Peter on the bus and give him a chaste kiss.  

“Morning, babe.” He grins at you and pulls you in for a longer kiss. You bring your hand up to his cheek before you’re rudely interrupted by a voice behind you.

“Ahem. People are trying to sleep here.” Gen rolls her eyes. She’s sitting in the seat across the aisle from you.

“Then you shouldn’t have sat there.” You shrug and peck Peter on the lips again. He chuckles and laces your hands together.

Maybe this ski trip wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[ghostbustermelanieking]

praescitum chapter five

chapter one, chapter two, chapter three, chapter four

casefile, season 10, season 11. part of my series that i write as i rewatch the x files.

Summary: As Mulder and Scully adjust to their reassignment to the X-Files and working together in the wake of their separation, they find themselves investigating a small town and a ghost that apparently warns people of bad things to come.

note: this chapter features the most reference to babylon i will make, lmao, but it’s definitely not babylon fic. warning up front for references to murder and crime scenes (and briefly to suicide).

---

five.

december, 2015

Things are awkward in the morning. Scully should have expected that they'd be, but part of her had hoped they wouldn't. But she knows it won't be as soon as she sees Mulder, slumped over at a table in the dining room when she comes down for breakfast, glasses on his nose, stifling yawns behind his hand. He looks like he barely slept. He offers her a stiff smile when she enters, motions her over, but he doesn't have much to say. He checks his phone a lot, articles that she catches snippets of the headlines from.

Scully just eats her breakfast quietly. She doesn't know what else to do.

Sheriff O'Connell calls them after a while, asking them to come down to the police station. They snatch up the opportunity quickly; Scully can tell that Mulder is just as relieved for the potential distraction as she is. If she's being honest, Scully still isn't sure why they're there, but she's willing to throw herself into it just so she doesn't have to think. That was the whole reason she agreed to come back to Willoughby; she would've been fine with staying away, but she wanted to come so she could concentrate on something else for a while.

O'Connell and Deputy Jacobs are waiting in O’Connell’s office. Jacobs has crutches, which are leaning against the chair he's sitting in, his leg encased in a cast propped up on another chair, and he greets Mulder and Scully with more enthusiasm than O’Connell does. “Glad to hear y'all are back in town,” he says, closing the file on the desk and nodding politely.

The sheriff motions to the file with a wave of his hand. “I’ve got Kenny looking at the original Caruthers file, seeing if he can find anything new,” he says. “He was on the original case, and is much more tuned into the… supernatural aspect of things. So I'm hoping he'll have an epiphany or something.” He clears his throat. “In the meantime, I was thinking that maybe we could go check out the crime scene. You've been there before…”

“We have,” says Mulder, “but I wouldn't mind a second look.” He's got that sound in his voice, the one that gives it away: he's interested in this. He wants to fully understand it.

Scully is looking at the file on the desk. “Are the original autopsy reports in there?” she asks. Jacobs nods. “I’d love to see that, make my own observations,” she says, nearly without thinking. “Maybe I should stay back with Deputy Jacobs.”

She looks over at Mulder out of the corner of her eyes, and sees that he is nodding. “That sounds like a good idea,” he says, and she wonders if he's eager to get rid of her. “Scully’s a pathologist, a damn good one, so she's likely to see anything that was potentially missed,” he explains to Jacobs and O'Connell.

“Oh, that's good.” The sheriff nods politely. “So… you would rather stay here, Agent Scully?”

“I'd like to see the autopsy results, yes,” Scully says awkwardly, looking away from Mulder. (She wants to make this right, but she has no idea how. And going along with Sheriff O'Connell to investigate a crime scene they've already been to does not seem like the right method, not right now.)

“Sounds good.” The sheriff reaches for his keys, the metal jangling between his fingers. “You want to head on out there, Agent Mulder?”

“Sure.” Mulder's hand brushes over the small of her back, and Scully jumps. She hadn't expected him to be ready to touch her so soon. It’s not unwelcome, but it’s certainly startling, and she looks at him sheepishly.

His eyes are apologetic when he looks at her, when he says, “See you in a few?”

“Sure,” Scully says, swallowing hard. “Good luck.”

Mulder nods as he turns to follow the sheriff out of the room. “You, too.”

---

There are the same bloodstains on the floor outside the Caruthers’ apartment, the ones he remembers, and Joe shows them to Agent Mulder with a flick of his hand. “Here's where they were found,” he says. He can still remember what they looked like, a shocking, horrifying picture: blood clumped in Marion's dark hair, Ian’s eyes open like marbles. He never knew them well, but he'd seen them around town. He'd thought their baby was cute, then, and thinking of Ryan now fills Joe with guilt when he thinks of Marion and Ian’s bodies. He certainly never pictured himself hiring that baby as a babysitter years later, and then firing him and wholeheartedly believing that the kid let his dog out. He wonders what Marion and Ian would've thought of that; he wonders if they somehow know.

“So they were stabbed here,” Mulder says. “Or were they stabbed inside and dragged out here?”

Joe shrugs. “Far as I can remember, they were stabbed out here.”

“Huh.” Mulder steps inside the threshold of the empty apartment, surveying the living room and then the hall. “So they could've been trying to run from the murderer,” he says, and Joe thinks of Jared Caruthers, always a year or two behind him in school. He'd been a little bit of a black sheep growing up, but they'd still never suspected he'd do this. Jared and Ian had always been close, had always picked on their baby sister; if you'd asked a younger Joe O’Connell which of the Caruthers siblings would murder another, he would've guessed Annie. And then he would've shaken his head in dismissive disbelief, because he never would've really suspected that any of the Caruthers kids could murder somebody. Never.

“Or,” Mulder adds contemplatively, “maybe Jared wanted to make sure the bodies were found, if he planned this.”

“He ran, though,” Joe says. He remembers that part well. “Why would he run if he wanted his victims to be found?”

Mulder shrugs. “Maybe he wanted to buy some time for some reason? Maybe he was worried about what would happen to his infant nephew if no one knew the parents were dead? Or maybe there was a specific reason they were killed outside the apartment. Did Jared Caruthers ever disclose the reasoning behind that?”

Joe shrugs. “Like I told you a couple months ago, Agent Mulder, Jared was obsessed with the Specter. Maybe he thought that murdering his brother and sister-in-law was the bad thing that the Specter predicted.”

Mulder scans the living room again, his brow furrowed in thought. “So Jared saw the ghost before the murders? There was a distinct premonition to the deaths?”

Joe shrugs. “I dunno. Kenny always figured one of the three of them saw the ghost, especially after Ryan's sightings went real public years ago. Made sense. But I don't know for sure.”

“I think the key here,” says Mulder, “is to figure out the Specter’s role in the murders. Why the Specter has been haunting Ryan all these years. Because I'm guessing that when this crime was investigated in 2002, no one considered the fact that Ryan Caruthers was going to be haunted because it hadn't happened yet.”

Joe shrugs. “That's true. That's one factor that's different.”

Mulder paces around the living room in a wide circle, as if considering its bareness. Joe remembers that night at the crime scene: Kenny so green that he turned nauseous at the sight, Joe himself with a year or two under his belt but understandably horrified by all of it. He thought of his girl, and how he wanted to marry her someday. How horrible it'd be if he and Bonnie turned out like this. A social worker had been carrying Ryan out, and that poor baby was bawling his eyes out. It was one of the saddest things Joe had ever seen.

“What did you all find inside the apartment that night?” asks Mulder, startling Joe out of his stupor. He turns to the older man, who's watching him contemplatively. He raises an eyebrow. “Anything out of the ordinary?”

Joe suddenly remembers the candlelight flickering across Kenny's spooked face, and he says, “Candles. Lots of them. And there was a Ouija board on the floor. And… crosses on the wall, I think. I remember someone commented on it, because Ian and Marion didn't go to church even though they lived right down the street from one. None of the Caruthers family went to church.”

Mulder's eyes are wide in astonishment. “Wait, there was a Ouija board at the crime scene?” Joe nods. “And you said that Jared Caruthers was obsessed with the Specter.” Joe nods again.

Agent Mulder crosses his arms. “Sheriff, I know you're hesitant to believe in this stuff, but I'm starting to think the Specter had more of a hand in these murders then you realize.”

---

The autopsy reports seem fairly straightforward: Marion and Ian Caruthers were killed by multiple stab wounds, largely to the torso. A few defensive wounds and scratches, mostly on the husband, likely as a result of trying to protect his wife. Jared Caruthers was found with scratches along his arms and face, bruises; some probably from the murders, others as a result of running through the woods. The baby was unharmed. No blood inside the apartment, aside from the murder weapon, dropped on the floor as if out of horror.

“Here's the crime scene photos,” Deputy Jacobs says to Scully, sliding the pictures to her. The hall is covered in splotches of blood; the living room is filled with large white candles, crosses hung on the wall and a Bible on the dining room table and a Ouija board in the center of a circle of candles. Scully can't tell if it looks more like the site of a seance or an exorcism, but she knows that Mulder would be all over it.

“Did the brother ever disclose what they were doing that night?” she asks, tapping the photos with one finger. She thinks the next logical step is talking to Jared Caruthers to try and find out; she's going to suggest that to Mulder when he gets back.

“Not that I know of. Remember, it's been a while,” Jacobs says. “I do think Jared was pretty upset about the whole thing. Didn't want to talk about it, wouldn't really give answers. I think he regretted what he did.”

Scully bites her lower lip, considering. She knows that she has been plagued with guilt over her sister's death for years, felt as if she was responsible, and she can't imagine what it would be like to have actually been responsible. Especially if you were close to your sibling. She has no idea about how Jared Caruthers felt about his older brother, but she knows what it's like to see your sibling dead and feel like it's your fault. (In the case of Jared Caruthers, it actually is.)

“Did you find anything you think could be important, Agent Scully?” the deputy asks.

She blinks out of her stupor. “Oh… I think there's a possibility these crime scene photos could be significant,” she says, tapping the images again. “Agent Mulder would probably know more about said significance, but I definitely think it could be important. I also would like to talk to Jared Caruthers if the opportunity arises.”

Jacobs strokes his beard in thought. “Sure, we could probably work that ou—”

But he never finishes. The walkie-talkie on the desk springs to life, a female voice coming through: “Sheriff, are you there?”

Jacobs scoops up the radio and says, “This is Kenny Jacobs, Winnie. Joe's out on assignment; what's up?”

“We've got a fire out on Church Street,” the woman says. “That abandoned Willoughby Woods Apartment Building is ablaze. The site of those murders in 2002? The fire department has been called, and Deets and I are responding to the scene…”

Something about that name seems familiar. Scully is muddling over it when Deputy Jacobs turns to her with saucer-wide horrified eyes, and she realizes. From the look on his face, she knows. “Mulder,” she says, her breath leaving her in a painful burst. She feels airless, like she's been hit in the stomach. “Is that where they…”

Jacobs presses the button on his radio too hard and says, “Joe's in there, Winnie. He and an FBI agent went out there to investigate the Caruthers murder.”

“Oh my god,” the woman says with horror.

Scully is already on her feet, rushing for her bag and her keys, her heart racing. Praying that he's all right, he has to be all right. “I have to get over there,” she blurts. The jagged edge of the keys bite into her palm. She clutches them harder.

“I'll come with you.” The deputy maneuvers himself onto his crutches with admirable mobility. His face is white and worried. “That's my best friend out there.”

Mine too, Scully wants to say, but he's so much more than that, and her ring is cold against her collarbone, and she doesn't want the last thing she said to him to be a fight. A refusal to come home. She doesn't want that to be the end of things between them, she has so many things she needs to tell him. So many things she needs to apologize for. You don't know that he didn't get out, she tells herself as she moves towards the door, trying to reassure herself. You don't know that he isn't okay. But she doesn't know that he is okay, either, and she needs to get to him. She needs to get to him, she never should've stayed back this way. She moves without thinking through the police station and out to the car, Jacobs’s squeaking crutches behind her. She climbs into the driver's seat and pulls out her phone, calls Mulder as she settles into the seat. Prays and prays for him to answer as Deputy Jacobs climbs into the passenger seat. It goes straight to voicemail. “Goddamnit,” Scully hisses, dropping her phone on her lap, throwing the car into Drive and pulling away.

She tries again and again, three times before they reach Church Street, shifting her eyes frantically between her phone and the road. No answer every time. Several discordant rings, his voice saying, Hi, you've reached Fox Mulder— Hang up, try again, pray that isn't the last time she'll hear his voice.

She can see the smoke in the sky, and fear is clogging her throat. “Damn it, Joe, answer,” Jacobs is growling at his own phone, and Scully's hands feel numb around the wheel. Please, some small part of her protests. Please don't let this be it. She wants to see him, she just wants to see him. She hits Mulder's contact again with the flat of her thumb, listens to it ring as they roll down the street. The sound of Mulder's voice—Hi, you've reached Fox Mulder—fills the car again, and Scully bites back curses, blinks back furious tears.

The building is really, truly ablaze, smoke and flames pouring out of the windows, and Scully's stomach twists painfully at the sight. Jacobs gets out of the car, frantically moving towards the firefighters clustered at the edge of the lawn (far enough from the fire to be out of danger), but Scully can't move. Mulder’s contact page is still pulled up on her phone. She drops it in the cupholder, reaches up unconsciously to touch her ring through her shirt. Offers up a quick prayer, some sort of plea. Lets her eyes slip shut briefly.

And then the firefighters emerge from the building with someone held between them, smokey and coughing roughly into his elbow. Scully can't see who it is, but she begins moving immediately: pushes the car door open and nearly falls to the ground, races towards the firefighters so fast that she practically skids to a stop, her shoes kicking up frosty grass. They're lowering the rescue onto a stretcher, placing an oxygen mask over his mouth, and by now Scully can see that it's Sheriff O'Connell. Not Mulder. She catches a fireman by the arm in a hard, gaspy motion, gasps out, “Mulder, where's Mulder?”

“Ma'am, I don't know what…”

Scully gathers her strength and manages to bite out an explanation: “There was another man in there. An FBI agent. Where is he?”

The man's face fills with regret as he meets her eyes. “Ma’am, we didn't see anyone else in there.”

It's like a punch to the gut, and Scully gasps a little as she lets go of the man's arm. O’Connell is unconscious, his deputy bent over the stretcher, and she can't even ask if Mulder is in there. If Mulder is gone, if she's lost him. A combination of tears and smoke sting her eyes as she bites out, “Y-you have to go back in, you have to look…” She's ready to pull rank, ready to spit at this man that she is his wife, that she'll go in herself to find him, that he can't be dead, she won't let this be the end…

“Scully?”

The voice comes from behind her, a shouted question. She turns and she sees him standing on the edge of the lawn, cold wind biting her skin as his coat blows with it, his hair rumpled and not sooty and his eyes full of confusion, questioning.

She takes a shaky, desperate breath, like she can finally get enough air again, and starts to run. She moves towards him in an impulsive motion, throws her arms around him like they are young and stupid again and holds tighter now than she ever did then, her fingers clutching at his shirt, digging in. Questions satisfied, the firefighters move on behind her. Mulder's hand comes up tentatively to smooth her hair, his other hand against the small of her back, pushing her closer. Her face presses into his tie. “Jesus, Mulder,” she chokes out, leaning hard into him with the push of the freezing wind. “I thought you were in there. I thought you were dead.”

She wants to throw up at the thought of losing Mulder so soon after her mother, never getting a chance to apologize to him or reconcile, never seeing him again. She clutches him tighter under his coat, the smell of smoke muffled a little by his dress shirt.

“I'm okay, Scully,” he murmurs, his hand cupping the back of her head. His voice is trembling, too; he presses his mouth against her hair.

She pulls away as a firefighter approaches, telling them they have to get back so they don't get caught up in the chaos. She walks back with him, their fingers tangled messily together, until they reach the car. Streams of water hit the house. Deputy Jacobs is being helped into the back of the ambulance with Sheriff O’Connell; he waves at them and Scully nods back. She turns back to Mulder as they reach the car. “Where the hell did you go?” she asks softly.

“We didn't find anything of significance in the apartment, so I suggested we go see where the victims are buried, in the cemetery right down the street. Just in case there was anything there, any signs of paranormal activity. But just as we were leaving, the sheriff got this weird look on his face and said he had to go back in.” Mulder has a strange, contemplative look on his face. “He wanted me to come with him, but I said I’d rather just walk on down, meet him later. So I went on.”

“I called you three or four times,” she whispers, still not entirely out of the state of panic.

Guilt rushes over his face. “No reception out there. It's a dead zone.” He reaches out gently to touch her cheek, strokes it with the flat of his thumb. “I'm so sorry, Scully. I had no idea…”

“It's okay,” she says, and she's hugging him again, her face pressed into his neck. He's alive, he's not hurt, and that's all that matters. They have time. It'll be okay. “It's okay.”

He inhales sharply, maybe a little surprised, and then he's hugging her back, his arms wrapped around her waist. She sighs a little with relief, doesn't move. They stand together for a moment, frozen in the mix of December chill and heat emanating from the blaze, their arms tight around each other.

---

Joe is fine, and Kenny is more than thankful for that. Beyond relieved. He was really scared for a second there, more scared than he thinks he's ever been in the history of their career as cops. Joe is still unconscious when they arrive at the hospital, recovering from smoke inhalation, so Kenny calls Bonnie before sitting by his friend's bed until she arrives. He promises her that he'll stay with Joe.

Kenny has always believed in the ghost, ever since his grandma told him the story as a kid. When her cat died, and she swore to everyone that she had seen the ghost the night before, and he'd listened with wide eyes. He's always believed. And that belief has only strengthened since Rob saw the ghost, since he saw the ghost himself. And Joe… Joe never actually told Kenny that he saw the ghost a few days ago; Bonnie had been the one to let him in on that, and Kenny has tried to respect his friend's privacy. But Kenny's been nervous ever since Bonnie told him, about what was going to happen to Joe, or to his family. It'd been part of the reason he insisted on coming into the station to do desk work, some faux-noble sense of wanting to protect his buddy. He shouldn't have let Joe go alone to the house, but he'd figured the FBI agent could protect him better than Kenny himself. And besides, he hadn't know what the hell could happen there, hadn't expected a fourteen-year-old crime scene to be dangerous, especially in Willoughby…

Bonnie and Robbie show up, pale and tearful, and Kenny leaves them alone after giving them both hugs and reassuring that he's just a phone call away. He's intruded on too many family moments lately. “Call me when he wakes up,” he says, gives Rob another tight hug and then leaves. He takes the only taxi in town back to the station, and finds a group of deputies ready to go out to the site to investigate. “House burned to the ground,” Winnie, the deputy who called it in, says to Kenny, arms crossed over her chest. “They say it's gotta be arson. They don't know what else it could be.”

Kenny rubs his beard thoughtfully. He'd like to take a look himself, has his own theories, but there's no way he can get out there like this. “Hey, take me out there with you, wouldja?” he asks.

Winnie shoots him a disapproving look, fiddling with her hat. “C’mon, Ken. You know you're not supposed to be in the field.”

“I'll be careful,” Kenny says. He has a feeling about this, a thought that there's something important here. “C’mon, Winnie. This is barely even 'the field,’ anyhow. It's just a fire..”

Winnie sighs and gives in, takes him in her car. Kenny likes to think he's good at arguing his case.

At the scene, there's not much but ashy grass and grayed ruins, collapsed walls and piles of charred bricks. It's a little strange, the big empty space along Church Street, especially when the space is as famous as this one. The Caruthers house. It was apartments, but Kenny knows every Willoughby kid born after 2002 calls it the Caruthers house. It's Willoughby's tourist attraction, a popular Halloween destination by dumb teenagers trying to scare each other. Joe has said, before, that there was graffiti in the apartment that said something about the Caruthers family being cursed. Based off of that kid Ryan's history, and now this, Kenny is inclined to agree.

He's moving on his crutches along the ruins, around to the back, coughing a little and thinking of what could've happened to Joe today, if no one called it in. Thinking of the night they got called out here for the murders and saw it: the living room set up like an eerie movie, the kid crying as someone carried him out. And the blood; oh, god, the blood. He was so green, he almost vomited. He's thinking of Marion and Ian and Ryan, and even Jared and Annie. The poor cursed Caruthers. He's known them forever, they were all in school together. He and Joe right between Ian and Jared; they all played football together sometimes, they'd all go to the same parties or, earlier, play the same games on the playground. He never expected this.

And just as Kenny is recalling a memory from some-odd party he and Joe were at (where he saw Jared and Ian nastily drunk and nearly fighting each other, shouting, their faces red with fury), he sees it. The crumpled baseball cap on the ground.

Orioles cap. Ryan Caruthers's hat of choice.

---

Mulder and Scully aren't sure what, exactly, to do in the wake of this fire. They feel detached, uncertain. They eventually end up going to a restaurant, a little place that's slightly more high end than the diner. It feels like the best thing to do.

Scully seems distracted, staring blankly at her menu until the waitress comes and she blinks in surprise when the waitress asks what they want to eat. She keeps looking at Mulder like he's going to disappear, in a cautious, shielded way. Mulder thinks of the weight of Scully in his arms, the way she held onto him. Almost the same way she did outside of her mother's hospital room, but not quite. More panicky, more fearful. She was scared for him. She thought she had lost him, too.

“Hey,” he says when the waitress leaves, touching her hand across the table tentatively, like she might pull away. “I'm sorry I scared you today.” There's a lot he needs to apologize for, but he'll start there.

Scully sighs a little, brushing her fingers over his as she looks at him. “It's not your fault, Mulder. I just… I haven't gotten used to this again. The fear… the danger… I haven't experienced any of those feelings since 2012—” She bites off her words like she regrets them, looks at the top of the table.

Mulder squeezes her hand. He doesn't want to talk about 2012, because he knows a lot of what happened in 2012 is what led to the end of their relationship, but he's gotten to a point where he can talk about it without feeling the anger or fear or confusion he had then. He wants Scully to know that, but he senses that now isn't the time to bring it up. “I don't think you have to get used to it, Scully,” he says instead. “You shouldn't have to. Your life shouldn't be… a long string of fear and tragedy.”

“It's not, on good days.” She rubs her thumb over his knuckles, head bent in thought.

The scene from the night before replays in his head again—the things he said, the way she reacted. He pushed her, and when she didn't respond the way he expected, he lashed out. It's fucked up, and it's not what he deserved, and he's felt incredibly guilty about it. And he needs her to know. “Scully, I'm…” he starts, unsteadily. “I am so sorry for what I said last night. I wasn't being fair to you, and I never… I didn't want to drive you away like that. I wanted to be there for you. And I'm… I'm so sorry.”

Scully doesn't say anything. But she doesn't let go of his hand. She's looking right at their intertwined fingers, staring hard. “Do you remember what I said on the Monica Bannan case, seven years ago?” she asks finally. “When I said that chasing monsters in the dark wasn't my life anymore?”

He thinks about it constantly. “Yes,” he says in what he hopes is a neutral voice.

Scully pauses, her jaw working back and forth. “I think… I said it because I was scared,” she says finally. “I'm scared so often, Mulder, of so many things. I'm scared now. But I think… when I said that, then, I was just thinking about the monsters. And the fear, like the fear I felt today, when I thought I'd lost you.” Mulder’s chest clenches as she squeezes his hand tightly. “But, Mulder… this is my life again,” she adds. “And aside from moments like today… I don't hate it. I don't think I ever did. And the only reason I don't… the only reason I haven't walked away from this, that I even came back in the first place… is you.”

Mulder's eyes widen, just a little. Scully pulls his hand to her and brushes her lips over his dirty knuckles. She doesn't let go of it, either; she holds his hand against her chest, his arm stretched across the table. He lets her, his hand warm in hers. It almost aches.

She's still not looking at him, but she looks happy, he can see it behind the hair falling across her face. Not quite smiling, but the corners of her mouth lifted. Content. “I don't know, Mulder,” she says finally. “It feels like I'm always scared. Like I'm always… reacting because of it.”

It's an apology for last night; he can tell. The most of an apology she'll give because neither of them are very good at talking about things. He nudges her thumb with his, an old habit of theirs from years ago, his own quiet apology. “Take all the time you need,” he says. “I'll be here.”

---

They go to the police station after the diner, to give their statements about the fire. The officers who responded to the scene seem to belief that the fire was a result of arson, but they don't have a clear idea of who set it. Mulder confirms that he didn't see anyone in or around the apartment building during the time he was there, and they're more or less cleared to leave. “We’ll call if we have further questions,” says the deputy who takes their statements.

They go to the hospital next, to check on Sheriff O’Connell. His wife is waiting outside, asleep in a chair, but Robbie is sitting on the floor coloring. He offers them a small smile when they enter, and Scully smiles back gently. “I think Daddy's awake,” he says solemnly, selecting a red. “He says he wants to talk to you.”

“Thanks, Robbie,” Mulder says, offering a smile on his own. They enter quietly and find O'Connell sitting up in bed. He opens his mouth to greet them, but falls into coughing instead.

“Don't strain yourself, sheriff,” Scully says quickly.

O’Connell waves off their protests, wiping his mouth. “Are you okay, Agent Mulder?” he rasps.

Mulder looks startled. “Y-yeah, I'm fine,” he says.

The sheriff looks relieved. “I wasn't sure if you got out,” he says. “Or if you'd left, like we talked about.”

“You don't remember asking me to come back in with you?” asks Mulder carefully. “And me saying I'd meet you back there after I checked out the cemetery?”

The sheriff shakes his head, confused. “I can't remember anything after we left the apartment building, Agent Mulder. Last I remember, you had suggested going down to the cemetery to visit the Caruthers's graves. And then I was waking up in a hot, smoky room. I have no idea what happened in between.”

Scully's brow is furrowing, and Mulder is just as confused. “You suggested going back in, sheriff,” he says. “You don't remember that?”

O'Connell shakes his head, falling into another coughing fit. After a minute, he says, “But I do… I do remember this. The firefighters didn't find me where I first woke up. I saw the Specter.”

“You saw the Specter?” Mulder asks incredulously.

O'Connell nods. “I followed him out into the hall before I collapsed again, but the room I was in collapsed as soon as I left. And then the firemen found me,” he says roughly. He wipes his forehead, his mouth again. “I guess he is a sort of… good angel or whatever.”

Scully raises her eyebrows at Mulder, who shrugs. She says, “Well, we're relieved to hear that you were okay, Sheriff O'Connell.”

“Thank you.” The sheriff sags into the pillows, tired, coughing harshly into his elbow. “Well, I just wanted to tell y'all that, and also that I don't think there's any reason to stay unless you just want to. Seeing as how Kenny and I are both out of commission.”

Mulder exchanges a hesitant look with Scully. “You don't think this needs any more investigation?”

O’Connell coughs again, longer this time. “It's hard to say,” he manages, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “But… I know that you'll have a harder time without me or Kenny, considering the mindset of the people in this town. Besides, the fire being as destructive as it was… this may be the end of the sightings, at least for now.” He dissolves into hacking coughs once more.

“You should rest, sheriff,” says Scully quickly. “Don't strain yourself. You're lucky to be alive.”

The sheriff meets their eyes, a resigned sort of look in his eyes. A look Mulder hadn't seen the first time he met, when he hadn't exactly believed in the Specter. “I'm not sure it was luck, Agent Scully,” he says. “I don't think that it was.”

---

Mulder and Scully leave, simply because they aren't sure what else to do. They meet with Deputy Jacobs before they go, who seems distracted, like his mind is on something else. “I think people are going to be pretty preoccupied with the fire, honestly,” he says, his fingers drumming absently on the table. “The police department and the citizens. I don't think anyone is going to be thinking about the Specter much.”

So Mulder and Scully leave. “Maybe someday, something will happen here that causes us to spend more than one night at a time,” Mulder jokes as they drive out of town.

“I've said it before and I'll say it again,” Scully says. “I'm not sure if we could ever do anything here. I'm not sure what the case was. We didn't find the dog, we didn't save Sheriff O'Connell.”

What she's saying feels like a nice way of saying that this case was a waste of time, but Mulder is starting to agree. “It started out as a missing dog and ended up as a phenomenon that could be classified as a mania,” he says. “And a fire.”

She sighs, her head leaning against the window. “I don't know, Mulder. Confusion, fainting, or seizures are possible mental repercussions of smoke inhalation, but I've never heard of memory loss. Especially not the type that Sheriff O'Connell was describing.”

“It sounded more like a blackout to me,” Mulder says. “Which is impossible, because he was talking to me. He asked me to come back in with him.”

“Thank God you didn't,” Scully says with a sigh. She's fidgeting with one of the chains around her neck, but Mulder cannot tell if it's the ring or the quarter.

He has a sudden epiphany, a memory: the look in the sheriff's eyes as he announced that he wanted to go back in. It was strange, unfamiliar. “There was…  something different about O'Connell during the time he can't remember,” he says out loud. “A… weird look in his eyes or something. He almost didn't seem like himself. He changed his mind so fast, and he wouldn't explain why.”

“That is weird,” Scully says. Her fingers move at her collarbone. “I'm starting to think Willoughby is just a strange town, period. But I don't necessarily think the… ghost, or the supposed phenomenon of the ghost, is dangerous. I mean, someone certainly could've died today, or gotten hurt much worse, but no one did. People died back in 2002, but the causes were perfectly natural. The phenomenon is certainly unexplained, but it doesn't seem like anything we could prevent, or interfere with.”

“I thought our purpose here was to explain it,” says Mulder. “To understand it. That was what I had hoped to do.”

Scully shrugs. Her hand falls away from the neckline of her shirt. “Some things are just unexplainable, Mulder. Sometimes we can't look any further because there's nothing to find. If the Willoughby Specter exists, it looks like it just warns people. Robbie O’Connell about his dog, Deputy Jacobs about his accident, the sheriff about the fire.” Her voice has sort of a dark quality to it, like she doesn't want to discuss it. “It seems like there's danger, but that the danger isn't exactly linked to said paranormal phenomenon.”

Mulder’s mind is fixed on Sheriff O'Connell in that moment outside the Caruthers apartment. He hadn't lingered on it before, but now he keeps returning to it: the unsettling look in his eyes. An almost eerie look. “Everyone says that the Willoughby Specter is a good spirit,” he says. “But all it brings is death and destruction.”

“Ryan Caruthers doesn't believe it's good,” says Scully, a surprisingly hard quality to her voice. “But who knows, Mulder? Who knows if it even exists. We may never know.”

“What do you think, Scully?” Mulder asks in a soft voice. “What do you make of all this?”

She shrugs. Her eyes are on the outside window, on the incoming clouds that suggest a storm in the near future. “I don't know, Mulder. I really don't.”

---

Case #X-29336, Willoughby, Virginia

Addendum to 2002 Investigation (Case #X-43187) by Agents Doggett and Reyes

December, 2015; Agent Fox Mulder, Agent Dana Scully

There is undeniably paranormal activity in Willoughby, Virginia. This activity is attributed to the legend of a spirit who warns citizens of the town of future misfortunes to come. In 2002, there were many sightings of this spirit and noted unfortunate events, one of which has been included here [the suicide of Holly Smith; reference: report by Agents Doggett and Reyes, May, 2002]. Such events transpired again in 2015. The events that we investigated [ref: Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully] are as follows: the disappearance of a dog belonging to the O’Connell family (preceded by a sighting by Robert O'Connell), a car accident (immediately preceded by a sighting by Deputy Kenneth Jacobs), a fire (during which the spirit was sighted by Sheriff Joseph O’Connell), many other sightings by various citizens [ref: see attachment], and multiple sightings between the years 2002 and 2015 by Ryan Caruthers. No official crimes were committed. The only injuries as a result of this phenomenon were afflicted on Kenneth Jacobs and Joseph O'Connell.

While there are no clear crimes in Willoughby and no clear perpetrator to be pursued [addendum: the crime of arson and possibly attempted murder being investigated by the Willoughby Police Department, but it is assumed this crime did not occur as a result of paranormal activity], it is clear that Willoughby is filled with unexplainable events. One of the three times we were called out to Willoughby was an attempt by the sheriff [ref: Joseph O'Connell] to contain said events to protect the citizens of Willoughby, as a similar series of sightings ended in the deaths of three people [ref: report by Agents Doggett and Reyes, 2002, ref: attached summary of the murders of Marion and Ian Caruthers,]. While there is no clear crimes being committed currently as a result of the Willoughby Specter, the potential is certainly there. It has happened before, and it may happen again. There is also the question of the ghost itself. Its sightings are unable to be interpreted; the citizens of Willoughby regard it as a warning, but the events it warns them of are never able to be prevented since the victims are never explicitly informed of what is going to happen. The morals and intentions of this spirit are pulled into question as well.

Case #X-29336 remains open, pending further investigation.

---

There is a case in Texas. There are younger, baby-faced agents that amusingly remind Mulder and Scully of themselves. Scully makes a joke that harkens back to the first time they'd met and Mulder smiles. He likes to think that they are healing, the two of them.

When it's all over, Scully comes out to the house for the first time since Tad O’Malley and his circus of conspiracies. It's a stunningly warm day for December, especially considering how cold it's been lately (“Global warming,” Mulder jokes when Scully shows up in a light jacket), and they end up hand in hand, walking out into the field together. They sit out in the tall stalks of dying grass, their fingers intertwined and their faces bent up towards the sky.

“So, Scully,” Mulder says in a soft voice, when the sun has sunk a little in the sky and they've fallen into a comfortable silence. “Why'd you decide to come out here?”

She traces over the length of his fingers. “No reason,” she says, her voice thick with casualness. She squeezes his hand again, leans her head against his.

He bumps his shoulder companionably against hers. “This is an awful long way to come for no reason, Scully,” he says, nudging her thumb. He doesn't know why he is saying this, why he is pushing her, but he wants to know. He won't push any further than the distance they've more or less established since Willoughby, but he wants to know this, at least. After her aversion to coming out here, her insistence that they stay at her apartment in Bethesda and her refusal to discuss coming home, he doesn't understand why she's come here now.

He's prepared for Scully to pull away, to close herself off, but she does neither of those things. She sighs a little, her head lolling against his shoulder, grips his hand in hers like an affirmation. “I just wanted to see you, Mulder,” she says, and he can hear the purposeful lightness in her voice. “That's all.”

He smiles, just a little. Lets go of her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder. “Well, I'm glad you came,” he says, his hand rubbing warmth into her shoulder. And out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he can see her smiling.

They sit together in the field, watching the clouds move across the sky.

[idioticimagination]

The Queen of The Sky | The 100 | Part 9

Request Here!

Pairing: Bellamy x Reader Rating: M Fandom: The 100 Word Count: 2,875 Summary: Three years ago Y/N, queen of the tribe known as the Ladrones, was sent to the ground as punishment for her crimes. Now the dropship has just arrived along with 100 delinquents. Among which there are many familiar faces. Several stories to be told. Will Y/N’s dark past unravel for all to see? Will her secrets finally be shared with the world? Will the queen of the sky cause sunny days or stormy nights? Is she a villain? Or just the goddess they needed?

In celebration of 100 followers part 9 is almost 3,000 words! =)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

I looked at Kai, who was now in a panic. The footsteps were getting closer, and I heard Bell cock his gun.

“Kai, stay calm,” I whispered. I walked out of the entrance to see Bell with his gun aimed at me. “It’s just me,” I said with my hands raised.

Bell put his gun down as he let a breath of relief escape him. “Throwback to when you had no idea I existed,” I said while I rolled my eyes, fixing my cloak as I cleared my throat.

“What are you doing here?” he grunted as he rubbed his face. He glared at me. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, completely shirtless. His hair was a mess. Bruises littered his chest, shoulders, and neck. He was with someone. Why did that hurt?

My jaw clenched, and I gritted my teeth. “Sorry,” I apologised, a hint of sarcasm in my tone, “Was I interrupting something?” He gave me a confused look before he caught sight of what I was looking at.

“Jealous?” He asked. A smug smile on his lips. I scoffed. This was not why I was here.

“Sure, whatever floats your fucking boat,” I sneered. I let out a sigh as I slowly brought my sword out. Bell watched me with a look of confusion. I held the blade to his throat, giving him enough space to move, but not enough to move forward specifically. He froze at my movement. 

“There’s something you might want to see, but I’ve got a guard in there. I need you to turn around so I can let him go.” 

Bellamy rolled his eyes as he turned his back to me. I kicked my foot against the metal ship so Kai would know he could leave. I heard footsteps behind me and a knocking against what I assumed was the bark of a tree trunk. I took that as a sign that it was safe for Bell to turn around. I sheathed my sword and took a step away from Bell.

Bellamy faced me with a grumpy look on his face. “Is there any particular reason as to why I can’t see the dude’s face?” 

“Jealous?” I teased as Bellamy took his turn to scoff at me. I followed Bellamy’s lead as I walked into the dropship. I took a look around, realising this was the first time I actually went inside the camp, let alone the dropship! I wasn’t looking at where I was going, so it was inevitable that I bumped into something. Or someone. I looked up to see Bell’s back, scratch marks all over it. He was frozen in place. 

“What happened?” Bell asked as he turned to look at me. I glanced at Wells.

“He was stabbed,” I said in a matter of fact tone. Bellamy got a grip on my throat as he backed me into the wall. His nostrils flared. Obviously, he wasn’t happy.

“I’m not in the mood for you to be a smartass right now, Angel. So if this was because of you or one of your ‘guards’ tell me now,” he said through clenched teeth. 

“Careful, Bell, or your hickeys won’t be the only bruises you collect tonight,” I threatened. He let go of me. My hand raised to my neck as I rubbed where he held. I cleared my throat as I pulled my cloak closer to me, hiding whatever marks were left by Bell’s tight grip. 

“I’ll deal with this. I need to talk with you. Tomorrow. First thing in the morning,” Bell said as he walked out of the dropship. He looked over his back at me, his features seeming softer than before. I let out a huff of breath before I left. 

I met up with Kai, more tired than ever. I leaned back against the tree as my eyes drooped close once again. “Don’t think I can’t see the bruises on your neck,” Kai said before I can fall into my deeply wanted slumber. 

“I like kinky sex. Fuck off,” I said as Kai laughed. 

“I don’t like him,” Kai said, referring to Bell, “He is not worth the effort you put in to make him happy.” 

“You don’t like anyone, Kai,” I said. I finally opened my eyes to look at him. His arm was sat upon the leg he propped up as he leaned against the tree, looking down on me. He shrugged as he laughed at me and my attitude. “Good night, Kai,” I said as I turned my back to him. It seems like it was just piss off Y/N day. Kai snickered before greeting me a good night. 

I woke up to a pebble being thrown at my face. I looked down to see Bellamy staring at me as he bounced a slightly bigger rock up and down in his palm. I groaned as I rolled over. I felt the rock hit my back before I sighed and dropped down from the tree. “What?” I said looking at him.

“Awww, is the princess still upset that I’m sleeping around?" He laughed as he proudly pulled his collar down to show me his hickey. We walked to our usual clearing as I sat down, taking my knives out so I could sharpen them as we talked. 

“No,” I said, “What I’m upset about is being awoken by the same idiot who decided to strangle me for saving one of his fucking people.” I threw my knife at the tree he stood next to. It stuck against the bark.

Bell took the knife out, moving it around in his hands to get a good look at it. I pulled my cloak down to show off the bruises from his tantrum the night before. “What do you want? You’re the one who wanted to talk, so fucking talk.” 

“I need to know what happened to Wells,” He said, “and... I want to know more about you.” I gave him a dull look. “You know, since we’re getting closer to each other we may as well find out more about each other.”

“Closer?” I asked, throwing my latest sharpened knife into the ground to join the rest. “We’re getting closer?” 

“Yeah. I mean I would think so considering you apparently get jealous when I sleep with other women-”

“And you get jealous when I simply mention that I have a male gaurd,” I smirked. He glared at me, but I wore my smug smile with pride. “Don’t you have an attempted murder case to solve?”

“We’ve already started on what we’re gonna do about the grounders-” 

“It wasn’t a grounder,” I said. He looked at me with confusion. 

“What do you mean? You said it wasn’t any of your people, so if it wasn’t a grounder then-” 

I looked up at him as I propped my elbows onto my knees and leaned forward. “It wasn’t a grounder. If a grounder was targeting him, he would have been dead when I found him. It. Was. Not. A. Grounder.” I stood up as I walked over to him, taking my knife back. “Was he anyone of importance? Come from a family of criminals? Killers? Wealth?” I paused before continuing, “Was... one of his parents... someone important? Someone with a lot of power?” 

Bellamy nodded. “His dad was the Chancellor. He-uh, he was the leader of our home. He... had a bunch of people killed for... ’crimes’,” he said, “Like my mom.” 

“Was? Is he dead?” I asked. Bellamy swallowed and looked at me with a haunted look. 

“I-I don’t know. I-A lot can happen in a few days,” Bell said stuttering and stumbling over his words. I gave him a weird look. 

“So... there must have been a lot of people that hated him. Considering you’re a camp full of criminals-” Bell cut me off before I could go any further.

“How do you know everyone here is a criminal?” Bell asked as he arched his brow and crossed his arms.

I froze. “I keep watch almost 24/7, Bell. There’s a lot I know about you people,” I said. It seemed believable. I guess it was considering Bell relaxed a bit and uncrossed his arms. “Anyways, so a lot people probably hate him. Or at least hate his father, but I mean- taking somebody that someone loves away... it can be much more effective than killing the person themselves.” 

“So you think it was one of the delinquents?” Bell asked. I nodded as I put my last knife back into its sheath. “A stab to the neck... the only other person I’ve seen do that would be Clarke. And if I remember correctly, she hated Wells. Says he ratted her dad out for some crime and got him killed.” My eyes widened at the information, but it couldn’t be her. I shook my head.

“Good motive, but she knows what she’s doing. Whoever stabbed Wells had no clue on what to do. If it was Clarke, saving Wells would have been impossible.” Bell nodded at me and continued to think it over. 

“Can you take me to where you found him?” I nodded and led the way. “On the way there we can talk about why you’re so upset about me being with other girls.” I rolled my eyes for what felt like the thousandth time since reuniting with Bell. I looked at him to see a mischievous grin on his face.

“I’m not upset that you sleep around. I don’t even know you! I have no reason to be upset that you sleep with other women,” I complained. 

“Good! I agree!” 

“Good!” 

It was silent for awhile while we walked through the woods. The only thing to be heard was the crunching of pebbles, dried leaves, and twigs underneath our feet with every step we took. 

“So then why were you so upset when you realized I was?” Bell asked as he caught up to me leaning over my shoulder to whisper into my ear. I groaned as I turned to face him with a stomp. 

“Why were you so upset that I have a male guard?” I asked, crossing my arms in front of my chest. Bell’s eyes widened as he froze in front of me.

Bell walked closer to me, so we were inches apart.“If you answer my question, I’ll answer yours.” I grunted and tried to turn away from him. “Come on! It can be fun! Like a game! I ask you 20 questions, and you ask me 20 questions, and we both have to answer truthfully! It’ll be a great way for us to get to know each other better!”

“I don’t need to know 20 things about you,” I said as I continued walking. I don’t remember the walk being this far!

“Alright then 15!” 

“3″

“10″

“3″

“8″

“3″ 

“I don’t think you know how compromises work,” Bell said as he stood in front of me to keep me from walking away.

“I don’t think you know how I work,” I said with a smirk and walked around him.

“I don’t! In fact I don’t know anything about you! Which is why we should ask each other 20 questions,” He said as he ran to my side. I glared at him as I blew a strand of loose hair out of my face.

“You’ve got 3. Choose wisely,” I said before walking away and over to where I had found Wells.

“Alright. How old are you?” Bell asked as I tried searching for any clues that could help us figure out anything. “I’m 23.”

“I am 22,” I answered while moving a shrub to the side, trying to see if any marks or traces of blood could be found. Nothing. “You seem to be the only person in your camp over the age of 18. Is there a reason for that?” 

“Um... back on the Ark, where we’re from, if you were above 18 and committed a crime you’d automatically be killed, but if you were under 18, you’d just be arrested until you turned 18. So anyone who is under 18 and committed a crime were known as delinquents. My sister is one of them, and she was chosen to get sent here, but I made a deal with one of the guards back home. If I did something for him, he would get me a spot on that ship, so I could protect her.” I nodded my head at his answer. He cleared his throat before he asked his next question. “So if I remember correctly, you said you founded your own ‘kingdom.’ But where are you from? Where did you come from before you left?” 

I couldn’t tell him I came from the Ark. I thought over my words carefully. “I stayed with Trikru for awhile before I got sick of being their tool. But that’s a story for another day...” I trailed off before going closer to the wall. I checked for any scratches, marks, or prints. Anything. “What did you do?” I asked Bell, “That favor, for the guard what did you do?”

Bell froze. “I don’t think I should tell you.” I looked at him with a hint of annoyance. I scoffed at him while we continued to search the area. “Alright, fine. I’ll tell you what I did if you tell me your name.” 

“Why are you so fascinated with my name?” I asked, frustrated that he kept bringing the question up. 

I saw a glint in the light between some bushes. I walked towards it, crouching down to get a closer look. It was a knife. I took a look at it as I toyed with it, tossing it between my hands. I then noticed the initials carved into the blade. J.M.

A twig snapped behind me and I instantly unsheathed my sword and stood up, turning to face the source of the sound only to see a familiar blonde. I retrieved my sword, letting out a sigh.

She looked at me with a shocked expression. She stood completely still and tense. I stuck my hand out to offer her a handshake. She hesitantly took it, her hand trembling as I grasped it. I nodded my head, letting go of her hand, before I introduced myself. 

“Nice to finally have a chat with you, Griffin. I’m-” I paused, “Well, Bell calls me Angel among other things, your people seem fond of ‘the masked maiden’, but feel free to call me whatever the hell you want,” I said as I winked, a smirk on my face as I used the phrase once said to me so long ago.  She nodded as she put on a kind smile. I heard Bellamy scoff from behind me as he walked away.

“What’s that?” Clarke asked gesturing to the knife in my hand. Her head tilted to the side as her brow arched. I looked down at the knife.

“I just found it. It might be the weapon used against the victim, but-” Clarke took the knife from me before I could finish. She took a close look at the knife before she looked up at Bell and me. 

“The grounders didn’t kill Wells,” she mumbled under her breath. She turned to look at us. “It was one of us. There’s a murderer in the camp.”

“Yeah, there’s several murderers in the camp. This isn’t news. We need to keep it quiet,” Bell said as he rubbed at his face. His frustration showing as he groaned at Clarke.

Bellamy tried to take the knife from Clarke, only for her to take a step back and hold the knife out of reach. She tried to walk past him, but Bell blocked her path, glaring at her. “Clarke,” he warned.

“Get out of my way, Bellamy,” she threatened through gritted teeth.

“Clarke, be smart about this. Look at what we've achieved… the wall, the patrols. Like it or not, thinking the Grounders killed Wells is good for us,” Bell argued as he stood as still as stone. He refused to get out of Clarke’s path no matter where she turned. However, she came to a halt at his words. 

“Oh, good for you, you mean. What? keep people afraid and they'll work for you? Is that it?” 

“Yeah. That's it. But it's good for all of us. Fear of the Grounders is building that wall. And besides, what are you gonna do… just walk out there and ask the killer to step forward? You don't even know whose knife that is,” Bell said. I mean he had a point. 

I would have kept it quiet for as long as possible. Even if I did know the killer, fear was a great source of motivation, and if it got what I needed done, then I’d use it for my advantage. In fact I have. Then it would be as simple as dealing with the criminal behind closed doors. Say they went missing, probably got captured by grounder too, and then they’d be even more motivated. I hadn’t realised how lost in thought I was until Clarke pushed past Bell and bumped into me.

“Oh, really? J.M. John Murphy. The people have a right to know,” Clarke said, before storming off. 

Tag List:

@the–real-wombat @jodiereedus22 @captainam-erika-trash@superflashallen @ilovelyai

[lonelypond]

Casual Lunacy, Ch. 52

Love Live, NicoMaki, 5k, 52/?

Summary: We meet some new people and Nico finally escapes her co-stars.

AfterShocks, Part 2

The door opened; Hanayo looked up. She’d gotten bored looking at the utilitarian walls, completely surreal after being in the middle of a reality that was cracking open and trying to grab her. But Hanayo needed a distraction so she didn’t just dwell on how Rin looked as Maki dragged her off, both werewolves burned and bleeding. So here it was, two new problems to deal with: a dark skinned woman, tan hair in an Afro, soft grey suit, followed by another woman, black hair in a severe bun, black pinstripe suit that seemed more suited to a Wall Street office than a police station. The first smiled, and her British accent made the the entire evening even more unreal, “Good evening, Ms. Koizumi. I’m Special Agent Davies and this is my partner, Marshal Tam.”

Hanayo tensed, she’d asked for her phone call, planning to call the Nishikinos, but received no response. And now, these two, obviously not Northwestern police officers apppeared.

“We have a few questions about your evening.” Agent Davies pulled out a chair on the opposite side of the table. Marshal Tam stood at ease by the door, one thumb casually hooked in her vest pocket, an odd gesture for someone so permanent pressed. “We’ve already reviewed the information you’ve given the FCC.” Davies smiled, “That’s actually the reason why we’re here now.”

Tam quirked an eyebrow, “This is when you might want to mention how very classified all this is.”

“Oh right. Silly me,” Davies’ grin got broader, “The Marshal is what you Americans call the ‘bad cop.”” A cough, “EVERYTHING you’ve discovered since you started working with” a quick glance at the file, “Kira, Todo, and Yuki is so top secret Netflix writers wish there were conspiracy theories about it they could steal.”

“Your analogies are fascinating, Mel.” Tam drawled.

“Should I have said Dr. Who?” Davies half turned.

“Always timely.” A flicked finger salute.

“Excuse me. Can I have my phone call now.” Hanayo was tired and sore and not in an indulgent mood. Wasn’t she on the right side of this?

“No.” Two voices, too quickly.

“You have very few rights here.” Tam stated.

“I was trying to stop them.” Hanayo couldn’t believe this.

Davies’ tone was almost sympathetic, “There is an unprecedented and pretty complete cockup here and you are right in the center. Whatever your initial intentions, you are now part of the problem.”

Hanayo lost her last shred of lingering optimism as she looked up into Tam’s unemotional, dark eyes and wondered how long this night was going to be.

####################################

The door opened in the small, mirrored room; Anju stared, wondering who was coming through. Erena, tall, hands in the pockets of her borrowed NU Police sweatshirt.

“Hey.” Erena waved, dark hair falling forward as she stooped a little. “Did they feed you? Mind if I sit?”

“Yeah…” Anju pushed her chair a little out from the wall, “Go ahead.”

Erena pulled a chair out from the table, “Did you tell them what happened?”

Anju crossed her arms over her chest, “I didn’t make any sense.” Her mouth tightened, “But it just seemed like I was confirming things for them. They didn’t pressure me.” She stared straight at Erena, eyes cloudy, “I think they actually believed me.”

Erena shrugged, “After the rest of this night, I believe you too.”

“Believe what?”

Erena considered, steepling her fingers together, trying to find appropriate words, “That you’re the woman I wanted to get to know, but not the woman I’ve been working with since Halloween.”

“What about the…”

“Magic?” Erena rubbed the bridge of her nose, “I have a feeling THEY will be telling us more about that.”

“Why?”

“Haven’t talked to any actual police; aren’t allowed to call a lawyer. We are obviously an above people’s paygrade problem.”

Anju scooted her chair a little closer to the table, “Then why did you talk to them?”

Erena leaned back, scuffed boots crossed at the ankles. “This is way outside of what I ever intended to do. Those weren’t special effects.” She raised a leg, pointing above her knee, where a rip was scorched in her black jeans, “Every substance had heat and weight and properties. Maybe we broke something.” Legs back to stretched out, eyes staring at the ceiling. “If we did, they might know how to fix it.”

#############################################

It wasn’t exactly frantic pounding, Dr. Nishikino thought as her very solid front door shuddered, more like very determined. She’d changed into comfortable clothes, not intending to sleep until they’d managed to get Hanayo out of police custody. Both werewolves were cleaning up, Maki in the master bath, Rin in the largest guest room. As she headed for the door, Dr. Nishikino heard a howl, then a thump. She opened the door, Nico stepped inside, said “Where’s Maki?” and got tackled by a soaking wet wolf, snuffling all over Nico’s body. Nico fell with a grunt, but immediately wrapped her arms around Maki, hugging the werewolf so tightly Maki whined a little. Dr. Nishikino stepped around to close the door and went back to the kitchen, where she was making a pot of coffee and warming cookies.

“What happened to you, pretty girl?” Nico let tender fingers lightly trail over the burned fur surrounding Maki’s mouth.

Maki responded with growling, whimpering, and a triumphant howl, which Rin echoed from upstairs, sounding weaker than usual.

“So the bad guys didn’t win. Good.” Nico hugged tighter.

Maki howled proudly.

Nico lying on the floor, arms around the werewolf on top of her, chuckled, as Maki’s amethyst eyes glowed at her. “Yes, Nico is very impressed. Nico will be even more impressed when Maki TALKS and tells her the whole story.”

“Kayo-chin’s stoooopid boss ripped apart everything, burned Maki, stabbed me, made Kayo-chin disappear, cloned herself, then got dragged down a hole by a pit monster.” Rin appeared at the top of the stairs, towelling off her hair, dressed in a pair of sweats and a long sleeve t-shirt. They fit so she must keep clothes here too, Nico realized. Nico also realized that proximity to werewolf fresh out of the bath had soaked through her coat to her clothes.

“Nico needs to change.” Nico let Maki go, sitting up. Maki sprinted eagerly up the stairs, turning at the halfway point to stick her tongue out at Nico.

Rin hipchecked her bff, “Don’t forget about Kayo-chin.”

Maki snorted.

Nico laughed. Cute werewolves being safe and silly was exactly what she needed right now.

#######################################

Casey Alvarez sighed, glancing at her phone again. Tsubasa was waiting. Everyone else had gone off to change or finish shutting things down for the evening, but Tsubasa had lingered.

“Nico’s not pressing charges, but there are a couple of people who want to talk to you tonight.” Alvarez’s expression was wry, “Things always go better if you walk in voluntarily.”

Tsubasa grunted, “Is that your professional, off duty cop, friend of Nico advice?”

“Nope.” Alvarez hardened her stance and her voice, “That would have been don’t rig dangerous traps in set pieces your co workers have to use.”

“Yeah.” Tsubasa kicked at something. “That’s a point.”

“I don’t know exactly what’s happening” Alvarez rubbed her temples, “Which I always hate. But I talked to somebody at the FCC who talked to somebody somewhere I can’t even know the name of who just texted me that I should escort you to the Campus Police, if you’re still here…”

Tsubasa sniggered, ignoring the opening Alvarez might have left her. “Am I getting shipped to Roswell?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Alvarez’s voice was flat.

“Can I file a missing persons report on myself in advance?” Tsubasa’s voice was taunting, her green eyes sparkling at Alvarez.

“Whatever, chica.” Alvarez’s easy dismissal of her tease just amused Tsubasa. “Your friends are there.”

“Yeah.” Tsubasa picked up her coat, “Do you have to cuff me?”

“Nope. Just have to walk my wife to our car, if you don’t mind.”

“Nope.” Tsubasa wrapped a scarf around her neck, “Let’s get this over with.”

##########################################

Davies pushed the transcript toward Hanayo. “So you’re certain it was a different Anju?

“Yes.”

“And the werewolves can confirm this?”

The question was dropped in so casually Hanayo was almost caught, but the habit of more than half a lifetime kept Rin’s secret safe.

Davies leaned forward, “We know about your fiancée. And the Nishikino girl.”

Hanayo remained silent.

“Our branch of the Marshals has been tracking werewolf family lines for centuries.” Tam added, “Like every other American citizen, they have rights, and we can only intervene if they break the law or present a deadly threat.”

Hanayo shrugged with disinterest, picked up a pen and started reading through her typed statement.

“The best way to protect her is from the inside.” Tam continued.

Hanayo frowned, upper lip hinting scowl, “What do you mean?”

Tam answered bluntly, “You’ve been very impressive, picking up the science so rapidly.”

Davies chuckled, “And you can obviously keep a secret.”

“And you seem to have a good working relationship with…”

“That’s not true,” Now Hanayo could start to let some of the anxiety fuel anger. They obviously wanted something from her.

“Whether or not there was friction, the four of you were effective. You basically created and survived your own boot camp. We need women like you in the program.”

“What program?” . “Think of this as a job interview.” The Agent and the Marshall had dropped the topic of werewolves; Hanayo wouldn’t be bringing it up.

###############################################

Nico had been shoved into Maki’s room by the very insistent werewolf. Maki dripping on her tights, Nico pulled out a few things to change into, then started undressing. Before she could even get out of her skirt, Maki was there, naked, skin cold and damp, with very very human hands, ignoring the usual progression of zippers and other fasteners to rip through fabric to get to Nico. Active as she was, Maki was still chilled and trembling, so Nico guided them both to the bed, raising Maki’s blanket over their shoulders. Once there was a warming cocoon, Nico grabbed one of Maki’s hands.

“Slow down, pretty girl. Nico wants to know what happened.” Nico could see healing cuts, scrapes, and burns all over Maki. What had the werewolf gotten into, a firefight? Were there bullet wounds or something? What exactly had Rin said? Hanayo’s bosses. As the impatient redhead whimpered, Nico ran her hands over Maki’s skin, feeling for open wounds. “Who did this?”

Maki shook her head, pushing into Nico’s shoulder, whining plaintively. Nico wondered if something had happened to Maki’s voice. A growling kiss disrupted her thoughts.

Nico responded, but then she wrapped both arms around Maki again and dropped them both back to the bed, “Maki, what happened? Who did all this? Nozomi said Erena..”

A huge inhale by Maki and Nico’s mouth was full of wet, red hair with metallic smoke taste as Maki flopped into her girlfriend’s side. Her arrival must have interrupted Maki before shampooing, Nico guessed. Now to get some kind of verbal response before Maki stressed back into wolf form.

“Were you in a fire?” Nico wondered.

Whine. Nope not fire.

“Help Nico out here, pretty girl.” Knowing how sensitive Maki was to moods, Nico took care to just enjoy the feel of being close to Maki, not letting worry or impatience interfere with the tactile pleasures of warm, cozy lover. “Talk to me.”

Maki just snuggled closer. Nico could feel her warming up, which was good. A knock on the door; no response from Maki, so Nico answered, “Come in.”

Maki’s mother stuck her head in, staring at her daughter for a moment, then meeting Nico’s glance, “Maki’s father is here so we’re going to take Rin to the police station and meet with the lawyer. She hasn’t been able to talk to Hanayo yet, but is going through some kind of Non Disclosure Agreement before Hanayo signs it.”

Maki whiffled, moving even closer to Nico, who could feel the fur against her torso as Maki shifted, changing. Then Maki howled a chiding series of notes at her mother.

Nico glanced down at the russet and cream head now blowing warm, drooling breaths across her chin and wondered how much of a crisis just asking Dr. Nishikino what was going on would cause.

“Ummmm…” it didn’t help if Nico ouldn’t figure out the right question.The shaggy foreleg angled across her diaphragm had her trapped under the covers, which was fine, because Nico needed more clothes before being seen by anybody not Maki.

“Maki was frantic when she arrived, and her wounds were pretty bad.” Dr. Nishikino volunteered information as Nico struggled to phrase a question, “Serious healing takes up a lot of energy. My daughter is much less verbal when she’s exhausted.”

Maki howled at her mother, an annoyed note.

“Sorry. Maki communicates quite clearly, but when tired she tends not to use words.” Dr. Nishikino sounded amused, “Does that answer meet with your approval?”

Maki’s more agreeable howl was quieter than the others had been. Nico could feel the werewolf starting to relax, her breaths slowing. “I’ll take care of things here.” Nico whispered, not wanting to stir up Maki.

A wry smile crossed Dr. Nishikino’s face. Maki had made it quite clear who she intended to be comforted by, “Raid the refrigerator for anything you want, Nico. I hear you had a crazy night yourself.”

Nico was stroking gently Maki’s fur, cheek resting against Maki’s head, only half paying attention to the conversation, “Nico will turn into a great story sometime.”

“I look forward to hearing it. I’ll text you when we know more about Hanayo.” Dr. Nishikino closed the door.

“Thanks.”

####################################

Hanayo was standing, wanting her phone, knowing Rin was there with Maki’s Dad but not able to see her yet. The Nishikinos had gotten in touch with Abril Cohen, a lawyer who actually had the clearances required to negotiate with Agent Davies and Marshall Tam so Hanayo had opted to take a brief break from legal speak as some details were worked out based on the list she’d given Cohen.

The door opened and Erena and the other Anju walked in, Erena striding confidently up to Hanayo, Anju more tentative.

“Koizumi.” Erena extended her hand. Hanayo’s dubious expression didn’t discourage Erena, who refused to pull back, “Look, I’m sorry this happened, Koizumi. I had no idea what she was planning. It was supposed to be data collection. I should have recognized that everything was getting out of control.”

“Tsubasa.” Hanayo nearly spat. Anju glanced confused from one to the other.

Erena raised both her hands in a sign of surrender, “The werewolf hunt thing was completely on her. I say live and let live and I told her that.”

Anju sat down, remembering the evening’s scenes, the two what she thought were dogs, were they werewolves?!?!?...what else was actually real in this world. Erena immediately noticed her discomfort and put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Anju?”

“What’s her deal anyway?” Hanayo knew it was a different woman, but it was hard not to seethe with resentment.

“The other Anju put her in some kind of suspended animation during Pumpkin Prom. I guess she had the ability to make herself look our age and hypnotized Anju into telling her enough details for a start. Magical identity theft.” Erena’s voice warmed with an atypical flare of annoyance. “After that was when we stopped talking about how to measure paranormal activity theoretically and began to build tools.” Erena squeezed Anju’s shoulder, “I’d started designing a few after our Ghostbusters conversation.

Anju smiled, “I started designing better hazard suits. With a little style.”

Watching them flirt, a frowning Hanayo became decisive. “I want to see Rin.” She said as if convincing herself, moving to the door and banging. After several minutes, Marshall Tam stepped in.

“I want to see Rin.” Hanayo repeated.

“You’ll have to wait…” Tam started.

Hanayo’s eyes were feverish and she left barely any space for comprehension between her rushed words. “Bring Rin in here now or you can fight Maki’s lawyer after you put me in whatever deep pit you want because if I don’t see Rin in two minutes, I am never ever helping you.”

There was a staring match. Anju and Erena watched curiously, Erena surprised by a Hanayo she thought mild’s fight. Tam turned on her heel without a word. Hanayo kept an eye on the clock and then 97 seconds after Tam left, Rin bounded in, grabbing Hanayo in a hug that lifted her off the floor. “Kayo-chin!”

Mel Davies frowned at her partner as they stood outside the door listening to Rin shout happily. Three years together dealing with Quantum Extra Consciousness hotspots all over the world had not endeared her to Tam’s not rare enough flashes of eccentricity.

Davies cleared her throat, “So you’re going to play this one by something other than the established protocols?”

Tam shrugged, “In love with a werewolf or a dryad or a …” A wink, “We’ve all been there.”

Davies paced. This whole situation was going to rewrite the manual, which would probably be her next tiresome task, “You have never been funny.”

“I have never tried.” Tam leaned against the wall, watching Davies fidget.

“You realize we’re probably going to get a werewolf added to this bloody team.” Davies recognized that smile. It was Tam’s “I’ve won at chess” smile.

“Oops.” said the Cheshire Marshal.

#######################################

Umi and Honoka exchanged a glance. Kotori was in their walk in closet, removing clothes from hangers and either tossing them in a pile or putting them on a different hanger and then moving them to another part of the closet.

Umi spoke first, “Kotori? Can we assist you in any way.”

Kotori shook her head, ducking it, and making a small, unhappy noise. Two sets of eyebrows shot up, this was serious. Honoka made broad gestures, encouraging Umi to follow her out of their bedroom. Umi finally nodded agreement, but touched Kotori’s shoulder before leaving, “We will return shortly.”

Kotori ‘dropped’ a hanger on the floor, nearly knicking Umi’s toes. Umi skipped back, not taking her eyes off Kotori until she had to negotiate the stairs because Honoka had started dragging her down them.

“Umi Umi Umi, what are we going to do? Kotori’s so mad…”

Umi was puzzled. “But who is she mad at? I got her favorite cheesecake after you texted me. Did you do something”

“Umi…” Honoka winced and Umi felt a little guilty for her doubt.

And then Honoka went into a blaze of motion, orange hair flopping over her bright blue eyes as she shook her hands in front of her, “It was so crazy, Umi. Nico got locked in a coffin, half the cast got dragged into a room with Nico’s cute cop friend, and Kashima and Eli and Deidre and Ami didn’t get out of costume until like 15 minutes ago. And I think Kashima tore off some buttons. And Anju never showed up. And Erena left and…”

Umi grabbed Honoka’s hands, holding them tightly until her extremely excitable girlfriend slowed to silence.

“Who is Kotori upset at?” Umi needed specifics, not a flood of speculation.

Honoka eyebrows furrowed as she tried to work it out, “Mostly Anju I think. I tried to help, but there’s a lot of work.” Honoka flopped on the couch, “You actually have to know where everything goes.”

Umi sighed, “That is to be expected. There are more than thirty people in the cast and most have multiple costume changes. Poor Kotori.” Umi glanced upstairs.

“I think the director fired people.” Honoka scratched her head, “Maybe. Or they were getting arrested. Or Nico was hitting them.”

“What?” Umi’s attention immediately shifted back to Honoka.

“Well, Nico hit Kashima. But it wasn’t a big deal.” Honoka paused again. “But Officer...Alvarez was talking with a real serious face to Professor Asuka and walking one of the stagehands out, Tsubasa, I think.”

That would make sense, Umi realized. Maki’s friends had been worried about Tsubasa’s interest in Nico.

“How can we help Kotori?” Umi sat next to Honoka, hands clasped.

Honoka thought for a moment. “Hang costumes tomorrow if Anju doesn’t show. Too many actors leave ‘em lying around.”

“Perfect.” Umi grasped Honoka’s closest hand, raised it to her lips, and kissed it softly, “We will assist Kotori by taking over the more onerous tasks.” Umi considered. “Or I will.”

“What about me? I can help.” Honoka chirped, happy Umi agreed with her idea.

“We will ask the Professor if there is a job more suited to your talents.”

“Ooh, good idea.” Honoka mimicked a hand over hand action, “I could open the curtains.”

“I believe that’s automated, Honoka.”

“Oh…” Disappointed, Honoka dropped her head on Umi’s shoulder, “What do we do now?”

“Wait until Kotori wants her cheesecake.”

“Yeah.”

###################################

Rin was back to fidgeting with the Doctors Nishikino in the hall; Hanayo was leaning forward at the table, watching intently; Erena was relaxed, leaning back; Anju was slumping in her chair, exhausted; Abril Cohen was ticking off points with a pen, with Marshal Tam opposite her and Agent Davies observing from a corner seat.

“So this is where we are: you, an intergovernmental task force, are going to sponsor these three plus Tsubasa Kira…”

“I am not signing anything or going anywhere without Rin.” Hanayo insisted stubbornly.

“There isn’t a provision for that.” Tam said simply.

“If I’m a government employee and get transferred, can I take my wife?” Hanayo pressed.

Davies glanced at Tam, who made a grimace, “You don’t have a wife.”

“I will.” Hanayo crossed her arms.

“We could send you to prison. Or just walk you out of here handcuffed between us, Ms. Koizumi.” Davies pointed out.

“For helping you find out about this?” Hanayo’s voice was shrill, but with outrage not fear.

“Yes.” Tam snarled.

Hanayo paled, but didn’t waver, “Rin comes with me. If you want us to recreate what they…” Hanayo glared at Erena and Anju, “were doing and restart the Princeton Engineering Anomalies program…” here Hanayo hesitated, still wary about sharing Rin’s secret, “werewolf senses will help.”

Erena shifted, “She’s probably right. I wonder what all that felt like for…” Erena hesitated, wondering if the room also knew about the redhead, “Hanayo’s fiancée. It would be a useful perspective.”

Although Anju was still wary of Hanayo, she decided to join the consensus, “Koizumi’s fiancée is probably more useful than I am right now.” That admission surprised Hanayo and Erena leaned forward in support as Anju continued to speak, “I understand I’m the only link to this other…”

“Pocket of Quantum Extra Consciousness…” Davies offered.

“You really need a better vocabulary for this.” Erena

Davies and Tam shared a look, then the Marshal spoke. “We don’t disagree.”

“It’ll be part of your job.” Davies stated, then muttered, “if I have any say.”

Anju repeated her statement when the room went quiet, “I understand I’m the only link, but I don’t have any of her practical knowledge.”

“But you can learn.” Erena’s response was quick.

“And…” Anju’s head fell, and she shivered a little, “I want to, so I can...so I can...understand what she did to me. And the werewolf could accelerate our discovery process.”

Davies had her phone out and was typing quickly, “What about Tsubasa? There was a lot of mutual animosity mentioned by both parties during their interviews.”

“Take her out in handcuffs.” Hanayo mumbled. Tam almost let herself seem amused, Davies’ nod was a confirmation of her point.

“I’ll talk to her.” Erena turned to Hanayo, “She’s not really a terrible person.”

“Hmmmpphhh…” Hanayo began to smolder, fingers tapping an angry rhythm. Abril Cohen decided to intervene.

“So my client is not committing to anything unless you agree to also transfer her wife to Princeton University, with status equal to the other parties to this arrangement. Is that correct, Hanayo?”

Hanayo nodded, maintaining eye contact with Tam.

“Do you want me to talk to Tsubasa?” Davies slid her phone into her pocket.

“Yes.” Tam answered, standing, “Come with me, Koizumi, and see if your future wife agrees to this.”

#################################

This was not one of Tsubasa’s better nights. When Nico’s girlfriend had landed on top of her, snarling, starting to shift like the characters in Ginger Snaps, Tsubasa had a new, visceral understanding of fear. But then the werewolf had stopped, more concerned with saving Nico than eviscerating Tsubasa. Which was unexpected and confusing and did ABSOLUTELY nothing to cut the complete terror at the thought of being that close to the woman again. Tsubasa fell into a chair, head in her hands, trying to remember how all of this had started. Too many late nights, too many energy drinks, too much Lovecraft, too much imagination, and then the tantalizing thought of knowing things no one else did. But that had all fled with the weight of claws against her throat and very human rage in unnatural green eyes. And with Nico locked in a coffin…

Door banged open, Agent Davies walked in, brows lowered over tiger’s eye irises. “Hello again, Ms. Kira.”

“Can I go home yet?” If you don’t ask you don’t get, Tsubasa told herself.

“No. But nice try.” Davies pulled out a chair, leaned forward, elbows on the table, “How do you feel about werewolves?”

“Terrified.” Tsubasa raised her head, “Why?”

“Want one for a co worker?”

Tsubasa’s expression straddled curious and aggravation. “Is it the one that wanted to gut me?”

“No.”

“Will agreeing get me out of here?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Tsubasa dropped her head back into her hands.

“It’s Koizumi’s fiancée.” Davies had her phone out again, checking her notes.

“Oh, that’s why Hanayo was so fond of me…”

“Well spotted.”

“Is she going to gut me?”

“The fiancée?”

“Koizumi.”

“She has, in practice, agreed not to by expressing a willingness, though reluctant, to work with you as long as we agree to her conditions.”

“The werewolf.”

“Yes.”

Tsubasa thought for a moment, then repeated “Okay.” Leaning forward, nose over Davies’s phone, “Co-worker?”

Davies grinned and pulled her phone back. “Longer story. What do you think of New Jersey?”

##############################################

Tam had led them to a room with a couch so Hanayo sat down and leaned against Rin, not saying anything for several minutes. Rin, after her initial sniff through Kayo-chin’s hair, picking up exhaustion, worry, frustration, just enjoyed the sensation of being close to each other. Eventually, they ended up lying side by side, Rin realizing how tired she was but too curious about what Hanayo was holding back to actually drift off.

“I’m glad you’re safe, Rin.” Hanayo whispered.

“Me too.” Rin’s voice boomed, “That was too scary.”

“Too scary?” Hanayo smelled furtive, like she had when she was keeping her job from Rin.

“Only when you told Maki to drag me off.” Rin sat up, proud, leaning back onto her arms. “I can handle anything. Kayo-chin doesn’t have to worry when I’m there.”

“I know.” Hanayo smiled, turning on her side to watch Rin, “I always feel safe with you.”

Rin knew Hanayo so well she didn’t need her nose to tell her that her mate was about to tell her something she was afraid Rin would be upset about.

“Just tell me, Kayo-chin.” Hanayo flopped over, face in her arms, while Rin nudged her, “I know you're nervous. It'll be okay.”

“Marry me.” Hanayo squeaked.

“I already said yes, did you forget? Did something fall on your head?” Rin started sniffing through Hanayo’s hair again, wondering if she’d missed an injury.

“No,” Hanayo giggled, Rin’s quick movements were tickling her. “How’d you like to be a tiger?”

Rin sat back, her face serious, “That’d be cool but people would be scared if I turned into a tiger. Now they think I’m a dog and everybody loves dogs.”

Hanayo laughed, falling into Rin, “I love you.” Then she took both of Rin’s hands, violet eyes determined as she looked over the glasses that had slid down her nose, “We’re getting married Saturday, Rin, and moving to Princeton.”

“You want to be a tiger?” Rin asked, not sure what this was about.

Hanayo forced herself not to glance away. Rin’s eyes were as honest and accepting as always so Hanayo let herself be brave and spoke the truth. “I want to know more about everything that happened tonight. I have an opportunity to do that. And I want you there with me.”

Rin thought quickly. She shouldn’t be surprised. When things caught Hanayo’s attention, she dove right in. At least this time she’d learned enough that she was willing to take Rin with her when the stuff was scary. There was only one answer.

“All right, Kayo-chin. If you go, I go.” Rin bumped forward, glomping onto Hanayo, “I love you.”

Hanayo felt every burden she’d been feeling ease as Rin embraced her, “I love you too.”

A/N: Wow, this chapter.

Hi.

[geetrick]

70 horrible questions ask: 1-70 like.. I want to know everything... If there's more than one option i'm over asked, but you said you need distraction, so I want to help you.

Thanks, man! It's appreciated!This was fun! Also, I realized that I'm really negative and that I have very messed up dreams. Good to know.01: Do you have a good relationship with your parents?Sort of. They're nice people, it's just that they're really conservative and I live in a really liberal state, so I'm constantly trying to pick out the difference between "good" and "bad" based off what they say and what everyone else says. I'm just convinced everyone is lying to me at this point.02: Who did you last say “I love you” to?This is gonna sound kinda weird (and really sad because it happened a week or so ago and I don't remember saying to anyone recently before that), but Gray. I forget what we were talking about, but, yeah. That happened (platonically).03: Do you regret anything?All of elementary school. I was just a complete idiot up until I was twelve. Now I'm just a regular idiot.04: Are you insecure?Yes.05: What is your relationship status?I have a girlfriend. The only problem is I'm really busy, so I end up ditching her a lot, so idk if she's still gonna like me in two months. :/06: How do you want to die?Quickly and painlessly.07: What did you last eat?I'm literally eating a pizza rn.08: Played any sports?I swim. That's actually why I've been so busy/inactive recently. Sorry.09: Do you bite your nails?Only when I'm stressed. So a lot.10: When was your last physical fight?I can't remember. I'm too tiny to fight.11: Do you like someone?There's my gf, and it would be kinda weird if I didn't like her.12: Have you ever stayed up 48 hours?Yep, it was painful.13: Do you hate anyone at the moment?You can't consider someone an enemy if you don't consider them in the first place.14: Do you miss someone?My friends. I don't see them as much as I want to.15: Have any pets?A cat. His name is Rusty!16: How exactly are you feeling at the moment?I honestly don't know.17: Ever made out in the bathroom?At first I read this as "Ever made it out of the bathroom?" lol. I avoid public bathrooms like the plague.18: Are you scared of spiders?No living thing should be allowed to have more than six legs.19: Would you go back in time if you were given the chance?I think there's a reason we leave the past behind.20: Where was the last place you snogged someone?I've never, like, intensely kissed anyone. There's nowhere private enough and no one I've ever liked enough to do that with in public.21: What are your plans for this weekend?Sleep and try not to die.22: Do you want to have kids? How many?I'm not even gonna think that far ahead.23: Do you have piercings? How many?I don't have any at all. Like, not even the ears. I kinda want something on the eyebrow though.24: What is/are/were your best subject(s)?Math and the sciences.25: Do you miss anyone from your past?Yes, mostly my grandpa...26: What are you craving right now?A hug.27: Have you ever broken someone’s heart?People don't typically like me that much.28: Have you ever been cheated on?No.29: Have you made a boyfriend/girlfriend cry?Not as far as I know.30: What’s irritating you right now?People being people.31: Does somebody love you?I like to think that.32: What is your favourite color?Black/pink/white/gold33: Do you have trust issues?I'm convinced most people lie to me, so technically.34: Who/what was your last dream about?I dream a lot, but I barely remember them most the time. In the last one I do remember, I think I met Patrick Stump, I think he was mad at me because I (rather horrifically) murdered his family, and I think he stabbed me.Also, now that I'm remembering this, I just thought should point out that children shouldn't be able to bleed that much and small people scream very loud. (What is wrong with me?)35: Who was the last person you cried in front of?My mom.36: Do you give out second chances too easily?Textbook definition pushover.37: Is it easier to forgive or forget?Forgive, but I prefer to forget.38: Is this year the best year of your life?That was last year.39: How old were you when you had your first kiss?14.40: Have you ever walked outside completely naked?No? Why would I do this?51: Favourite food?Anything with chocolate.52: Do you believe everything happens for a reason?Yes.53: What is the last thing you did before you went to bed last night?Write and delete 1000 words of a Petekey fic.54: Is cheating ever okay?If you would willingly cheat, the other person deserves better.55: Are you mean?I'm an asshole if that counts.56: How many people have you fist fought?Nada.57: Do you believe in true love?I think it at least exists sometimes.58: Favourite weather?Rain. Maybe with lightning?59: Do you like the snow?Never really see it where I live.60: Do you wanna get married?Probably.61: Is it cute when a boy/girl calls you baby?I think it is.62: What makes you happy?Not having to worry about anything.63: Would you change your name?I've considered it, but probably not. I like my name.64: Would it be hard to kiss the last person you kissed?Not really. We get along and the kiss we kinda platonic anyway.65: Your best friend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do?I don't really have a gender that you could be the opposite of, so I'm gonna to the opposite of my agab. Laugh, because everyone already thinks he likes me (he doesn't).66: Do you have a friend of the opposite sex who you can act your complete self around?Same guy I mentioned above. He's a pretty chill dude and probably the gayest straight person I've ever met.67: Who was the last person of the opposite sex you talked to?My dad, technically.68: Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with?My mom. Idk how I felt about it though.69: Do you believe in soulmates?Yes. I like believing that there's a person out there that will put up with me forever.70: Is there anyone you would die for? Most of the people I consider my close friends.

[pocketsizedsam-blog1]

Reminiscing The Past

Sam x Reader x Dean

Word count: 1k

warnings: mentions of sexual assault and rape, abuse, swearing 

Sometimes it's a good thing, to look back on past memories, watch home videos, look at family photos, to see how much you've changed... Unless you're a Winchester. The family tree is broken. The memories ruined. No home videos and it was painful to look the photographs which contain little Dean and baby Sammy, angelic Mary Winchester and a poor excuse for a father, John Winchester. You could never say that to Sam and Dean's faces, but overall they gave you a home. Your family was much worse than the Winchesters. Your life sucked. Looking at your family photos was like looking at mug shots for your father. At least John actually cared for his boys, unlike the father you had up your ass. He beat you daily, and on 'special' occasions sexually. John had saved you back in that bar, where you worked as a slave and an involuntary slut. You were forever grateful to the wondrous Winchesters for taking you in, but unsure if you could ever trust somebody, especially a man, the way you did when you were younger.

"Hey!" A voice startled you, ripping you from your thoughts. "Y/N, hello where are you?"

"Right here, Sam, being stabbed with a fork..." You chuckled.

"Oh come on, that was barely a nudge. Whatcha thinking about?"

"It's nothing really." You brushed it off.

"Oh really, Y/N? Seriously?" You knew Sam could tell something was bothering you.

To make things worse Dean entered the room.

"Aw, what's wrong sweet cheeks?" He teased.

"Nothing!" You fumed, slamming the fork down onto the table, which you were using to eat your 'rabbit food', as Dean called it.

"Hey, somethings wrong. We are just worried, babe, what's going on in that beautiful little noggin of yours?" Sam looked at you, concern in his eyes.

"Just thinking about my past. Where I went wrong as a daughter that caused my father to beat me and fuck me." You looked at the ground, crying the boys a river.

Sam jumped up from his seat and got down on one knee right in front of you. He took your hands down from your face, which you were using to hide your tears.

"You did nothing wrong." He barked sternly. "He was an asshole, who did very unforgivable things to such a beautiful person."

"You make me sound like a saint." You laughed slightly.

"In my eyes, you are perfect, Y/N and he was a drunk, who is sick bastard and thought it would be fun to go at his own daughter. He's never going to hurt you again, and you don't need to look back on the bad things in your past. It only upsets you." He hugged you tightly.

Dean smiled, "do you remember when dad picked us up those water guns in the summer of... Hmm lets see, '96? And we waited until he got home to use them?"

"Oh my god... YES! We soaked your dad and the interior of baby because we couldn't wait for him to come in." You exclaimed.

"We also got grounded for two weeks." Sam chuckled.

"Yeah, that was when you and Y/N were playing kissy face in the closet when dad wasn't home and I was in charge." Dean frowned.

"We were 14 years old, what else did you expect out of teenagers?" You laughed.

"Then you put us through hell cause when you found out, you went crying to dad and I got 'the' talk." Sam grimaced.

"Hey! That was fun to watch, you looked disgusted!" Dean laugh to kill himself.

"Do you remember that dreamy blonde haired, blue eyed boy I really liked in ninth grade? The one who pushed me into a ditch and almost raped me, cause I wouldn't go out on a date with him?"

"Yes." Sam gritted his teeth.

"I scream and bawled. I thought nobody was going to hear me. Until I heard the roar of that 1967 Chevy impala's engine. John hopped out of the front seat and beat the shit out of that boy. Nearly killed him! Then I knew I was saved." The boys chuckled a little. "Do you remember how I couldn't sleep alone?" "Umm .. yeah! When dad wasn't around you'd have sleep with both me AND Sam in dad's queen sized bed at the motel."

"And then we got grounded again because we wrecked the place." Sam laughed. "We were rebellious kids!"

"When Sam was four, Y/N, he thought he was superman and jumped off the top of the barn." Dean teased.

"I was four - and my older brother was doing it. So obviously I wanted to try too!"

"You thought you could fly!!" Dan slapped his hands together in happiness.

"That got me a broken arm." Sam frowned in dismay.

"You idgit!" You laughed harder than you ever had.

"Do remember when Dean stole dad's liquor when he was seventeen?" Sam smiled devilishly toward you.

"I do remember, that earned him an ass reddening, considering he came home stoned. We may have been in the closet but drinking was ten times worse!" It was your turn to be the tease.

"See... We had some good in our child hoods too, water gun fights with the old man, being superman, getting drunk, going into the closet..." Sam smiled softly towards you, making you blush. "we did have good times, just not very often."

"Yeah they are about as scarce as a blue moon." You stared at Sam blankly.

"Whatever! They were there! And we are making memories now! Great ones!" Sam kissed you.

"Ugh, okay you two get a fricken room! Gross!"

The man you loved deepened the kiss, just to annoy Dean.

"Do you remember when dad banned Y/N from having boyfriends? That was funny! She was a moody, teenaged girl who wanted a guy to make her feel nice." Dean taunted.

"When really all I had to do was look in front of me, I already had someone treating me like a princess. A little boy named Sammy Winchester. I don't know why I felt the need to have a boyfriend!"

"You were rebellious and wanted to go against what dad said!" Dean poked fun at you, yet again.

"You are hilarious!" You smirked, playfully hitting Dean's shoulder. "Just hilarious!"

You three had a nice stroll down memory Lane, making new memories as you go.