#but my sympathy for anyone go down by ten points per calls

[kohakuhibiki]

How can people work full time and have patience for anything else?

[kojinnie]

Something About Pain | Reiner Braun

Pairing: Reiner Braun x Reader (she/her pronoun)

Summary: You ran away from home and your boyfriend Reiner Braun is desperate to bring you home. When the two of you meet, you share a conversation about how pain inflicts the two of you differently.

Tags & Warning: Angst, (eventual) fluff, (mild) hurt/comfort, slow burn, major miscommunication problem, past trauma, abandonment issue, mention of anxiety, Reiner is a grumpy, hurt individual yet delicate inside | SFW

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: Based on the request by @okubean for Twisted Match-Up! I hope you like it, boo! (More A/N at the end of the fic)

.::My Masterlist::.

Twisted Match-Up (x Reader): Zeke | Hange | Jean 

There was a vivid look of worry on the face of Reiner Braun as he drove through the empty neighborhood streets. His right hand on the steering wheel, the other one tapping anxiously on the phone, dialing the same number over and over again to no avail.

All of his calls had gone straight to your mailbox, and his text messages were no longer delivered. Reiner came to realize that you've blocked him. "Idiot," he muttered to himself, cursing this whole modern affinity to accommodate people running from their problems easier. Reiner thought the feature was the stupidest thing ever created by humankind, he was pissed, but more annoyed. He realized how tired he was, and if he could, he'd rather be in bed right now. Not roaming your friend's neighborhood at ungodly hour.

"Where... the fuck... are you..." he was pissed, evident from the grunt as he tried one final desperate attempt to call you. It went straight to your mailbox. Your cheery voice didn't make him feel any better, if any, Reiner wished he could tell the mailbox-you to shut the hell up.

Reiner finally hit the brake, sighing annoyed. His black SUV stopped underneath the streetlamp, at a random neighborhood he could only vaguely remember. He had been here before, when he picked you up from your bestfriend's house after one of your "night out" with your friends from college, but he could barely remember which one of these identical suburban houses did she live.

He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, racking his brain trying to remember the house number. Is this even the correct cul-de-sac? There are tens others. Who the fuck came up with the concept of suburban housing? Strips and strips of uniformed houses. And even worse, who the fuck thought that it was such a great idea to live in one? Like some Stepford Wives nightmare. Reiner couldn't believe some people would save up money for all their lives to pay off their mortgage to live in complete conformity, like a communist utopia with capitalist credit system. Were these people right in the head or had their brains fucked over by the boring 9 to 5 jobs they've had for decades?

That's beside the point. Reiner sighed. He ranted a lot when frustrated.

He knew you'd be there, in one of these houses, curled up crying in your bestfriend's bed, perhaps pouring your heart out on how much of a bad boyfriend Reiner was. He knew because you've passed the micro-aggression millionth times, muttering under your breath, saying that you'd be fine if Reiner kicks you out because your bestfriend would take you. What kind of fuckery was all that? Why would he ever kick you out? Reiner thought. He was clueless. Why were you so adamant that he would leave you eventually? Reiner could feel his annoyance grew while reminiscing your antics. He began to think, maybe he had never understood you to begin with.

But Reiner was wrong, because he was right about a lot of things about you. You were exactly in your bestfriend's house, curled up in her bed, ranting how hard it was being with Reiner. Although the tears had dried since hours ago. You were in your PJs and drinking the hot coco your friend had made you, comfortable in the bliss of obliviousness upon the fact that your boyfriend of one year was now driving aimlessly trying to locate your position. You were adamant that he was going to leave you anyway, you thought he wouldn't exert an ounce of energy trying to plea you home.

It was 4 AM in the morning and you hadn't come home. The trace of you had gone completely from Reiner's apartment since early morning. Reiner knew that this was bound to happen, had he done anything differently - would you stay? He thought of you and the state that the two of you had been tangled in. All the unresolved tension, or the persistent insinuations coming from you that you always shrugged off in the end, saying "Nothing." as if it did not matter, each time Reiner shot them with, "What did you say?"

You sipped your hot coco and let a troubled whimper as you told your bestfriend what was happening. It's the culmination of small things, your feeling of inadequacy and the anxiety of waking up every morning, being convinced that each day would be the day that Reiner finally leaves you. Every day you’d be mentally preparing yourself for the ultimate fate until Reiner returns home with his big, warm hug until your anxiety caves in. And that the anxiety would appear again in the next morning.

The idea of him leaving became incessant and you could never bug it off. You wondered why, maybe because you believed that you were inherently flawed. Maybe it's the way Reiner made that small "Tsk," when he came home to see the garbage piled up, "Babe, didn't I tell you to put out the garbage?"; or the deep, annoyed and condescending sighs he made when he missed his favorite show because you forgot to pay the cable bills while he was out at the office.

Maybe it's the way you couldn't match his sharp memory and reliability with you constantly forgetting things and your seeming inattentiveness despite the abundant reminders, notes and alarms you've made to keep yourself alerted. At times, your mind just wandered, and you needed him to rope you back in, but he never got the gist.

So, you were adamant that you had grown to be nothing but inconvenience for him, hence when he spent the night over at his office due to what he called "Shit load of work" over the phone, you were certain he wouldn't come back at all. You knew that the pain of being abandoned would haunt you to myriad of miseries, so you'd rather leave first. You knew it would be the end you both needed, because you knew Reiner did not care about you enough to tolerate your shit any longer. He was always quiet, there was hardly ever any expression on his face, God knows what he was thinking underneath. Each of your "Reiner, I'm sorry." would only be met by a singular hum or a quick, "It's okay." that left you wondering, did he ever mean it at all?

So that morning you left. While he was still at the office, because you knew there was no feelings strong enough for Reiner to keep him from leaving you eventually. You left first.

Your bestfriend nodded in reassurance, "You gotta do what you gotta do." she said pulling you into a warmly hug, but your attention was suddenly caught by the pile of plastics and packages from your take-outs at the corner of your friend's room. It just bothered your mind, and you got up to take it out. A small token of atonement to what you wish you had done to Reiner.

Your bestfriend immediately scrambled and took the garbage away from you. Insisting for you to stay in bed and let her take care of it. You nodded and retreated to the pillow fortress. You felt bad for her because the temperature was dropping, and there was no necessity to take the garbage out right now, but your impulse was often hard to subside, and your friend had grown to acknowledge and take sympathy over that. Unlike Reiner, you thought.

Maybe it's because Reiner never shown anyone openly about what he felt, but what you did not know, sometimes he wish he had. Sometimes he wished he'd opened up about how hard it is for him to breathe when unfortunate things occur that he did not have the answer to. Sometime he wished he could share his fear, worry, anger and disappointment, but he was always thought that a man got to suck it up, and perseverance was the only way he knew how to survive.

Sometimes he wished he had told somebody that the constant worrying about his loved ones consumed him too, to the point it became hard for him to let his guard down even when things are okay. He was always on alert, and sometimes it got exhausting too for him. He wished he had told all that, so in times like these he did not have to assume the heartbreak alone while trying to find the solution to it. Sometimes he wished people knew that he cared too, he loved too, he knew too when someone he loved was struggling, but he never learned how to show it. Reiner knew your mind often raced hundreds of miles per hour, Reiner knew your state of agitation, but he never had anyone to teach him how affection should look like, other than be of service, which he tried his best at being. It was no wonder that Reiner was left clueless when you chose to leave without warning.

He was pissed because he knew how daft he was, yet none of it was ever intentional. He cursed himself for not knowing what went wrong, for not being more observant, for not being open with his feelings, for not telling you how much he had grown to love you and how much his apartment immediately grew cold at your absence. But mostly, at this moment, he cursed himself because he wasn't attentive enough to know you friend's house number.

The air was crisp when your bestfriend stepped out of her porch. She made quick steps to the garbage can when she saw bright headlights coming in from the end of the street. She grunted, wondering what was her neighbor doing, cruising around with dramatically low speed. It seemed odd.

She put her fingers above her eyes, trying to recognize the plate number or the driver, but the black SUV lights were dispersing her sight.

She closed the garbage can and tried to immediately return inside but the car cruised closer and pulled over in front of her. The window rolled open.

"Hey," There was an immediate look of surprise from the person that Reiner barely recognized. But he was sure enough that it was her, judging from her body language; all tensed and alerted, "This is Reiner."

For a moment, there was an awkward silence between Reiner and your bestfriend. She was considering carefully on what to say next.

"Uhm yeah, I know." Your bestfriend finally spoke, her voice creaked, caught by surprise. "What do you want?"

Reiner spoke your name, "I want to meet my girlfriend." Reiner could hear the desperation in his own voice, but your friend jeered in response.

"My girlfriend." she passingly mocked the way Reiner spoke, she came to dislike what she thought was possessiveness in Reiner's nature of speaking, "She's not available. I suggest you to scram. Before my neighbors complain."

Reiner furrowed his brows in dismay, couldn't seem to understand the hostility presented by your friend, "I need to talk to her."

She stood unyielding. Reiner opened the door and climbed off of the car, sighing as he walked closer, propelling your friend to keep her distance away even further. "Please, let me talk to her."

"Not a chance." She turned around and scurried back into the house. Reiner was quick to yell, to her expected dismissal. Without thinking further, Reiner got back to behind the wheel and moved his car forward on to the curb, proceeding to close off the exit way for her small city car in the driveway.

Reiner jumped off the car as your besfriend realized what he had done, "I'm not moving the car until she comes down."

She let out a restraint shrieked, "What the fuck?! I got a dentist appointment tomorrow morning!"

"Then please, tell her to come down and talk to me," Reiner said, sounding almost apologetic. He threw a glance at a lonely swing set in the small park across the street, "there."

The occurrence happening before your eyes was unexpected to say the least. You closed the small slit from your bestfriend's window fold, trying to manage your heartbeat that had become almost deafening. At the same time your bestfriend appeared from the door, face red with flustered, "I think he really wants to see you."

Thousands of thoughts made a commotion in your head. It did not make any sense. You made it easier for Reiner by walking away with clean slate, you were sure this was what he had hoped secretly.

Your friend shuffled inside and shot you a deep stare, she sighed heavily and told you that whether you liked it or not, you had to face him. Reiner looked genuinely worried, she said, twisting your guts even further.

You sat in her bed for a moment, trying to relive every waking moment with Reiner. Sure there were moments when your own thoughts chased you into a deep corner and you wished Reiner had seen it. Sometimes you wished he’d hold you tight, kiss you with reassurance and told you how meaningful you were to him. Sure, sometimes being with Reiner could feel lonely, but he had never treated you back nor was he ever intentionally mean to you. What do I want? The question hung heavy in your mind.

I want him to say that he wants me, the voice within the nook of your brain said, I want him to say that he loves me.

You nodded, finally ceasing from running away further.

             Reiner never thought that at his 20-something he would sit miserably on a random swing-set at a random neighborhood just an hour before the dusk cracked. Reiner was a big man, but even with his figure and the aid of his tailored suit and shirt, wrinkled after gruesome hours at work trying to keep his company afloat on the thin ice of his personal relationship with you – Reiner was tired, and miserable, and desperate. Even more, he was cold as the temperature continued to drop down.

He hung his head low, trying to fight the shivers. It was quiet, too quiet, only the faint sound of the wind and the creaking sound of the swing-set holding off to its dear life under Reiner’s massive weight. The man sighed, never he thought that the sight of you coming out of someone’s house in the dead of a  night would be a spectacle he looked forward to the most.

He closed his eyes, shutting himself off from any sound and thought. Thinking that maybe in the bleakness of his sense, the time would pass faster and your heart would soften.

In the nothingness Reiner could feel a sudden warmth crept from the tips of his fingers, he opened his eyes to see you standing before his eyes, towering him who was sitting like a pathetic boy on the swing. You were wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe, hiding your PJs underneath. In your hands were two cups of scalding tea, you shoved one into his hand, “You came.” You stated.

Reiner let out a deep sigh of relief as he saw you safe and sound. He felt warmth travelled across his body, he did not know whether it was the tea in his hand or simply the sight of you that made him felt so. His eyes latched on to you as you sat on the swing next to him, “Hey. What are you doing?” Reiner asked.

“Running away.”

“Why?”

Reiner looked at you intently, and the guilt started to consume you. You gazed afar, softly shook your head, “Dunno.”

“I see.”

Yet another silence ensued.

“How’s work?”

Reiner sighed again; the heavy breath seemed to be the only way the two of you communicated. Just two troubled minds pouring their burden at each other, “Bertholdt abruptly resigned—fuck, it’s been a nightmare, but—” Reiner pressured his thumb over his brows, trying to ease his sharp migraine that suddenly came, “—that doesn’t matter now. Will you come home?”

He looked at you again, you were still gazing to god-knows-what, everything other than his eyes. Reiner grew antsy on his seat, the swing creaked again. Please look at me. Please look at me. The words resonated incessantly in Reiner’s head but nothing came out of his mouth. Just a stoic, to-the-point question.

Don’t you wanna know the problem, Reiner? Is that all? I said I don’t know and you didn’t even try to dig in deeper? You came all the way here and you just straight up asking me to go home with you? Your mind was nowhere better. It’s in uproar but there was only silence coming out of your mouth. But he came, he didn’t leave. Contradiction danced inside your mind like an unwanted guest.

The silence grew heavier. You saw the lights from your bestfriend’s bedroom lit off, she had got to be tired eventually. Suddenly, you felt so alone. Just the two of you in this odd morning.

“It’s hard, right?” Reiner broke the silence, he looked at you again, this time he was desperate for you to look into his eyes. Little did he know, you were refusing to do so because you could feel your fragility forming in your eyes. You swore not to cry.

“What?” Just a depthless answer you uttered.

“Growing up.” Reiner muttered. The man sounded almost contemplative in his defeat. He sighed again and shook his head, “I thought I’d be someone better by this time in my life.”

The answer surprised you. You thought he would say something like ‘Relationship is hard’ or some jargons he picked up from one of the movies he watched without you. You felt bad for undermining him just because you were upset with him. Does it really mirror your true perception of him? Maybe you really hadn’t known him that well.

You had no resolve to his statement, so you just nodded, allowing him to pour out his thoughts.

“I thought I’d be better with my job, with myself, and most importantly,” he shifted to lurch towards you on his seat, the wire strings of the swing twisted to your direction, “with the people I love. But obviously, I still… suck.”

“And here I am. 4 AM. A fucking adult on a fucking neighborhood swing-set.”

You could feel the air suctioned out of your lungs, as you felt guilt loomed bigger inside you. He came and he felt bad – what more could I ask for? But then you remembered the nights of loneliness despite having Reiner sleeping next to you. You had a bad day, but you were too prideful to come clean. You wanted him to be intuitive, but he never did. Being with Reiner, you had mastered the art of crying in silence while sharing the bed with him. It’s exhausting. Yeah, Rei, maybe you’re bad at this.

Despite that, you stayed silent.

“Will you hate me if I say I don’t know what’s wrong?” Reiner knew how daft he sounded, “God. I’m pushing my luck coming clean at you.”

You were at loss for words. You had so many things to say, but too few of a courage.

Reiner called your name. He reached over and tried to tangle one of your fingers with his. From your periphery sight, you could see him forcing a smile, “I—”

He sighed again. Reiner’s chest was filled with words and all he wanted was to vomit it out, but he never knew how to properly addressed the feelings he had—he couldn’t even describe what he felt. All he knew was one thing: he wanted you home, back in his arms, “I am a stupid man. I really don’t know what’s happening between us. You.. just.. gone. Please, just tell me what’s wrong. I’m not smart enough for all these..”

There was almost a childish plea in Reiner’s words, and you couldn’t help but to threw a faint smile. You chuckled, “What did you say? You’re—what?”

He scoffed at himself, “I am stupid.”

You finally caved in because you realized there was an undeniable genuineness in the way he spoke. And the sentiment was mutual, you felt stupid as well for you had not realized how completely, utterly, truly clueless Reiner was.

Eventually, you looked at him. His hardened face quickly turned wary to finally see how puffy your eyes were from crying earlier, you forced a smile, but it was clear you were pretending, “You make me feel so lonely sometimes.”

The words came out of your mouth like a canonball that had been stuck in your chest for too long. You felt relief, but on the other side, Reiner could feel his heart broke. A pain from a man realizing too late of the damage he had caused.

You thought of everything that had made you feel so. The way Reiner rolled over in bed away from you, drowsy and unaware, when you called him in the dead night as your anxiety kicked in; when his hand let you go as you tried to hold his hands in public; the complete non-existing mention of you in his social media; the take-outs that he mindlessly brought home when you had cooked dinner; his easiness in dropping a problem after he said sorry without checking up with you further.

It was the absent of his intuition that made you felt invisible – but you realized too late that maybe he was truly oblivious, evident as he said, “But how?”

“You really don’t know?”

“Babe,” he further tangled your fingers into his grasp. Your hand and his, they hung in the middle of the two swing seats, “I swear on my mother’s grave.”

“I’ve always thought you wanted to leave me but never got the right moment to it. The affection—I hardly ever got it from you. Not the affirming words, not the reassurance. Hell, maybe I want that public kiss and hugs that you thought was stupid, Rei. Just—”

You could feel the tears forming, choking you mercilessly, “—just to feel loved. To feel wanted. For once.”

You finally let your tears dropped. And Reiner was slapped with realities that both of you were in. He let go of your hand and stared down at the pavement, “I’m sorry. I never knew.”

“You never asked.”

“But I never knew. How am I supposed to know that I should ask when I didn’t know I should ask on the first place? I’ve always thought you wanted to be left alone when all your crazy thoughts come in—but you—”

“—you—"

Reiner groaned, obviously frustrated. He rested the blabber, “Maybe we’re just not good at this.”

Like a train, you could feel the ending coming to hit you. This is it. This is it. You thought to yourself, picturing how Reiner would finally leave you. You secretly wished Reiner wouldn’t give in, you wish he’d put up more fight, so at least you’d know that you carried a weight in his heart. But you knew this was bound to happen, so why were you so upset?

“Maybe.” You wiped your tears dry, “That’s okay, Reiner. I know that’s what I am.”

“What?”

“I’m just an embarkation point, right? Everyone will leave me eventually. That’s why I left, because I know eventually, we’ll be talking about this. So I’d better leave first.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Reiner grew even more frustrated with the way you danced around your words.

“It’s okay if you want to leave me. That’s what all people do to me.”

“You left because you think I was planning to leave you all along?” Reiner asked, sounding painfully offended as he finally got to gather what you were insinuating, “So that is the problem?”

“Yeah, so I better leave first, right? Before I get hurt again? Before you leave me like other people and—”

“Fuck other people!” Reiner raised his voice, which he immediately regretted. He ran his fingers over his hair irritated, turning it into a complete blond mess, “Are you trying to avenge your revenge for other people—those exes you’ve had—on me?”

Tears welled up again in your eyes, as you looked away from him. But he called on your name again, this time there was a deep sternness in his call that you couldn’t help but to face him. Reiner was glad that you finally gained courage to speak the truth, when he had not, “So you want reassurance, yeah? How about the times I told you how beautiful, how smart, how great you are – only for you to tell yourself the opposite immediately.”

Reiner looked directly into your eyes, “I can’t make you something you’re not. What you are is who you think you are.”

“You can never matter – if you don’t think you do.”

An expressionless, soundless tear fell onto your cheek. A heart broke to your dismay. Reiner finally said the truth and there was no way you could delude yourself into thinking that he was wrong, “Then… why don’t you just leave me, Rei? Why don’t you get rid of me a long time ago?”

“Because I’m giving you something that I never received in my entire life, ever. I’m staying for you.” There was a palpable pain in the way Reiner spoke. He landed his finger on to your heart and you could feel it pierced through your skin with heavy realization, “I’m staying. Like no one ever did in my life. Not my ex-girlfriends, not my friends, and certainly not my father. That’s what makes us different. I have more faith in you than you have in me.”

Reiner was a man with heavy heart. He had been through a lot of things in his life, learned how to fend on for himself since very young, and dreamed of the day when he could finally put his hair down with someone he cared for. And what you hadn’t realize, was how essentially similar you were to him. How both of you longed for someone to let go of your inhibitions and fear? Just two broken people finding refuge in each other’s longing for the same thing. And that’s what you failed to see. He understood you, just in a way you didn’t understand.

And that’s the thing about pain, they are inherently personal. No matter how much you have shared yourself to others.

The two of you went dead silent for a moment. In the horizon, the sun rays were starting to emerge, the morning had arrived.  Your tears cascaded painfully slow; Reiner was looking at his feet trying to sip his tea that had gone cold. His hands were trembling with both sadness and anger that were beginning to secede.

Reiner finally called your name, this time it was delicate, “I’m sorry, alright?”

You looked at him with tears in your eyes as you nodded, “Alright.”

“Will you come home, now?”

“Yes,” you muttered, “I think I will.”

The two of you got up and Reiner immediately drew you into his chest, holding you the tightest you had ever been held, reconnecting all the broken pieces scattered inside you. You buried your face into his strong chest as you sobbed once more, while he kissed the top of your head with affection more vivid than thousands of words of affirmations.

“What do we do with these hearts, Rei?” You asked as you felt your chest throbbing with pain and love.

The man loosened his embrace and smiled, “Persevere.”

A/N:

First of all thank you so much to @okubean for giving me a hellish prompt! This one really made me faced my own abandonment issue and poured it into a writing. I tried to touch about the absent-mindedness as the implication of ADHD but I’m really worried that it doesn’t really do it justice. So hereby my sincere apologies! 😭🙏

Nonetheless, I really hope that you may enjoy this piece and I’m so sorry if it comes off as boring!

I literally drafted this on the metro, and got really carried away with it!

Did I enjoy it? (Yes)

Did this turn out longer than I expected? (Yes)

Am I worried this will bore people? (Yes)

[vodkassassin]

Ok let me set the scene: SQQ had grown used to his multiple layers of clothes, and it was never a problem untill the day he and (your closen love interest) decided it was time for papapa, que the twenty minutes of SQQ instructing how to carefully take off his each and every layer. The steamy vibes slowly disapear. The curtains close.

I know you wanted this to be steamy, cousin, but I slapped platonic cucumberplane onto it instead and it turned into a big Mess of Feelings instead of romantic comedy 😅 my bad! @overlordmoth

—

The first time Shen Yuan is forced to attend a inter-sect banquet is memorable, if nothing else. It doesn’t even have anything to do with the event itself, but what happened afterwards.

The food was alright. He’s been spoiled, he thinks, by his adorable disciple’s god-tier cooking, because though the organization committee had gone all out and hired the fanciest of catering staff, the food itself was… he wouldn't go so far as to call it disappointing, per say, but it had been a bit bland when he’d tried it. He finished off his meager plate of appetizers and resolved not to touch any other dish thereafter. He’ll just eat a meal when he gets back to his peak.

Luckily, inter-sect conferences aren’t a constant occurrence. They only happened once every few years, as a way for the many sects of xianxialand to share information and gossip. Shen Yuan has had two years now, to get used to being Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu, and he’s grateful for the extra time he was given to learn his character before he was forced to debut into such a public setting, where Shen Jiu has long-since created himself a reputation.

Much like the reputation amongst his own sect, everyone in the cultivation world seems to know how Shen Jiu had been. Tonight is the first time since his fever (and Shen Yuan’s transmigration) that Peak Lord Shen steps into the limelight and shows exactly how drastically he has changed in character.

It doesn’t go as terribly as he expected it to, honestly.

When he’d first entered the hall, the amount of stares that had immediately zeroed in on him and began dissecting his every movement was… overwhelming, in a way. Shen Yuan is used to stares. He has to be, just to walk around his own peak. His disciples are nosy, gossipy young masters and maidens. For all that they seem to admire and respect him, there is never a single moment when Shen Qingqiu does not feel their eyes following him as he walks from one classroom hall to the next.

The banquet is much the same. Instead of his disciples, however, these are matured (in a manner of speaking) cultivators of sects not his own. Which means Shen Qingqiu has to be on the lookout and watch his own back.

Or he would have had to, had his fellow transmigrator not been in attendance as well.

He supposed he’s lucky, that all the peak lords were required to attend this ridiculous party.

He spends the first ten minutes or so proving to these cultivators that, though Shen Qingqiu has obviously changed, his tongue is still just as acerbic and barbed as it had been before, perhaps even more creatively so now that he’s changed. It puts strained, polite smiles onto the faces of men and women who had approached him in attempts to size him up and find a hand hold for themselves.

Joke’s on them.

As pleased as he is to discover them just as easily taken down a peg or two as his own sect members, Shen Qingqiu grows exhausted of this game rather quickly. Once he sends the last cultivator away with their tail between their legs, he snaps his fan closed with a flick of his wrist and turns on his heel before the next can even think to approach him.

It’s out of character, apparently, for Shen Qingqiu to throw the towel in when the first hour hasn’t even passed. Raised eyebrows and confused eyes follow him as he steps off to the side and sidles up to where the only other millennial in this world is leaning against the far wall of the hall, cradling a cup of tea in his hands and staring at the floor likely in the hope that no one will come speak to him.

As much as he whines that he never gets as much attention as the other peak lords, Shang Qinghua always prefers the sidelines. All the better to remain unnoticed, that he may more efficiently observe their guests without them realizing that the An Ding peak lord’s eyes see far more than any of them could ever think.

When Shen Qingqiu leans his back against the wall beside him, Shang Qinghua gives a startled jolt. His tea sloshes in its cup, thankfully not spilling over, and he raises wide eyes to meet Shen Qingqiu’s look of ridicule.

“Ah….” For once, his friend seems lost for words, and Shen Qingqiu resists the urge to frown at him. “What’s up?”

“If I’m going to make it even a single hour in this party, much less the full ten it’s scheduled for, then I’m going to need someone to listen to me complain.” Shen Qingqiu begins succinctly. “As my bro, that’s your job.”

Strangely, Shang Qinghua seems to perk up at this. He swirls his tea around — and from the sharp scent that wafts upward to Shen Qingqiu’s nose, tea isn’t the only thing in that cup — and casts Shen Qingqiu a cheerful smile.

“A party isn’t a party until you’ve made fun of every single partygoer behind their back at least twice,” his fellow peak lord agrees.

Shen Qingqiu smirks at him.

He snaps open his fan to cover it when he hears a few murmurs of shock from the people who are still watching him like hawks for any sign of difference between him and Shen Jiu. It’s so fucking tiring.

Shang Qinghua huffs a quiet laugh and shoots him a look of sympathy.

“How many bodies do you think you can help me hide before someone notices that guests are beginning to disappear?” He asks nonchalantly, and his mouth curls into a more genuine smile behind the safety of his fan when Shang Qinghua’s shoulders start to shake with laughter.

“Don’t ask me that,” the slightly shorter man breathes out in mirth, eyes bright. “Between the two of us, we can absolutely make it happen. It’s best not to even tempt it.”

“As you say,” Shen Qingqiu sighs despondently, fluttering his fan before his face. It’s beginning to grow a little too warm even in the huge, cavernous banquet hall. That’s what happens when you shove an entire crowd of people into the same room together. It gets stuffy.

The banquet passes a little quicker than it would have otherwise, with Shang Qinghua by his side to exchange quite jokes and banter with. A particular, good-natured target for them both is Liu Qingge, who’s squirelled himself into a different corner of the hall with three jars of alcohol and whose grave glare is enough to chase off anyone who’d wish to speak with him. The poor man just isn’t built for socializing. At least it’s clear that there’s someone who’s having a worse time here than Shen Qingqiu is. It might be mean, but it makes him feel better nonetheless.

It’s nice to have someone who actually understands every meme and pop culture reference Shen Qingqiu slips into his mockery of the banquet guests. The only issue is having to smother his real, genuine laughter when Shang Qinghua comes back at him with something actually hilarious. It would surely rock the cultivation world to its very foundation if Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu burst into laughter in the middle of an inter-sect banquet for all to see.

Even with the allowances he’s slowly acquired for himself in the time since he disabled the OOC lock, his martial siblings would certainly send for Mu Qingfang to check him over.

Still, the comfortable atmosphere of mockery aside, several hours is still several hours, and by the time Shang Qinghua is down to the dregs of his seventh cup of tea (plus the obvious pick-me-up he adds to it), Shen Qingqiu is incredibly fucking done with this entire farce.

Opening his fan to conceal his face, he leans over slightly into his friend's space and quietly says, “You wanna blow this popsicle stand?”

The clear effort it takes Shang Qinghua not to wheeze is gratifying. “Are we even allowed to do that?”

“We’re peak lords,” Shen Qingqiu says, shrugging his shoulders lightly. “We can do whatever the fuck we want. And, speaking as a millennial — who’s going to stop us, really?”

Good thing they’d dissolved into speaking English three hours ago. If someone heard the cold, and graceful Lord Shen verbally curse then he’d probably be forced to undergo another test for possession with Wei Qingwei when they all got home. Annoying as hell, those things. They took hours and he wasn’t even allowed to read to pass the time!

“Point,” Shang Qinghua admits.

“Plus,” Shen Qingqiu raises his fan up a bit higher to hide his entire expression and makes a face. “I, uh…. need a favor, from you.”

Shang Qinghua blinks over the rim of his teacup at him. He stares at him for a long, wordless moment, and then his eyebrows shoot up.

“The peerless peak lord Shen,” he says lightly, mouth quirking, “needs help—?”

“Airplane.”

“—from little ol’ me?”

“Imma gut you,” Shen Yuan mutters, fan fluttering.

Shang Qinghua beams at him. He pushes up off the wall and steps over to the nearest table to set his now-empty cup on its surface.

“Yeah, okay,” the man says.

Appeased, yet miffed, Shen Qingqiu raises his chin up and snaps his fan closed sharply enough to make a noise. “Good.”

They leave. There’s a multitude of stares that follow in their wake, from both strangers and their own martial siblings across the hall, but neither of them pay them any mind, aside from the way Shang Qinghua’s shoulders raise defensively almost on instinct. A nervous habit that the man will probably never rid himself of.

Three minutes later, they’ve closed themselves away in Shen Qingqiu’s guest quarters of the venue — the conferences are to last for at least three days, minimum, so each sect has their own pavilion for the overnight stay — and Shen Qingqiu stands grumpily in the middle of the room while Shang Qinghua collapses against the bed and laughs himself silly.

“Y-You need me to—?” The man wheezes, one hand pressed over his mouth as tears prick the corners of his eyes, his other arm holding his side. “To—?”

“Yes, it’s very amusing,” Shen Qingqiu deadpans, eyebrow twitching. “And what a friend you are, to laugh in the face of my plight. What, do you expect me to ask anyone else? Who would you suggest? Yue Qingyuan? As if! Of course I need your help, idiot!”

“I’m sure Sect Leader would be very obliging if you were to ask,” Shang Qinghua giggles from where he’s curled up on top of the blankets. He waggles his eyebrows. “Very obliging.”

“You disgust me,” Shen Qingqiu sniffs. He tugs at the front of his robes, and casts his friend a helpless look. “Seriously, how am I suppose to get out of this — this death trap?!”

Because, for such a fancy and important occasion as an inter-sect conference opening banquet, the guests are of course expected to wear their most formal robes. And, in xianxialand, formal robes mean layers. Layer upon layer upon layer. And extra baubles on top of that, like multiple-section headpieces and jewelry and gauzy, sheer, bedazzled over robes.

Truly, the opulence and over-the-topness of the cultivation world never ceases to make Shen Qingqiu raise his brow.

“I get what you mean,” Shang Qinghua chortles. “Stop your bitching, bro, I know how to escape these things, no problem.”

He hops up from the bed and makes his way over, reaching for the outside clasps of the over robe without even asking first. Shen Qingqiu does mind, holding his arms out to give his friend better access. Honestly, there is never any dignity lost between the two of them, what with their modern sensibilities. Not that Shen Yuan ever had much dignity to begin with, being a lifetime recurring hospital patient in his last life. As Shen Qingqiu, peer immortal master that he is, however, he at least has to pretend he does.

With everyone other than Airplane, that is.

“Thanks,” he says, grumbling but grateful, as Shang Qinghua carefully but without ceremony shucks off his outer robe and the one underneath it.

The man steps closer after laying those out on the bed, and tugs at the ties of the belt that hold the next robe closed. After a series of finger gymnastics that Shen Qingqiu can’t really make head nor tails of, his friend reaches up and pulls the silk down from his shoulders and reaches a hand inside to pull at the smaller ties hidden within. Which is absolutely ridiculous. Shen Qingqiu had seriously felt like he was putting together a piece of IKEA furniture when he’d originally gotten dressed. Overly complicated, the instructions were all in Swedish, and it was nearly impossible to accomplish on one’s own. But, he‘d done it!

Dismantling it all, however, was another thing entirely, and he thanks whatever higher power there is, that Airplane is here to lend him that hand without any of the awkwardness that someone with ancient Chinese sensibilities would bring.

“Thank god these things are only like, twice a decade,” he groans, leaning back so his fellow transmigrator has easier access to free him of the next stifling layer. “If this body didn’t have that handy cultivation temperature regulation magic bullshit you came up with for that scene in chapter one-hundred twenty, I’d be sweating buckets right now. Next time I get an invitation to a banquet, I’m refusing, no matter how much Yue Qingyuan puppy-dog eyes at me”

Shang Qinghua directs an odd, slanting smile down at the belt he’s working free, nimble fingers pulling and tugging gently at the ties so they don’t accidentally tighten instead of loosen.

“Yeah,” he says, quiet. “... I’ve never been a fan of banquets either.”

Shen Qingqiu holds back a scoff. And then lets it free, because there’s nobody here but Shang Qinghua, who knows him and won’t ever begrudge him for showing actual emotion. “I can’t imagine anyone being wrapped up in thirty layers and expected to socialize with sharks for ten fucking hours and actually enjoying it.”

Shang Qinghua ducks his head down, smile disappearing. He tugs the ties free and reaches up to slip another layer off of Shen Qingqiu’s shoulders, but he keeps his eyes lowered. Shen Qingqiu pauses, frowning at him. Something’s off.

“...Airplane?”

“It’s not that,” Shang Qinghua shrugs helplessly, tugging at the ties of the next robe without much effort to pull them loose. There’s a slightly uncomfortable expression on his face that makes Shen Qingqiu frown deepen. “I actually don’t mind all the layers. My parents dressed me in hanfu all the time when I was a kid in my past life, so I was already used to it before I even transmigrated. The food at banquets is really good, too, and the socialization isn’t so bad once you look at it as just a political pissing contest. Banquets could be fun, really.”

“But they’re not,” Shen Qingqiu guesses, and reaches out to clasp his friends hands in his, pulling them away from his belt. They twitch in his hold, like Shang Qinghua wants to fidget, a nervous tick.

He’s only half dressed at this point, but right now he’s more concerned with the shuttering expression on Shang Qinghua’s face than anything else. “Not for you, at least. Why?”

Shang Qinghua glances nervously up at him from beneath his lashes, only to look back down again and grimace. “They’d be a lot of fun, if I wasn’t… me, I guess? Today is the first time I’ve actually enjoyed a banquet since I first started attending them as a head disciple.”

Shen Qingqiu presses his lips together as his friend lets out a mirthless, unamused laugh. He squeezes the hands he’s holding, and Shang Qinghua‘s shoulders droop.

“It was also the first time anyone’s actually stuck by me and actually talked to me, though, so,” the other finally glances up, an odd and fragile smile on his face as he chuckles weakly. His eyes are shining a bit damply, and Shen Qingqiu locks his teeth together when he sees it. “I guess it makes sense? Banquets are a lot more fun when you’re not, um… totally alone the entire time! Haha…. who knew, right…?”

Shen Qinghua shakes his head slowly. He ignores his state of undress and reaches out to draw his friend into his arms.

Sometimes, Shen Yuan wishes he’d transmigrated into Shen Jiu’s life earlier than he had. Sure, the cons far outweigh the pros, in such a situation, but at least his friend would have had someone in his corner for all the times that their martial family had snubbed him. Airplane may have brought the anxieties and insecurities of his past life along with him into this one, but Shen Yuan doesn’t doubt for a single second that in the decades that Airplane has been Shang Qinghua, they have been made much stronger (and oftentimes crippling) by the actions of the people who are suppose to stand by him and have his back.

It’s infuriating, when he lets himself think about it for too long, so usually he doesn’t. And then it smacks him right in the face, like now, and Shen Yuan feels nothing but bitter resentment toward those people who are supposedly his friend’s martial family.

Shang Qinghua makes a quietly surprised sound, but doesn’t protest. In fact, the other melts against him, hands coming up to grasp at the front of his robes, and he tucks his face into the junction between Shen Qingqiu’s shoulder and neck. He sucks in a slow, stuttering breath that makes him tremble, and Shen Qingqiu reaches up one hand to bury into the back of his friend’s hair, curling his fingers into the strands.

“It must’ve been extra rough when the original goods was still around,” he comments quietly.

Shang Qinghua shudders, and then nods his head against his shoulder. “H-He was a real jerk, but usually he was too busy verbally flaying all the guests from the other sects alive, to pay me much mind. Thankfully.” The An Ding lord lets out a wet chuckle.

Shen Qingqiu allows another frown to cinch at his brow as he pets his hand through his friend’s hair. “And none of the others ever…?”

“Why would they? I’m just — I’m just… An Ding.”

Shen Qingqiu tightens the arm that he has wound around Shang Qinghua’s waist, and his scowl depends when he feels his friend shake.

The door opens then, because of course it does. Someone peaks their head in, and who else is it going to be but Yue Qingyuan, looking for his precious Xiao Jiu, who apparently isn’t one to leave a banquet early when there are still guests left to verbally knock down several pegs and cripple the self esteem of?

The sect leader opens his mouth, and closes it. Shen Qingqiu watches impassively the journey of emotions the man’s face undergoes as he takes in the scene of a half dressed Xiao Jiu holding a trembling Shang Qinghua in his arms. Yue Qingyuan’s face is pale and there’s two splotches of bright red on both his cheeks. He looks both mortified and horrified in equal measure.

Shen Qingqiu wraps his arms tightly around the other transmigrator, holding the still-trembling Shang Qinghua to his chest, and narrows his eyes at the sect leader viciously.

“Leave,” he snaps. His best friend doesn’t deserve having anyone spying on this moment of real vulnerability.

Yue Qingyuan beats a hasty retreat. The door closes softly behind him.

Shang Qinghua gives one last shudder, before going lax in his arms, letting Shen Qingqiu hold him up with his strength alone. The An Ding peak lord reaches out his arms to wrap them around Shen Qingqiu and return the hug, clutching tightly at him.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” the man says, voice slightly choked, and Shen Qingqiu swallows thickly. It’s clear that Shang Qinghua is talking about more than just tonight’s banquet.

“Me too,” he says, and finds that he actually means it.

[maybedefinitely404]

Day 11: Intruloceit (pt 2)

@tsshipmonth2020

The sequel y’all were waiting for! (@hoppe-ideas)

Day 11: ‘Choose your own adventure’ day! I chose to continue from Day 9, since I couldn’t very well leave it there.

Content warning: allusions to abuse, Remus being Remus (need I elaborate?), implied past panic attack, mention of bipolar disorder, and of course, Janus’ crippling insecurities. Angst with a happy ending. 

Word count: 4k

*READ DAY 9 FIRST*

Blue: What time are you available?

Green: What is this, a doctor’s office? I’m free after lunch 

Blue: I was merely tr

Green: I know, I know. I’m just teasing you. It’s endearing, my little mocking-nerd. Bring your textbook, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria. It’s octopus learning time!

Blue: I will never understand you.

Green: Good 

He drew a crude rendering of the devil emoji, then a heart, and the conversation ended as quickly as it began.

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Green: What would happen if you injected coca cola into your bloodstream

Blue: No.

Green: It’s just a question!

Blue: I’m assuming you would die.

Green: Damn. Can we try anyways?

Blue: No!

Green: C’mon, for science?

Blue: NO! Why did this question even arise?!

Janus hid a small chuckle, before immediately slapping a hand over his mouth. Even if the writing was as much on his arm as it was theirs, it still felt wrong to read it. Felt wrong to admit that he was starting to enjoy their shenanigans.

-------------------------------------

Green: Hey

Blue: Hello, my dear. What is so important that you couldn’t text me?

Green: my mom broke my phone and I’m having an attack

Janus sat straight up, his calligraphy pen clattering to the floor, effectively ruining the large swooping letters he was working on with a splattered gold streak. This was the first message the two had shared that wasn’t either Blue’s notes about homework or Green’s odd creative ideas, or cheesy conversations between the two that Janus tended not to read. It felt like intruding on someone’s life. He hadn’t learned their names yet, and while they always stuck to the same color scheme, he knew at this point he’d be able to distinguish their handwriting with no hesitation. It was his version of hearing their voices, and he’d started growing attached to them. He turned his full attention to the conversation on the back of his arm, feeling a surge of worry.

Blue: I’m on my way, be at the curb in ten minutes?

Green: thanks

Blue: Remember those breathing exercises. Try to stay calm. 

Green: please hurry

Blue: I’m driving as fast as I can, love.

The messages ended there, and Janus didn’t sleep that night.

----------------------------------------------------------

Blue: Happy birthday, Remus. I hope you have an amazing day.

Remus: Are we still good to go for tonight? 

Blue: Of course. I had Roman and Patton help plan most of the date, so I hope you enjoy it.

Remus: Logan, if it’s with you, I will~ 

Logan: You’re a sap.

Remus: And you love it

Logan: Guilty.

Never had Janus felt so alone. It was one thing to have anonymous messages scribbled on your arm, little doodles and good luck wishes, but to know their names? That brought on a whole new round of tears that he hated himself for. Remus and Logan. The names of his so-called soulmates, the labels he could finally put to the personalities. As much as he hated to admit it, waking up had become a whole lot easier since they’d started appearing on his skin. It was something little to look forward to.

It also hurt, just a little bit more. Before he was eighteen, he’d been able to imagine his situation like his parent’s, with a soulmate who would end up hating and hurting him, and it was easy to decide to never communicate when the time arrived. And even if they seemed like genuinely good people, every time he lifted a pen to respond, to announce his presence, he stopped himself, as his father’s words rang through his head.

Why would anyone want you, Janus?

You’re a mistake, and they’ll see that instantly.

Honestly, what good do you even have to offer a soulmate?

He didn’t want them to be true, but it wasn’t like anyone had ever told him differently. His mother avoided his eyes and was silent, his peers treated him like a disease, so those words were the ones he started to believe. So he capped the pen, pulled his sleeve down, and ignored the small feather light tickles as they spread across his arms. 

------------------------------------------------

Of course, it wasn’t avoidable forever. 

It was writing on skin, did he think that was something he would never do accidentally? Was he really that stupid? They were going to be so pissed when they found out how long he’d been snooping on their conversations. They’d hate him. They’d never be open to the idea that he was somehow meant to be in their lives. He was done. He was such an idiot.

These were the thoughts raging through his mind as he looked down over himself in shock, spilled amber ink shimmering on his skin. It was an accident; an opening of an ink pod combined with over enthusiastic dancing to the Chicago soundtrack, leading to a faltering concentration and skin covered in staining gold. He’d been sitting cross legged on his chair when the cartridge exploded, and he’d bounded to his bathroom to try and wash it off, but it had only been partially successful. There was no doubt in his mind that they would see it. It had covered a good majority of today’s messages on his arms, smeared across his shins from hurriedly trying to wipe it away, and speckled across his face like the world’s most unfortunate freckles. 

He dropped back into his chair, his music now turned off, and laid his head on the cool wood of his desk. The ticking on his clock was the only sound in the room and he counted each one, mentally marking the minutes as they passed by. Waiting. Five minutes of silent fear had passed before a new anxiety began to rise in him. What if they were his soulmates, but he wasn’t theirs? He’d heard of it happening, ever so rarely, that soulmarks weren’t reciprocated. If that was true for him, and he was starting to become sure it was, they wouldn’t see the ink. They never would. He would be forced to live the rest of his life on the outside, reading their life on his skin but never able to take part. Somehow that seemed a lot worse now that it wasn’t his choice.

Just as he was starting to spiral, a familiar tickle on his arm snapped him back to the present. His head jerked up, hair falling into his heterochromatic eyes as he followed the dark blue script, starting just under the largest golden spill.

Hello? 

And how should he respond to that? He couldn’t think of a fun one liner, a sassy quip, to introduce himself. For the first time in his life, lying wasn’t an option, and he hated that. He grabbed the first pen he could grab, a black ballpoint, with shaking fingers.

Hi. Well, that was lame. 

You’re our soulmate. It was less of a question, more of a statement. Janus took a deep breath, bringing the pen down again.

Yes. 

I’m sorry. What he was apologizing for, he couldn’t quite put a finger on. But it felt right. Apologizing was simply second nature to him.

Whatever for?

He didn’t know how to answer that time, so he did what he always did best, and watched. Waited again, hoping that Blue (Logan, he remembered vaguely), would just drop the subject. This was the most conversation he’d had with someone in a while. 

My name’s Remus. The other dork is Logan. 

The green ink appeared under the blue, and Janus’ heart dropped painfully in his chest. As if he didn’t already know their names. It’s not as if he could say that, though. 

You seem kinda shy. It’s cute 

Let them speak, Remus. 

Both of them went silent, offering time to allow Janus to write. But he didn’t know what to say, how to explain… 

So he didn’t. He yanked down the sleeves of his pajama top, pulling the edges over his hands to hide the now dried golden  ink, and collapsed onto his bed, dooming himself to another night of restless sleep. 

----------------------------------------

If Janus had the choice, he wouldn’t have gone to school the next day. He would have laid curled up under his blanket, struggling to tune out the sound of his parents arguing, letting the world pass him by like an old camera reel. Janus didn’t have the choice though, not when he remembered it was nearing the end of the year and exam season was drawing closer, and then the bickering downstairs became motivation. Good grades would equal an out-of-state college, which would mean getting away from thrown dishes and slamming doors. 

Even so, that didn’t mean that Janus didn’t regret the entire day of school. It seemed like a breath of fresh air when the lunch bell rang and the students shuffled out of the class in a lump, leaving just him and Mr. Sanders behind, as per usual. Just as he reached down to pull his lunch out of his bag (just a handful of cold scrambled eggs he had set aside from his already meager breakfast), the teacher spoke.

“I actually have a meeting today, Jay. You’re gonna have to find a different place to have lunch.”

“What?” Janus recoiled as he spoke, his own voice sounding foreign to him. He hadn’t meant to talk back, half expecting a lecture, and was surprised when the teacher’s expression morphed into one of sympathy.

“Sorry, bud. It’s a staff meeting, and I couldn’t find a TA to watch the room over the break. It’s only for today. Cafeteria is open though, I’m sure you can find an empty table there. Or better yet,” He smiled softly, lifting his laptop bag onto his shoulder, “Sit with someone. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

Janus picked up his bag as well, rushing from the room without a second glance. He didn’t feel like explaining that the reason he sat alone wasn’t his choice, and he couldn’t help it. He was just tired of being pushed away, so why not make the first move himself. 

The path to the cafeteria was hardly trodden by him, and he tried to take in the pictures of past grad classes on the wall for as long as possible before his time was up. The security guard marching the halls gave him a pointed look, reminding him that he couldn’t stay in the hallways during lunch, so he hunched his shoulders and walked into the lunch room. He cursed the weather under his breath for being so damn hot today; he would melt in his hoodie and gloves to cover the ink. Luckily the splatters on his face blended in enough with the skin tone to be unnoticeable. 

The first thing he noticed is that it was loud. People shouted, trays clattered, and Janus wanted nothing more than to curl up in his hoodie. Social interaction. Gross. The second was that Mr. Sanders had been right, there was a line of empty tables at the back that people seemed to avoid in favor of grouping together in the center. The third and final thing was the overwhelming sense of loneliness that flooded Janus as soon as he walked in. Sitting alone in an empty room was one thing, choosing to sit alone in a crowded room was another. 

For a split second, the teacher’s words ran through his mind, and he wondered briefly if he should join a group, only for his anxiety to immediately shut the idea down with a shriek of are you crazy?!

He chose the closest table to the door that was untouched and sat hesitantly, appetite lost. All he had to do was get through an hour of this, he thought painfully. If he paid close enough attention, he could tune into other people’s conversations, and if he closed his eyes and drifted far enough, he might actually imagine that he was a part of them. 

“Hi!”

Janus’ eyes shot open and he shrunk back as if he’d been slapped. Standing in front of him was a guy he recognized from his math class, bouncing on his heels enough to make his blonde curls fall into his eyes. He was grinning from ear to ear, gleaming teeth matching the white collar that stood out from under his blue sweater. 

“Do you want to sit with us?”

His critical glare didn’t deter the overly joyful guy as he gestured over Janus’ shoulder, encouraging him to look. He did, albeit reluctantly. Four people were sitting at the table behind him, three caught up in a spirited conversation. The last one was staring back at him owlishly through thick square glasses, and surprisingly, Janus wasn’t unsettled by the look. 

“Come sit with us!” The happy guy said again, looking like he was refraining himself from just grabbing Janus and pulling him over. His round glasses had started edging down his nose as he hopped from foot to foot.

“Are you sure?”

“Yep! Please?” He drew out the word for several seconds. Janus couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips, nodding mutely and gathering his backpack. His anxiety started again, pelting him with ‘they’re going to hate you’s and ‘this changes nothing’s, but he pushed them down resolutely. It was just the one meal. Tomorrow would be back to normal, eating lunch by himself in Mr. Sanders’ room. And he really couldn’t say no to that hopeful face. 

“Yay! Okay,” He led Janus to the table, dropping into one of the two empty seats and pointing to the one next to him. He took a deep breath before gushing on, “Sit! Okay, okay, okay, so I’m Patton, purple-hair is Virgil but they hate the name so you can just call them V. We all call them V. That’s Logan, and the twins are Roman and Remus. Remus has the white streak, but it’s actually really easy to tell them apart once you get to know them.”

Janus’ blood froze in the middle of Patton’s gleeful rant. Those names… those were all the names that kept popping up over the five months of secret soulmate snooping. That wasn’t a coincidence, right? Most of those names weren’t exactly common.

His eyes shifted to the two Patton had introduced as Remus and Logan, sitting shoulder to shoulder across from him. Remus had halted whatever he was talking so animatedly about in favor of greeting the newcomer, but Janus couldn’t get himself to wave back. Instead he dropped his gaze to their loosely intertwined hands on the table, feeling somewhat lightheaded at the identical golden stains covering both of them. 

So... he ran. He wasn’t proud of it, and he was somewhat certain that he’d made a scene, but he couldn’t do it. His own self doubt was crippling, all his fears rushing him full forced and reminding him just how little he mattered, how messed up his life had made him, how he would only ruin any possible relationship. This was all too real now. They fit so well to the picture he had unintentionally made of them in his mind; navy blue button up tops and slicked back hair, green bomber jackets and mussed up shoulder length curls. Eyes that glinted with barely concealed mirth, a dimpled grin revealing almost razor sharp canines. Two polar opposites, so perfectly built for each other, soulmates. He would just come along and ruin it. 

Screw the sun, he thought, as he sat on the scalding hot bleachers by the football field. To his extreme annoyance, tears had started drifting down his cheeks, and he hurriedly wiped them away from sheer habit. His dad didn’t like tears almost as much as he didn’t like Janus. It wasn’t like they would know it was him, right? All they knew was a stranger had been invited to their table and had booked it before they even got his name. So he could stay a mystery, a fly on the wall, for the rest of his days.

The all too familiar feeling on his arm was more of a curse now than it ever had been. Resigned to his fate, he rolled the sleeve up to read whatever the two were no doubt talking about. 

Hi. 

He looked around frantically despite his better judgment, his eyes landing on a figure standing at the end of the bench, uncapped pen in one hand and one blue sleeve rolled up. Logan regarded him with a careful look, locked in a staring contest that neither wanted to look away from. The other broke first, turning his focus to his steps across the rickety surface as he approached Janus. He took a seat, mumbling something about how hot it was, before scribbling something else onto his arm and capping the pen. Janus tried to fight the urge to look down at his own still-bare arm, but he couldn’t resist a quick peak.

I found him. Bleachers in the north field.

“Why don’t you take off the gloves, at least. It’s almost ninety degrees out.”

Welp. Apparently this was happening. “How did you know?” He whispered, not touching his gloves.

“Remus and I both felt naturally drawn to you as soon as you walked into the cafeteria. We could not and still can not explain it. When Patton followed our gaze, he was more than eager to invite you over. Not that he needed the prompting, I am certain he would have invited you over regardless of Remus’ and my feelings the moment you sat alone,” Logan stopped briefly, taking note of the new green smiley face under his last message, “Your reaction to our names and hands in rapid succession was enough to solidify our previous suspicions. That-” He pointed to the shared messages on their skin, “-was the final proof I needed.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, Janus at a complete loss for words, until a loud clang to their right grabbed both of their attentions. Remus was clinging to the railing like a vine, having climbed all the way from the bottom, he realized with a start. The older man crawled over the top and landed solidly, rattling the seats, before bouncing over to them.

“Hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi hi!” He plopped onto the bench in front of Janus, sitting backwards to face them. Consequently, he was slightly lower than the other two, and could see Janus’ usually ducked face for the first time. “Oooh, I like your birthmark! Is it a birthmark? Or a burn? Either way, I don’t care. I like it.”

“Gee, thanks,” Janus snarked before he could stop himself, his self protective tendency rising to the surface. Remus only giggled in response, manspreading a tad more and leaning forward on his elbows. 

“I like him, Logan. He’s feisty.”

“I’m so glad I have your approval.” He was on guard now, he couldn’t help it.

“Remus, stop pestering him. He just met us.”

Remus grumbled under his breath but held his tongue. Logan could silence him, he’d have to remember that for the future. If they had a future. He couldn’t help the sliver of hope since they had actually come to find him… but maybe it was to let him down easy. No clue.

“When did you turn eighteen?” The question shouldn’t have shocked him the way it did; it was a valid thought.

“Five months ago.”

And he waited, expecting the worst at the sharp intakes of breath from both of them. Expected them to stand up and leave. Expected them to call him a creep. Expected them to… anything, really. 

Well, anything except take his hands. Which they both did.

It was like they could speak telepathically, the way they seemed to be so in sync. Maybe that was a soulmate thing. Remus reached forward and weaved their fingers together at the same time that Logan placed his hand over Janus’ left one, squeezing it gently. They were both calming gestures in their own ways, and admittedly the most contact Janus had felt in maybe years. If that wasn’t enough to bring back his tears, Logan’s next words certainly were. 

“Why didn’t you write right away?”

“That’s so much missed time we could have spent together,” Remus chipped in, eyes surprisingly soft. 

“I…” Oh, for fuck’s sake. Better let them see how messed up he is now so they can walk away before he gets attached. More attached. “My parents are soulmates and they ended up hating each other. He’s a jerk, he hurts her and me and I didn’t want that to happen to me and my soulmate. Soulmates, I guess. Then the first thing I saw was you guys talking, and I realized, there’s two of you,” He laughed humorlessly, shrugging nonchalantly, “You wouldn’t be missing out if I never made myself known, and what kind of asshole would I be if I intruded on your relationship anyways? It’s not like I can add anything worthwhile. I’m not… that great of a person. I never have been. I have too much baggage and I’m pretty boring and I only scare people away so if I were you I’d get out while I had the chance.” His cracking voice gave away how he actually felt, and he despised himself for it. In all honesty, there was nothing he wanted more than to be held and loved and wanted. He’d never had that before in his life, was it a crime to not want to be pushed aside forever?

To his utter confusion, neither of them pulled away. He’d just vented to two strangers, and they were still as attentive as before. 

“Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that,” Remus hummed in a decent impression of John Mulaney, letting his thumb glide over Janus’. 

“So if I’m correct,” Logan stated in a tone that implied he usually was correct, “You didn’t contact us because you didn’t want to burden us, or get yourself hurt.”

“I mean… yeah.”

“I’m going to kill your dad,” Remus chirped all too brightly, “For hurting you. And for ever making you think that we would hurt you.” 

“Remus!”

“It’s true!”

Logan sighed heavily, “Remus is a little extreme, sometimes, but he is harmless. Look, I can assure you that your presumptions are entirely false. We would never harm you, and anything you’ve gone through in your past, what you call baggage, is not a deterrent to us in the slightest.”

“I have bipolar disorder, and a whole wacky past that we’ll get into another time,” Remus added, waving away Logan’s ‘shut up’ face, “And in the fifteen years I’ve known this nerd, he’s always stood by me.”

Janus knew it was supposed to feel better, but learning that the two have known each other since long before they knew they were soulmates suddenly made Janus feel that much more like he was intruding. Remus must have noticed his expression, because he quickly kept going.   

“All I mean is that we have our fair share of baggage, my multicolored friend-”

“Remus!”

“Both of us do. So you won’t be hurting us in any way, shape, or form. And we won’t hurt you either.”

Janus’ own doubts were still raging inside him, but each word they said was adding splashes of water, slowly dousing the flames, much to his dismay. Even Remus’ attempts at humor were delighting him in ways he wasn’t used to. 

“For some reason, the universe wants us together somehow. We’re meant to be in each other’s lives. Aw gross, that sounds like something Roman would-”

“Trusting us will be a slow process, and we understand that,” Logan interrupted smoothly, “You don’t need to believe our words, because we’ll prove it to you. Alright?” 

It took a second until Janus nodded, but he did. He could hardly understand it himself.

“Can you start by telling us your name?”

“Janus.” It was a near whisper, a confession of the name he’d disliked since he was old enough to get bullied by his peers.

“The two faced Roman god of decisions, doorways, and new beginnings,” Logan spouted as if on instinct.

“Janus,” Remus repeated slowly, before a huge grin stretched across his face, “I love it.”

[thefinalcinderella]

Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 2)

I will finish this novel by the end of summer...no matter what

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. According to Wikipedia, the second leg of Hakone is 23.1km from Tsurumi to Totsuka and the longest leg of the race, so traditionally the fastest runner of each team runs this leg. It’s called the “Leg 2 of Flowers” because all the aces of each school take part in it

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The race unfolded at a fast pace right from the start.

Kakeru and Kiyose were part of the first group that consisted of twenty to thirty people. Kakeru was impatient to do a spurt, but he was admonished by Kiyose, running next to him, to “calm down,” and he managed to control his impatience.

Two black transfer students from Saikyo University were in the lead. In no time at all, they had established a lead from the first group and were already rounding the first corner of the runway. Iwanki, the black transfer student from Koufu Academy and a Hakone regular, also followed them resolutely. Iwanki was an ace in his final year of school who had run the second leg (1) of Hakone for three years in a row, and Kakeru felt the ace’s pride and ardor for Hakone as he stared at Iwanki’s distant back running far ahead.

As though influenced by the three in the lead’s running, the first group also passed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-nine seconds. It might have been due to the fact that the JSDF’s runway was so wide that it was difficult to get a sense of distance; considering they were running twenty kilometers, it was a pretty fast pace. More and more people couldn’t keep up, and by the time they rounded the second corner, the runners were already all stretched out lengthwise.

Kiyose checked his watch and turned around. The other Chikusei-sou members were in the third group that consisted of seventy to eighty people, and they were running together.

Kiyose went out to the edge of the course, where it would be easier to see him from behind. His palm was facing down, signalling them to “restrain themselves.” According to the rules they had decided beforehand, he indicated numbers with his fingers in succession, telling them to “run up to five kilometers within three minutes and ten seconds per kilometer. The rest is decided by you.” “Decided by you” was indicated with a gesture of opening and closing his palm near his temple. He could see Yuki and Shindou nodding and quickly informing the others around them.

“Are we slowing down too?” Kakeru asked.

“Are we?” Kiyose asked back.

“No.”

He had absolutely no intention of doing that. As Kiyose ran, he lightly tapped Kakeru’s back.

“Once we’re on the regular roads, there will be new developments. When the time comes, just launch forward without worrying about me.”

Hanako had finished gathering the bags near the start point and was cheering on the residents making the second lap on the runway. It was so expansive that when the runners were running at the farthest side, she could only see specks. But as the group approached, she could feel the earth shaking, and when they passed before her eyes, she could feel the breathing of the runners and the heat dissipating off their sweaty bodies.

With a stopwatch in hand, Hanako was amazed.

Everyone is running at such a fast speed. They’re even faster than I would be if I pedalled my bike with all my strength. The runners are passing by so quickly that I can barely make out their faces—and they’re running a whole twenty kilometers at this speed.

The three black runners passed by, and about forty meters behind, the first group arrived. Kakeru and Kiyose were among them; they were still carrying themselves lightly and compactly, with calm expressions on their faces. The surrounding spectators cheered, “Let’s go!” Hanako also tried to call out to them, but she couldn’t; a lump of air was stuck in her chest.

The twins were in the third group. The eight people of Chikusei-sou were together, running as hard as they could to not fall behind—to get even a little bit further ahead.

“The lead is at a pace of two minutes and forty-nine seconds. Don’t let yourselves be dragged along!” As Hanako conveyed that information, she realized that she was on the verge of tears.

I never knew that the running form could be this beautiful. What a primitive and lonely sport this is. No one is able to support them. No matter how many spectators there are around them, no matter if the teammates they practiced together with are with them, those people are currently continuing to run using everything in their bodies, all by themselves.

They ran two laps on the runway, and after they had run five kilometers, the gap between the black runners in the lead and the first group was more than a hundred meters. A middle-aged man near Hanako clicked his tongue.

“Japanese runners are so weak.”

Not at all, Hanako wanted to say. What are you looking at? There’s no difference between those leading and those following. Why can’t you see the seriousness in their faces and their determination to overcome their physical limits? There’s no weak person here.

Clenching her fists tightly, Hanako’s eyes chased the Kansei uniforms. Don’t lose. Everyone, please don’t lose.

Even Hanako herself didn’t know what she was praying that they wouldn’t lose against; was it the rivals from the other schools, the people who were spectating along the route while making arbitrary judgements, or was it they themselves who were running? She didn’t know, but Hanako prayed with all her heart: she didn’t want them to lose. To anything.

Yaokatsu called out to her.

“Let’s go, Hana.”

Hey, hey, Yaokatsu prompted Hanako. “Everyone looks like they’re in a good position. Let’s wait for them at the finish line.”

The plasterer sniffed and nodded. It was the first time the people of the shopping district had seen track athletes running at close proximity. The speed was breathtaking, and they couldn’t help but be moved by how bravely the people of Chikusei-sou were competing, by no means inferior to anyone else.

They’re always laughing like idiots, but they were serious. They were serious about running. Watching the qualifiers, they finally realized that.

The people of the shopping district picked up the towels and water bottles and began to move through the park. They had to secure a good spot on the grass clearing to welcome the runners after they finished the race.

Hanako was blinking, drying the tears that had welled up. This was no time to cry. The race had only just started. She had to believe in them and do what she had to do.

Holding the plastic sheet, Hanako vigorously walked through the grass wet with morning dew.

The race took on a new dimension when they passed the five kilometer mark and went out onto the regular road. The first group began to come apart. The gap with the lead didn’t shorten, but it also didn’t get longer. It was still a very high-paced race, and some were falling behind.

Kakeru and Kiyose were firmly in the first group, which had about ten people; they were surrounded by ace runners from TSU, Kikui, and Koufu Academy. Kakeru confirmed that Sakaki wasn’t there. No sense of superiority or, of course, sympathy sprouted in Kakeru’s heart. He only thought, “Oh, I guess he couldn’t keep up with the pace.” But I’m going further. I’m gonna break away from this group.

At that point, the staff inside the leading car that was loaded up with TV cameras shouted in admiration, “Oi oi, there’re Kansei runners here. They’re doing pretty good!” But of course Kakeru and Kiyose had no way of knowing that. Where would the race go? They were playing a silent game with the runners around them.

Large track teams had backup members posted along the route, who were able to relay the positions of each runner and the pacing instructions from the coach. However, Kansei didn’t have enough people, and Kiyose had to pay attention to the other runners as well, not just his own running. Occasionally, he turned around to look at the situation—the eight people from Chikusei-sou were still huddled together, taking rear positions in the expanding second group. The previous second and third groups had also broken up, and those who weren’t left behind seemed to have merged with those that couldn’t keep up with the first group.

It could be seen from the twins, Musa, and Yuki’s faces that they still had spare energy left. Shindou and Nico-chan were calm, striving to maintain their own pace. King was managing to keep up, but Prince would soon be at risk. The Chikusei-sou group was also stretching out vertically.

More than that, if the members stuck together any longer, those with slow paces might drag them all backwards.

They passed the seven kilometer mark. The first group’s time for the last kilometer was 3.05 minutes. The race had slowed down a bit compared to the initial fast pace. This was probably due to the group psychology of being afraid of running out of steam in the latter half, as well as the slowing down of Iwanki, who was in third place, running a little further ahead.

It would only be after ten kilometers that some from the first group made a spurt, which Kiyose had judged would happen. There, of course, Kakeru and Kiyose had to cling on, but they also had to consider the impact on the rear. There would definitely be those who fell behind or fell off their pace because they lacked stamina, and the people of Chikusei-sou could not be swayed by it.

Kiyose approached the center line and made another signal towards the group in the back. He rotated his right arm widely. “Move out soon.” He fluttered his right hand’s fingers near his temple. “You guys can break up.” Next, he made a fist with his right hand and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck.”

Except for Prince, who couldn’t afford to do it, everyone raised their hands lightly to indicate they understood.

“Kakeru. Starting from the ten kilometer mark, the first turning point of this race will come. Don’t fall behind.”

Kakeru nodded at Kiyose’s whisper. He could sense that, both from the breathing of the runners in the first group and the fact that the scrambling for positions that would make it easier to break away was intensifying. The runners were inferring with each other, keeping each other in check, and waiting for their chance.

Even as they left the street in front of the station and approached the monorail overhead, there were spectators lining the streets along the way. But their voices were distant. They only caressed his ears like the roar of the sea, and tore back in an instant. It was because he was concentrating on the race, and Kakeru was reminded once again that today, his body was moving well.

There were times when his body felt light, but his pace didn’t reflect it. On the other hand, there were days when he felt like he wasn’t doing well, but was actually running at a very good pace. No matter how much he practiced, there were many times when his body and mind didn’t sync well in a real race, creating illusions.

Just to make sure, Kakeru dropped his gaze to his wristwatch for the first time; he had come this far at a pace of two minutes and fifty-seven seconds per kilometer. It’s not an illusion. Just as thought, I’m in good form today. Even if the race speeds up, I can still do it. I can go even faster.

Kiyose seemed to sense Kakeru’s confidence. Running next to him, he said “Whoa there,” as though calming a horse. “Wait, Kakeru. You’re free to do what you want after we pass the ten kilometer mark.”

If he put on a spurt too soon, he would self-destruct. Kakeru answered “Yes,” and controlled himself, not dropping his pace.

As soon as they passed under the monorail and saw the ten kilometer mark, the first group moved as expected.

A third-year from Kikui and the TSU captain put on a spurt. They pulled ahead of everyone except for Kakeru and Kiyose.

Using them as a shelter from the wind, Kakeru stayed right behind Kikui and TSU, who were competing against each other. After running about five hundred meters, he murmured, “I’m going.” Kiyose nodded without a word.

Kakeru overtook Kikui and TSU by running around them from the center line, and he continued to run according to his own rhythm. He didn’t have the leisure or urge to look back, but the sound of footsteps moving away from him was enough for him to know that he had pulled ahead and was in fourth place alone.

I feel great. The cutting wind and the road I’m stepping on are all mine for just this instant. As long as I’m running like this, this is a world only I can experience.

His heart was hot. He could feel the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers. He felt heavy—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this yet. He had to change his body more. Like a nimble beast that ran through the grassland without knowing pain. Like a silvery light in the darkness.

At the 11.2 kilometer turnaround point, Kakeru turned so cleanly that he looked like a brand-new aerodynamic machine. Slowing down is a sin. Because everything I have is for the sake of running.

Kakeru was already in range of Iwanki, who was ahead of him.

Seeing Kakeru accelerate right before his eyes, Kiyose was ecstatic.

Show me that run. The beauty of that existence, born for running.

The figure that easily surpasses frustration and envy. Like it’s some other creature. What a difference from me, who’s bound by gravity and struggling to supply oxygen to myself.

Kiyose managed to suppress his urge to shout. As expected, it’s only you. You’re the only one who can embody running like this. Kakeru, you’re the only one who can spur me on and show me a new world.

He wanted to catch up to Kakeru, but that was impossible for Kiyose, who had a bomb in his leg. He matched the pace of Kikui and TSU. Both of them were doing their best to get over the shock of being overtaken by Kakeru even though they had put on a spurt. How would this affect the ups and downs after they enter the park? The only tactic that remained for Kiyose was preserving his strength and taking a gamble on the end. He didn’t have the leeway to look behind him anymore.

But, he could feel it—the other eight had definitely witnessed Kakeru flying out from the group. He could tell that they were excited to see that sparkling running.

Jouji saw Kakeru, who was running past the turnaround point, from the front. He had the same face he had when he was jogging, his breathing composed and no hint of pain in his face. But, his eyes are different, Jouji thought. Kakeru’s dark eyes were shining with joy. It was the joy of just being in the act of running.

Kakeru probably didn’t know what kind of face he makes when he’s running. Jouji felt jealousy and affection at the same time. Can I run as purely as Kakeru? So innocently and freely to the point it’s inhuman. I want to run. Jouji thought. I want to run like Kakeru too.

Nico-chan groaned at Kakeru’s running as he ran right past him. I didn’t think he’d be that fast. How fast can he run when he’s going all out? That glint in his eyes is dazzling. It’s like he’s proving that there is such a thing as chosen ones.

But I’ll run through to the end. Nico-chan sucked air into his lungs that were beginning to scream. I can’t afford to fall behind Kakeru in my will to run.

The people wearing Kansei’s uniforms, with Kakeru in the lead, were connected by their passion and strength, and like a constellation shining in the night sky, they formed a single shape to reach the finish line.

---

Hanako staked out a spot on the grass clearing and then hurried towards the park course. The cheering squads from each school were crowding near the finish line. The spectators also formed a double or triple wall of people waiting for the runners to arrive. Since it suddenly became very noisy, the birds flew out of the park trees in surprise.

About fifty meters from the finish line, Hanako finally found a gap in the wall. Saying “Excuse me” as she slipped through, she was able to join the front row. She was wearing a Kansei jersey, so the spectators guessed that she was a staff member and considerately made room for her.

Hanako looked at her stopwatch; fifty-three minutes and thirty-five seconds had passed since the start of the race. They’re running twenty kilometers, so it’s going to take a while no matter how you look at it.

Just when she thought that, the sound of cheers approached like a wave. The cheering squads of each school were singing their school song and waving their flags about as though this was the critical moment.

The leading runner appeared from the shade of a green tree: it was a black international student from Saikyo University. Next was another black student, also from Saikyo.

“Amazing…” Hanako murmured.

Amidst the roars of the crowd, the two international students crossed the finish line in fifty-eight minutes and twelve seconds and fifty-eight minutes and twenty-eight seconds respectively. The word “unrivalled” would be a fitting word to describe their physical ability. Hanako wondered what happened to the Chikusei-sou members. While applauding the runners who finished, she stood on tiptoe and looked at the course.

A figure appeared, turning the curve. Hanako screamed in spite of herself. She couldn’t find the words.

It was Kakeru.

It was Kurahara Kakeru who approached the final stretch right before the finish line in third place.

“The top places are going to be the black runners anyways.”

Even the spectators who had been whispering that to each other erupted in undulating roars, unmatched by the ones earlier. Hanako forgot herself and was shouting, “Kurahara-kun! Kurahara-kun!”

It didn’t seem like Kakeru was hearing anything.

The ragged breathing passed in front of Hanako in an instant. Kakeru was only looking at the finish line straight ahead and dashed through the fifty meter distance as though he was running short distance. The spectators were swept away by his running which was brimming with persistence and fighting spirit.

The area in front of the finish line was silent for an instant, as though a saint had passed through.

Hanako checked her stopwatch. Kakeru had finished in fifty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds. Iwanki finished five seconds later. Kakeru had beaten the ace of Koufu Academy.

A buzz filled the area in front of the finish line.

“That was Kansei. I’ve never seen that school in Hakone before.”

“They have one amazing runner there.”

He’s Kurahara-kun. He’s Kurahara-kun, who’s still a first-year. Hanako wanted to say that to everyone around her. However, there was no time for that, because the trailing runners were reaching the final stretch in front of the finish line one by one.

---

When Kiyose passed fifteen kilometers and entered the park, he made his spurt as planned. Kikui and TSU increased their pace at almost the exact same time, but he had no intention of losing.

When he sped up on the upward slope, he felt a faint discomfort in his right shin. Shit, he thought, but he didn’t mess up his breathing or show it on his face—he was done for if his weakness was discovered. Right now, every second counted. It was not the time to worry about old wounds.

Kiyose continued to speed up without hesitating. The cheering squads’ musical performances were in complete harmony, singing in a chaotic scale. A few familiar faces from the shopping district seemed to be shouting along the course. However, he couldn’t hear anything. The Kikui runner pulled another step ahead. Every time his sole touched the ground, he felt a numbness in his shin. Even so, Kiyose had no intention of being outdistanced.

“Haiji-san!”

He definitely heard Kakeru’s yell. Kiyose poured his last strength into the muscles of his legs and practically collapsed through the finish line. He managed to move to a position where he wouldn’t be in the way and put his palm to his shin. It was hot. He was tied for sixth place with the Kikui runner. His time was exactly sixty minutes.

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[trulivin]

On the Job

Golden Eyes Part 2 | Part 1

A/N: SURPRISE SURPRISE. Here it is! (Finally). One down, seven more to go. Sorry it’s taken so long, but I hope you enjoy this! As always, send feedback! Enjoy! I figured you guys would like this better than another update. I got a lot of this done last night so I did my finishing touches tonight. Hopefully I caught all of my mistakes! 

Also I’m thinking about doing a tag list for whenever I post imagines? Lemme know what you think.

P.S Let me know if the link works for Part 1. My computer is being janky right now. 

Kaz Brekker x Reader, Six of Crows

Warnings: Slight abuse, cursing 

*Hopefully my gif works this time*

Y/N went straight to Jesper after she left Kaz’s room. “Well hello there Ms. Sharpshooter,” Jesper bowed, jokingly as she approached. Y/N shot him a grin before asking, “So Kaz says you have a job to do and I was wondering if I could tag along?” Jesper thought for a moment, but the mischievous look on his face told her she was already allowed. 

“Hmm? Let’s see you could take anyone’s eyes out in a moment or shoot them in the head. I think you can,” Jesper replied. “Besides, we need someone to draw our target out anyways. And with those golden eyes of yours I think you can do it.” 

Y/N’s face faltered a bit, but she nodded refusing to let the idea of playing the seductress ruin this. “Great so I’ll come get you tomorrow and fill you in before we go,” Jesper smiled before heading off to the Crow Club. “Awesome,” Y/N muttered, sulking again. Of course it had to be this type of job, she thought to herself. 

“There’s the girl I was looking for!” Inej exclaimed, dancing gracefully over to Y/N, snapping her out of her thoughts. Y/N gave her a small smile and Inej’s face dropped. “What now?” she asked. “Nothing,” Y/N said as innocently as she could. “Bullshit,” Inej pursed her lips. “Nothing I swear! Kaz finally let me go on my first job with Jesper,” Y/N said. 

Inej narrowed her eyes and prompted, “But.” 

“But,” Y/N huffed, “Jesper said they needed someone as bait. And I’m said bait.” 

A look of sympathy flashed across Inej’s face, before she grabbed Y/N’s hands, leading her to her room so they could talk in private. 

Once the girls were settled, Inej said, “You don’t have to go you know. Kaz wouldn’t think anything of it.” But Y/N shook her head. “I have to go. I just got everyone to shut up,” Y/N said. “But Y/N, we both know you got the worst of it at the Menagerie,” Inej said quietly. Y/N sighed recalling all of the horrible memories. 

“Look,” Inej started, “I’m just saying, you don’t have to do this type of thing.” 

“I’ll have to at some point. Might as well be now. Besides I’ve practically been begging Kaz to let me go, and I told him I’d be fine. Do you know how embarrassing it would be if I went to him now and said ‘oh wait I can’t do this cause I’m afraid a guy is going to try and feel me up’?” Y/N mumbled. Inej gave her a funny look but said, “Kaz wouldn’t blame you. He’s not one of the nasty men. I mean he doesn’t have a conscience I swear, but he still has some respect for women.” 

Y/N snorted, “It still makes me look weak.” 

“You aren’t.” 

“I know. It’s just time. I can do this Inej. I’ll be okay.”

Inej sighed and eventually nodded in agreement. “Okay, try and get some sleep. Jesper is a hyper one to work with so you should be fully prepared,” Inej smiled, standing up. “I wouldn’t doubt it,” Y/N laughed. “Goodnight!” Inej called before floating out of her room. 

Y/N laid awake for a few more hours telling herself she was going to be fine. “It’s been over a month and you’ve been doing great,” she muttered to herself in the dark. At last, after a long while the restless girl eventually fell into a deep slumber. 

The following morning, Y/N was immediately met by Jesper. Big Bolliger was lingering in the hall behind him and Y/N assumed this was the other guy on the job. Great, she thought to herself. The guy that absolutely hates me now for almost shooting his manhood off. 

“So, you ready?” Jesper asked with wide eyes. Y/N noticed how his leg seemed to be shaking and one hand rested on his pistol, tapping on the side of it. “Uh, sure,” Y/N said. Jesper’s face split into a grin and he rushed by her. “I’ll fill you in when we get to the spot!” he called over his shoulder. 

Big Bolliger shoved past her, obviously still unhappy over the previous day, following Jesper out. Y/N felt a pair of eyes on her and turned to see Kaz making his way down the steps towards Per Haskell’s office. His impassive expression was back, but his eyes were burning with something else. Anxiousness? Concern? Anger? 

No not anger. He’s always mad at something, Y/N told herself. Catching his eye for a moment, she silently told him she was going to be okay before hurrying after Jesper and Big Bolliger. 

Kaz stopped on the landing in front of Per Haskell’s office, finding Y/N’s eyes. Quickly, he found the girl staring at the entrance where the two boys just went through. He could tell she had doubts about going, but he knew she wouldn’t back out much to his dismay. As if she could sense his presence, Kaz saw her turn around and her golden eyes met his. He sucked in a breath and silently wished she would come up to him and say she wasn’t ready and that she changed her mind. 

Unfortunately, the look in her eyes told him the opposite. He saw her eyes soften at the sight of him, but just as quickly as they found his, they pulled away, and Y/N flitted out the door and into the sunlight. 

Unbeknownst to Kaz, Inej saw the whole exchange and grinned at the thought of Y/N and Kaz. 

Y/N eventually caught up with Jesper, having to walk at a very brisk pace. “Saints! Slow down Jesper,” she exclaimed, finally reaching him. “Keep up golden-eyes. I’m in charge today and I set the pace,” Jesper snickered. Y/N glanced around nervously. She felt too exposed weaving in and out of the hustle and bustle of Ketterdam. 

“What exactly is the plan?” She asked. “Wait no, what exactly is it we’re doing?”

“We need to get this slummy little Ravkan trader to cough up some coins he owes Kaz,” Jesper said, “But he is smart enough not to travel by himself because he knows how Ketterdam is. A real con artist if you ask me. Not a very loyal Ravkan considering he hoards most of the kruge for himself instead of actually giving it to his boss.” 

Y/N nodded, trying to dodge more bodies. It was already hot enough with the sun beating down on them. How in the world does Kaz wear a tie everyday? Y/N thought to herself. 

“So,” Jesper continued, “Your job is to get the guy away from his little friend.” Y/N looked around as her, Jesper, and Big Bolliger made their way to a table in front of a little bakery across the street from some club. Y/N was tense. It felt ten times hotter already, and she was very unnerved at how quiet Big Bolliger had been this entire time. 

“There’s an alleyway, just over there,” Jesper pointed diagonally across the street to the left, a few buildings down from the club. “You need to get him over there where I’ll be covering the backside. Big Bolliger will cover where you enter the alley and we’ll handle it from there. Easy peasy,” Jesper concluded. 

Y/N didn’t say a word thinking about how she would have to lure him away from his friend. Tante Haleen’s voice rang out in her head, “Be a serpent girl. Draw them in with those eyes and then strike. The men love it.” 

“You know,” Jesper’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, “If you aren’t comfortable with this you don’t have to do it. We can find another way.” Y/N glanced at Big Bolliger and he was eagerly waiting for her response. She would not give him the satisfaction. 

Y/N shook her head, “No, I can do this. I’ll be fine. Easy peasy, like you said.” Jesper gave her a wary look but nodded his head. Big Bolliger, however, had a look on his face that ran shivers up Y/N’s spine. He was betting on her to fail so he could chew her out and get her back for yesterday. Y/N gulped and sunk in her seat watching the crowd roll by and trying not to vomit all over the table. 

After about thirty minutes of waiting, Jesper nudged her arm, “There he is.” He pointed to two fairly pale, slimy looking school-boys. The target was the taller of the two, but almost sickly like. The boy had absolutely no muscle on his body, but had a slight gut popping out from his stained shirt. 

“That’s the con artist?” Y/N asked in complete shock. She stifled a laugh as Jesper rolled his eyes. “Yes he doesn’t look like much, but that guy is pretty good at what he does. His friend on the other hand is just along for the ride,” he said. 

“Jesper, this guy is like our age,” Y/N burst out laughing. “Yes yes I know. But Kaz needed him to run something to another guy. Then the other guy made the mistake of telling him to take money back to Kaz and well you get the idea,” Jesper said. 

“Let’s go,” Big Bolliger snapped, interrupting their conversation and standing up, walking away before the two could say anything. Jesper and Y/N then stood up and he turned to Y/N one last time. “Look it’ll be ok. We’ll be just around the corner and will be on the guy as soon as you get him in the alley,” Jesper smiled at her before disappearing in the crowd. 

Y/N took in a nervous breath before making her way towards the two guys in front of the club. Putting up her best facade, she waltzed up to them, eyes on the taller one. “Win good, boys?” Y/N smirked, batting her eyes. Everything inside of her was screaming to run. 

The two Ravkans eyed her curiously, but the target took the bait. “No not today, sadly,” he said with a thick accent. “Oh that’s too bad,” Y/N pouted, resting a hand on his shoulder. The guy reeked. 

“I’m sure there are other ways to make up for it though,” she whispered, biting her lip. Gag. The man liked where this was heading, and allowed his hand to slip over her back, grabbing her waist and pulling her close. Y/N stiffened as his hand slid dangerously low. 

She pushed aside her fear and said, “Why don’t we go somewhere a little more private? I’m sure your friend won’t mind.” The guy smirked and turned to his friend, speaking something in their native language. She only understood bits of Ravkan, but this was surely something she didn’t want to hear. The two guys shared a disgusting look and high-fived before he said, “All set.” 

“Wonderful,” Y/N muttered as she turned her back to him, pulling him towards the alley. The guy stayed very close behind her. Y/N felt the weight of his hand on her lower back, slipping ever so slightly lower. She suppressed her shutter and kept telling herself, just a few more feet. Memories of slimy men flipped through her mind like a movie, and Y/N felt as if the walls were closing in around her. 

Every step she took, Y/N heard the comments about how such a little girl was so beautiful, but along with that Tante Haleen’s words echoed through her mind as well. Every beating, every client who made her cry, everything terrible. 

But one voice kept her walking, ignoring the man’s hand, ignoring his breath on her neck. I don’t want to see you get hurt like that again. You don’t deserve it. Kaz’s voice was the loudest of them all. She didn’t know why, but she didn’t care. He kept her from drowning, and his voice gave her that sense of hope that she could make it through this. 

Y/N felt a wave of relief rush through her as she could see the alley maybe six feet in front of her now. She turned towards the Ravkan and gave him a mischievous grin. He took the bait yet again, grabbing her waist and pulling her close. His head found the crook of her neck and started placing wet, nasty kisses. Y/N had to physically hold back her puke. 

Just as they were about to stumble into the shadows, a very familiar voice rang out, “Is that my serpent?” Y/N froze. Tante Haleen was staring directly at her with an ice cold glare. “You bitch!” she shrieked. The Ravkan pulled away from her and gave her a confused look. “You know this girl?” he asked the Peacock as she was approaching them. “Oh I know this one all right,” Tante snapped. “She wanted out of my house for the longest time. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s playing you right now! She doesn’t like when men touch her,” she sneered.

The Ravkan glanced around nervously. Y/N couldn’t move or speak. “If you’re going to act like this then I’ll just bring you back to where you belong!” Tante Haleen screeched pushing through the crowd. The Ravkan took one more glance at Y/N before bolting. Before Y/N had known what happened though, Big Bolliger’s body slammed into the Ravkan and dragged him into the alleyway, not before shoving Y/N onto the ground. Tante Haleen reached the girl on the ground and yanked her up by her hair. Memories of the night Y/N took the beating in public resurfaced. 

“I told you I’d take you back in chains,” the woman snarled in Y/N’s face. Tante’s hand ran across her cheek and Y/N could feel the tears burning in her eyes. She slapped her repeatedly and threw the girl back on the ground. You don’t deserve it. 

Y/N’s head cleared as soon as she heard Kaz’s words echo through her mind. They were as clear as day. “No,” Y/N mumbled, finally able to form words. 

“Excuse me?” 

“No,” Y/N said more firmly, meeting the woman’s gaze. “I will not!” 

Instinctively, Y/N kneed the woman in the stomach and sent her crumbling to the ground. She knew how to fight back. “I’m not scared of you anymore,” Y/N hissed, kicking Tante square in the face. The woman was knocked out cold. Y/N shook herself out and ran into the alley.

Big Bolliger had the Ravkan pinned up against the wall as he was struggling to get something from his pockets. “Thank you, thank you,” Jesper said as the guy handed him two pouches. “Alright I think we got it all,” Jesper said after counting. Y/N let out a sigh of relief as Big Bolliger let the man drop. The Ravkan immediately took off in the opposite direction and disappeared around the corner. 

However, Big Bolliger then rounded on her. He came storming at her, shoving her against the wall. She felt his hands close around her throat. Everything was starting to cave in on her again and her mind went back to awful times when men pulled stuff on her like this. “Whoa whoa!” Jesper exclaimed trying to pull him off, but he just shoved him out of the way. “What the hell was that?” Big Bolliger snarled in Y/N’s face. Y/N found herself at a loss for words again, partially from being strangled at the moment.

“You try an act all tough, but I see right through you. And you just proved it! You could’ve ruined the whole job, bitch,” his words cut through her like a knife. “All you’ll ever be is some whore that Brekker decided to pull off the streets for himself.” Ouch. 

“Dude, let her go, she did fine,” Jesper interjected. Big Bolliger glared at Y/N for a moment longer before releasing her. Y/N collapsed, coughing and gasping for air. Jesper knelt down beside her placing a hand on her back, but she flinched away from him. 

Big Bolliger snorted, “I guess I was wrong. Can’t even take a man’s touch. Looks like you can’t even be a whore right.” Y/N felt tears start to fall. Why did Kaz pick her? She thought miserably. 

“That’s enough!” Jesper snarled at Big Bolliger. “Let’s go.”

“Whatever. It’s your funeral when Brekker finds out what happened,” Big Bolliger shoved past Jesper and disappeared back in the crowd. “C’mon,” he said gently, but did not touch the shaking girl. Y/N slowly stood, feeling the throbbing in her neck from his fingers. She still felt like she couldn’t breathe. There were probably marks left too. 

Jesper and Y/N made their way back to the Slat slowly. Big Bolliger was already back by the time the pair came in. Kaz’s jaw locked as soon as he caught sight of Y/N’s face. He was not happy. Inej was by her side in an instant, “What happened?” Y/N just shook her head and made her way over to where Kaz and Big Bolliger were sitting. Jesper laid the bags down in front of Kaz as Big Bolliger said, “We were lucky I got there in time. What were you thinking sending her on a job?” 

He felt pretty confident with Kaz. “I mean, she froze and almost lost the guy cause what?” Big Bolliger faced Y/N again. Kaz noticed how she physically shrunk away from his gaze, her golden eyes wide with terror again. Kaz also saw light bruising around her neck and her face stained with tears and red marks. 

“Cause the woman from the Menagerie came to talk to her,” Big Bolliger answered before Y/N could. If she could even speak. Kaz got the sneaking suspicion that the bruises around her neck were not from the Peacock though. His hard gaze turned back to Big Bolliger. 

“What happened to her neck?” he growled. Big Bolliger’s face went pale, but he didn’t answer. “What happened to her neck?” Kaz repeated, his anger rising. When no one answered, Jesper stepped in, “This lunatic grabbed her and threw her up against the damn wall! We got the job done didn’t we?” He exclaimed. 

Y/N had never seen it before, and she was sure no one else had either. Kaz completely lost it. The table was flipped in front of him and Kaz’s cane collided with Big Bolliger’s face. “What the hell!” He cried in pain. “I stepped in when she froze up! She needed to be put in place.”

Kaz kicked Big Bolliger in the stomach causing him to hunch over in pain. “You know damn well the job got done and was successful. She got the guy over to you. I don’t care if you’re the strongest, the biggest, the whatever, you do not lay your hands on her again if you want to keep them. Suck up your pride and get over what happened yesterday,” Kaz hissed, leaning over the quivering boy, with a fistful of hair in his hand. “And get the fuck out.”  

No one dared utter a word as Kaz lifted himself up from his squatting position. Big Bolliger’s face was swollen and his eyes were now swimming with fear. Y/N had never seen Kaz so angry, and the worst part was that his eyes burned with fury much like Tante Haleen’s did whenever she disobeyed. 

“Don’t you all have other stuff to do?” Kaz snapped. The crowd broke apart as everyone scurried away like mice. Inej clung to Y/N’s arm as Kaz turned to the two girls. “Go, Inej,” he said through gritted teeth, obviously not trying to yell at his Wraith. They stared at each other for a hard moment as if she was challenging him. Eventually, his eyes narrowed and he huffed, “I’m not going to hurt her.” 

Inej still didn’t budge. 

“It’s okay,” Y/N said quietly to her as Kaz glared back. After a moment, Inej dropped her gaze and muttered, “You have a real bad habit of saying everything is okay when it isn’t.” “I know, but this time it is,” Y/N managed a strained smile before removing her arm from Inej’s and moving silently over to Kaz. For the first time in the entire day, Y/N finally felt safe. 

Too many of the wrong hands had been on her and she didn’t want to feel suffocated anymore, and with Kaz, that’s exactly what she could get. He glanced at Y/N before heading back up the steps. 

Soon enough, he and Y/N found themselves back in his room just as they were the previous day. This time Y/N finally broke down as soon as the door was closed. The horrible memories of every beating came back to her, and the stench of the Ravkan filled her nose again. Before she could stop it, she finally spilled the contents in her stomach. 

When it was all out, she felt sufficiently better and stared at the nasty puddle of puke on the floor and realized what she had just done. “I am so sorry,” Y/N looked up at Kaz who seemed to be grimacing a bit, refusing to look at the floor. “I--” Y/N’s voice died in her mouth. 

“No, no, it’s uh fine. I’ll make someone else clean it up. I’m honestly surprised you lasted this long anyways,” Kaz groaned a bit motioning her to move away from the puke. He moved her to the window sill and pushed the window open to let some fresh air in. Y/N sat down as Kaz rested a hand on the frame of the building above his head. 

The fury in his eyes were gone as he studied her tired looking features. There was a prominent bruise forming on her face and a little cut under her eye. His jaw locked again as his eyes wandered down to her neck, where an outline of Big Bolliger’s fingers bruised her neck. 

Y/N squirmed under his gaze as she felt her face heat up. But he still said nothing. He honestly didn’t know what to say. 

Finally, Y/N locked eyes with him, and she saw him take in a sharp breath. It was her eyes, gold as ever. 

“Look, I know what you’re thinking. I’m fine now. Yes I almost lost the guy, but I mean that damn woman,” Y/N started. “I don’t blame you,” Kaz interrupted. “You don’t have to do that,” Y/N hissed. Kaz seemed a bit taken aback at her outburst, but let her continue.

“You don’t need to baby me. I know I screwed up, but you babying me isn’t going to fix anything. We got the job done, I froze. That’s what happens to people like me. I’m broken, Kaz. I still don’t get why you picked me!” Y/N declared, standing up. “I’m broken. It’ll always be like this for me! Maybe I’ll get better but that pain will still be with me. I haven’t seen my family in years, I’ve been beaten, raped, tortured by the hands of disgusting men. I am completely and utterly--”

“Your eyes,” Kaz said softly, interrupting. 

“Wh-what?” Y/N asked, caught off guard at his response. 

“It was your eyes. That’s why I picked you. There was something about you that night. It,” he paused for a moment, taking a hesitant step closer to her. Y/N could feel her heart pounding out of her chest. 

“It reminded me of myself when I was younger,” Kaz admitted. They were chest to chest right now, and he was looking down at her with dark eyes. He closed his eyes for a moment and said, “It reminded me of when my brother died and who the person I was then. I--I used his body as a float. His dead body. All the way back to the mainland,” Kaz took a shaky breath, but continued, “But you. You were me. You were the little boy fighting to survive under the worst conditions. You were that person who didn’t deserve what the world threw at you. The person who didn’t have anyone to protect him. The person who had absolutely no one.” 

“Kaz…” Y/N whispered. He opened his eyes and saw tears running down her face again. Kaz brought a hand up, pausing. Taking a deep breath, he pulled his glove off revealing his slender hands. Y/N had always seen them from far away whenever it was just them, but never this close. She noticed the little scars that decorated his fingers and palm. Just like mine she thought. 

Kaz brought his hand back up to her face and she noticed he was slightly trembling. Y/N wanted to move because she knew he was uncomfortable. She didn’t want to put him in this position. But another part of her wanted to see what he’d do next. Her skin began to itch where his fingers hovered. 

Kaz wanted to do this. He knew what he did and that sick feeling began rising in his stomach without his gloves. Images of Jordie’s corpse flashed through his mind, but he stared into those liquid gold eyes. They were filled with warmth, not the cold water that nearly killed him. His mind screamed, begged him to put his safety net back on, but he wanted to feel her. And he wanted her to feel him. Not the mask of cool and rough material that could have easily reminded her of the rough hands in her past. 

Y/N didn’t dare move. She just let Kaz do what he needed. The next thing she knew, his fingertips were tracing the little scar next to her eye and down her face. For a moment, he allowed her cheek to rest in the palm of his hand while his thumb wiped away a stray tear. His hand was warm on her face and surprisingly soft. She had seen what those hands could do to a person, but  with her, they were gentle. He wasn’t the Bastard of the Barrel right now. He was Kaz Brekker. 

Kaz Brekker. The boy, Y/N had fallen hopelessly and completely in love with. 

And she was the girl with the golden eyes who he had, and would never admit to anyone, fallen head over heels for. 

He was pleased that she didn’t flinch under his touch, but as easily as those eyes melted away that drowning feeling, they still weren’t enough. He let his hand trail down to the bruises on her neck before letting it fall to his side. 

Y/N felt cold air rush around her and she longed for that feeling of warmth. But, she didn’t want to push it. 

“It’ll take time,” Kaz said quietly. She knew what he meant. And he knew she would. “Me too,” she whispered, a small smile on her face. 

Kaz’s mouth quirked up a bit as he saw the brightness in her eyes return. 

And for that moment, they were content in each other’s presence, neither asking for anything more than what they could give in that exact moment. 

_______________________________________________

I hope you all enjoyed this! That last scene with them I was listening to ‘A Thousand Years’ by Christina Perry when I was writing to it, and that LITERALLY made it ten times better so I recommend going back and reading it while listening to that song lol. 

[purplesurveys]

896

Would you ever try Fear Factor for one million dollars? Why or why not? Yes. It would make for hilarious stories for get-togethers and I think that winning a million dollars that I could use up for the rest of my life doing some dumb dares for a few hours would be worth it. If you have a camera, when do you use flash? Only if it’s dim. I don’t like the effect that flash gives. What would you do with eighty-three crazy straws? Find an aunt or uncle with a kid who’s having a birthday party soon so they can use the straws as giveaways or something. If you use hair spray, what brand do you use the most? I don’t.  Is Catcher in the Rye in your library by any chance? It’s probably in another college’s library, most likely our college for the arts and letters. There’s no reason for it to be in a mass communication library.

What if there was no such thing as the word 'one'? Then that would imply that we have/have to have plurals of everything, which just sounds a bit bizarre to me.

What do you have automatic sympathy for? The 11,000 employees of the country’s biggest broadcasting network that was recently officially shut down by our – surprise surprise – government. These are people who weren’t even involved in the network’s franchise renewal status (which was/is the main issue), people who have families, people who relied on these jobs to get by during a worldwide pandemic, people who loved their jobs, people who found family in these jobs, It’s absolutely crazy how people can defend their stance against the network and justify the loss of 11,000 jobs. What is a cool disposable object? I don’t know who looks at disposable objects and thinks they’re ‘cool,’ but the first thing I thought of was my vape pen of choice, which are disposable. It has enough puffs to last several months with me so it’s more convenient for me to keep buying them than spending a large amount on a refillable one. Hilary Duff or Lindsay Lohan? Why? Hilary Duff as Lizzie McGuire is more nostalgic to me; I used to watch it nearly everyday. I never watched Lindsay’s movies other than Herbie. What do you think of the actor Michael Cera? No opinion but I remember the time when he was often used on 9Gag memes. Simpler times lol. Anyway, I haven’t seen any of his movies. What is the best thing about a Barbie doll? I think it’s really fun how they’ve come up with a bazillion outfits for Barbies and Kens. And different versions too – as far as I know there’s been a Filipino Barbie for a while :) What is something you'd say in your will? If I passed any time soon I’d like to include some things about my dogs and how they’re supposed to be taken care of. If we’re talking about what I’m putting in my will if I ever reach like 80, I just wanna make sure every person who’s been in my life and stayed for a bit is mentioned and thanked and I wanna make the list as expansive as I possibly can at that age. Idk, I’ve always been sentimental. Any thoughts on fake abortion clinics? What??? I don’t know what those are and what they do, but they sound awful. What was a username you'd thought wouldn't be taken but was taken? I’ve tried using my full name as a username in a few websites and seen them being taken. My first and last names don’t make a common pair, so I’ve always found it surprising. Cherry or peanut ice cream? Peanut. Not gonna lie, it’s an unusual flavor – but Asians kinda put peanuts on everything heh. What is your dream cellphone? Why? Whatever new phone Apple puts out because unfortunately I buy into toxic consumerist shit like that lol Would you rather be watching The Bachelor or The Bachelorette? Neither. From one to ten, how big of a movie buff are you? I’d give myself an 8. I’ve seen my fair share of movies and I can honestly say that my favorite films are not cliche picks, but I’ve also yet to see a bunch of classics that other ~movie buffs~ hail as being excellent movies like Taxi Driver, Silence of the Lambs, Rocky, American Psycho, etc. I also haven’t been watching movies as much as I used to, which takes down another point for me. Who is a celebrity you think will never get into trouble? The Irwin kids. I wouldn’t call them celebrities per se though; they’re in the spotlight for the most wholesome reasons. I’ve seen every segment Robert Irwin has had on Jimmy Fallon and it’s amazingly precious. What is an important holiday to you? Why? Probably the EDSA Anniversary because without it we’d still be under a dictatorship. Name a catty girl you really dislike. I wouldn’t call anyone I know that. What is a museum you would like to go to? The top 3 museums that I would love to visit are the Anne Frank House, the Met, and the Art Institute of Chicago. And wherever Monet’s paintings are, because he’s my favorite artist. Personally, do you look better with short hair or long hair? Short. Long, frizzy hair does not look good on me and on anyone else. What was the reason why you last blocked a person from your IM? He was a stranger who hit on me. I added him back only because we had a considerable amount of mutual friends and I thought that maybe he used to be a classmate or something, but he messaged me some shit that he had probably copy-pasted to 700 other girls saying like ‘hey do you mind if you and I talk? I find you really pretty’ like six seconds after adding him back. It was so fucking creepy and I never blocked someone so quickly. I was already in a foul mood that night so I also showed the brief interaction to Gab and I gave her freedom to curse the shit out of the guy if she wanted to. What is a cliche thing that happens a lot in anime? I don’t like anime and have never watched it. What are your views on the cartoon show Invader Zim? I’ve never seen that either. If you have some, what is tonight's homework about? I don’t have homework anymore. If you have one, what is your favorite sushi flavour? Cream cheese salmon rolls from a local place called Torch. What is the first thing you think of when I say 'Jack'? Rose. Do you understand JavaScript coding? A teeny bit, thanks to the theme customizations I used to do on Tumblr when I was 14. What would you do if you found a gun in your best friend's bedroom? Confront them, and maybe even scold them. I definitely would be angry. Not even just because it could mean they’re suicidal, but because I don’t believe in guns. What do you call your grandparents? I call both sets Lolo and Lola. When I say 'Go', you say: I just remember the song Green Light by Beyoncé because the chorus on that is her screaming ‘Go.’ What colour do you usually paint your nails? I never paint them. They’re pretty, but I never saw them as a necessity. What would be a cool earring design? People come up with cool designs all the time now though. I’m completely sure there are a million versions of this now but I would love sriracha sauce earrings haha. What do you think of raccoons? No opinion as I’ve never encountered them. Any thoughts on the actor Paul Rudd? NEVER AGES Who is the better liar: your mother or your best friend? Mom. Gab will lie to me sometimes but I can always tell. Are breast implants something you'd consider? Why or why not? I considered it when I was a teenager because people used to pick on me for being flat-chested, as if I had a choice as to what size my body would end up being. Also, flat chests were the butt of so many jokes in the early 2010s so it made me insecure for a very long time. Nowadays the environment is a lot nicer and I’m seeing many flat-chest positivity posts (if that’s even a thing) so I’ve changed my mind about implants.  Besides nightmares, what is the scariest thing about sleeping? Sleep paralysis. You can wake up from nightmares. Do you find the phrase 'nom nom nom' annoying? Not as much as ‘rawr’ annoys me. Do you look better with red lipstick or black lipstick? I look good in neither but I would go with red. When was the last time you had chocolate milk? Oooooh it’s been a while :( I feel like that’s something people have to start selling more, honestly. I don’t see chocolate milk being sold other than at the grocery or convenience stores and ugh, I just want more restaurants to add it on their menus lol. That being said, the last time I had it was in January, during a journalism workshop that we hosted in a school in Marikina. The teachers offered us that and a Fudgee Bar as thank-you snacks :)

[punkscowardschampions]

Grace & Janis

Grace: OMG you and the new boy! 💘🙌 Grace: love that for you babes Janis: lol thanks Grace: 😂😂 k yeah you're busy Grace: I will need that goss tho Janis: dumb and dumber will make up their own to fill in the blanks, I know Grace: LOL Grace: obvs but like Janis: you want the actual truth to spread, yeah Janis: you're alright, soz you won't get that cred Grace: UM rude I want the truth to know Grace: You're MY sister, hello Janis: 👌👌 Janis: hey Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: ugh just say he's boring whatever Grace: I know the feeling Janis: leave the games to your mates, and the jumping to the wrong conclusions, yeah, we ain't playing that shit Janis: why would I bother if he was, like every other cunt here Grace: Duh I'm only here cos of Leon Grace: so unbothered too Janis: 'course you are Grace: I unbae-d him hun, obvs am Janis: yeah, so you're here just for the fun Janis: cool Grace: I'm here to show him what he's missing so yeah Janis: 'cos you 'unbae-d' him Janis: defs the actions of someone very unbothered and not a girl who got dumped and is seeing how fast he gets a new bitch, and who Janis: count me as not it, yeah 👍 Grace: not even! I know he's seeing Kaya and like I said, idc Janis: well then, not showing him nothing then, he don't miss you Grace: OMG this is so yesterday Grace: here for your 😍 not my 🙄 Janis: are we? Janis: I'm here to pass PE Grace: not what the new boy's here for tho Janis: yeah, not in my class Grace: I know Grace: he takes art Janis: lol why do you know that Janis: you don't Grace: why DON'T you know that? Grace: 🔎👀 Janis: not out here doing a survey Grace: I hope not Grace: keep it sexy honey Janis: sexy Janis: you sound like a nan Janis: a weird one, at that Grace: 🤞 you don't look like one Grace: what ARE you even wearing rn OMG Janis: yeah, 'cos I'm the one that thinks a cardigan is stylish Janis: my pjs? Grace: 😱😱😱😱 Grace: YOU'RE JOKING Janis: it's not particularly funny but Janis: knee slap away Grace: I literally can't help you Grace: 🙏 bitch Janis: everyone's ready for bed, what are you chatting Janis: I wasn't getting dressed again Grace: not everyone's ready to bed a hot boy tho Grace: I can't even with you Janis: if we were gonna fuck he'd see even less so Janis: don't think he's any more bothered than I am Grace: That's SO not the point Janis: are you gonna tell me Janis: cba to guess, like Grace: we do not have time for a masterclass! Grace: 🙏 you're right babes Janis: considering I'm here, I clearly am Grace: unless he's literally inside you rn in which case EW don't chat to me Grace: you don't know that for sure Janis: why would you even say that Janis: you're twisted Grace: Oh please Grace: I'm a nan, UM okay Janis: yeah, and I'm not interested in the incest you're peddling, thanks Grace: why would YOU even say that Grace: so gross Janis: you brought it up Janis: you think you'd be better at gaslighting by now Janis: tell your boyfriends to up their game Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: tell your boyfriend you don't always do 0 effort, he might be new enough to fall for it Janis: you get one that stays longer than the 3 minutes it takes him to pump and dump, I'll listen to your 'advice' Grace: you get one EVER & maybe I'll take it Janis: yeah, egg on my face for not letting every lad that wants to inside Janis: lmao 🥴🥴🥴 queen of romance as if you've ever had that either Grace: I've turned down so many lads THANK YOU Janis: 😂😂😂 Grace: 👌👌👌 👋 Janis: k yeah you're busy Janis: turning away all those elligible bacherlors will take all of two minutes of you staring at yourself delusional in the mirror, like Janis: nighttime routine! Grace: You're such a bitch Janis: Yeah, you too Grace: Literally where?? Janis: we do not have time to go through all those receipts! Janis: honey Grace: You don't Janis: 💔 Grace: sure Janis: Go talk to Holly and Jessica, they'll make you feel better Grace: I'm doing my night time routine, babes Grace: duh Janis: besties who cry together, no Janis: that's your whole schtick, they'll be inconsolable by now Grace: I'm not crying off a £35 mask Grace: you'll all have to get over it Janis: how effective it is on you, you may as well use it on them instead Janis: revenge acne, very cute Grace: I'm so sorry that my skin needs like a £100 one, okay? OMG Janis: yeah well, I appreciate you realise how tough it is on me Janis: tah babes Grace: leave me alone Janis: I have Janis: 💔 remember Grace: fine, go away Janis: find a spare room and make that feasible Grace: don't even bring him here Grace: I s2g Janis: it's alright, he don't fancy you Janis: the mask won't shatter the illusion, like Grace: Exactly, so just don't, okay? Janis: I'm not going to, Christ Grace: 👌 Janis: Really, Grace, what the fuck Grace: ???!! Janis: like I'm gonna fuck anyone when you're in the room Grace: like that's what I said or meant Janis: yeah, so as per, you can have your friends in whenever Janis: gotcha Grace: that's different Grace: my friends aren't boys Janis: wouldn't make a difference to you Grace: OMG I'm literally saying it does Janis: and it's bullshit Grace: sure Janis: you know it is Grace: no I don't Janis: you want an example of how much of a bitch you are, case in point Janis: my friends were never good enough, male or female Janis: yet we all have to put up with yours every weekend Grace: You don't have friends for me to judge Grace: if I was even bothered which I'm obvs not Janis: Convincing as it was first time 'round Grace: UGH Grace: I'm happy for you but I don't need to extend that to a welcome party in our room like Janis: Whatever Janis: later then Grace: Bye Grace: Are you back in for good? Janis: Probably Grace: I'll get the light then Janis: 👍 Janis: I would've found my way alright, like Grace: sure but I'm not breaking my neck thanks Janis: from the bottom bunk? Janis: impressive Grace: the amount I overpacked is Grace: cannot move Janis: note the 'over' there is negative, not positive Grace: oh great 💘😘 hasn't put you in a better mood Janis: you're the one here copping an attitude 'cos I won't enable your problem, but go off Grace: if you wanna invent problems for me to have, you go off hun Janis: the 'you've got enough' comes too easy Janis: make me work for it Grace: & you're never too busy, yeah? Grace: poor boy 💔 Janis: you see him here Janis: specifically not, on your orders 'cos you out here looking like shrek Grace: he just left you, give him at least one sec of thought like Grace: so rude Janis: capable of having more than one at a time, sweetheart Janis: god bless Grace: LOL Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: no use, won't be able to spot your brain like that Grace: Thanks for the advice Grace: I was gonna say it for actually doing what I asked but you're right back to being a bitch again so 🤷 Janis: 'cos the definition is famously 'do everything I say or you're a cunt' Janis: you'll never be Mia, babes Janis: not got that kinda clout over them, let alone me Grace: OMG stop Janis: 'cos you know it's true Janis: no bigger bitch than your bestie Grace: You can take the title if you want it babes Janis: your bestie? Janis: no tah Grace: the biggest bitch Janis: same difference Janis: keep up Grace: You don't even know her Janis: we ALL know her 🙄 Grace: She can be a lot, UM HELLO, so can I Janis: 😱 NO Janis: fucking hell Janis: what a revelation, call the press Grace: The rumor mill is focused elsewhere rn Grace: 💔 obvs Janis: I know Janis: get a nude 'leaked' like your fat friend Janis: worked for all of ten seconds Grace: if you want me to kms sure Janis: 🤷 Grace: won't call the press on that revelation hun Janis: I wouldn't Janis: bit embarrassing Janis: not all publicity is good publicity Grace: you'd know I guess Janis: 😂 you're actually jealous Janis: that's funny Grace: of what? Grace: you losing your virginity finally Janis: there's nothing sadder than sounding like a rode hard put away wet slag full of regret at 15, for starters Janis: we get it, you've never had an orgasm or a 'man' that weren't a piece of shit, get a vibrator and put down the cigs, Shirley Janis: and secondly, not got time for the list when you know perfectly well what Grace: & there's nothing more tragically desperate than getting with that boy cos he doesn't know anything about you Grace: he'll find out Janis: and everyone knows everything about you Janis: rather, they could, if they were interested to ever look Janis: it's gotta be hard being 10th most interesting, even Junior had some closeted appeal Janis: 💔 Grace: okay Jan, you're so mysterious Grace: good luck working that angle for another 15 years babes Janis: good luck being a bleeding heart for that long Janis: interest in the sob story ran dry long before your eyes have ever Janis: how infuriating, I don't want it, actively try to get rid of it, and I still get more than you Janis: gutted for you, truly Grace: sure Janis: I know, sympathy ain't what you want Janis: but it's all that's on offer for you so chow down, babe Grace: 😂😂 you think you know me like that Janis: everyone does, remember Janis: you think you get it both ways Janis: take that whilst you can 'cos it's coming up for 5 years and truly, the dead sister bit is dead Janis: Kiera O' Malley's dad died so it's #overparty sweetie Grace: You're twisted Janis: no shit Janis: get them to get you a therapist, all the 👂👀 you can buy Grace: Why would I go when I can send you in with all the issues you've invented for me Grace: hmu with the highlights hun Janis: Christ, don't pretend you don't know Janis: you want that angle Janis: to be this pathetic AND unaware of it Janis: self-awareness is your only shot at some dignity at this point Grace: I know all my angles thanks Janis: it's super funny when you pretend to be a full-time bimbo Janis: not tired at all Grace: IKR 🙌 Janis: kinda sad Janis: do you ACTUALLY think they'd rather be friend with the OTT 'happy' bitch, genuinely? Like you HAVE to know all your 'friends' are waiting for is the inevitable meltdown when you fall apart so they can see what earrings they can scavenge from your carcass Janis: livetweeting how #problematic you are and finally saying how little they fucked with you, anyways, but all the best in life, nothing but love, girl 😘 Grace: Oh honey, I'm 100% not that bitch EVER Grace: can't you spy the dynamic from your moral high ground? awks Janis: oh honey, just 'cos they're keeping the runt around to fatten up, does not mean you're not next on the spit Janis: sadder than I thought Janis: you'll actually be sad when it happens, fuck me Grace: flattered to be called out as that thin tbh Janis: ha, eating disorder gang got jokes Janis: burns calories Janis: not AS much as crying though so crack on Grace: Mhm so does hooking up, so you'll have a way into the squad now hooray Janis: not the way y'all do it, pillow princess Grace: you've never seen the way I do it Grace: my tapes are yet to be leaked Janis: as if they're filming Janis: darling if you were any good, you'd get callbacks, not pied off before a camping trip Janis: but god bless with that #metoo spirit Grace: everyone's ALWAYS filming, check your socials Grace: & I dumped him so 👏 for bringing that fake news back Janis: nah, you didn't Janis: you should get dumpee tatted right under your doormat forehead tat Janis: let 'em know just how much they can get away with Janis: so hot Grace: were you there lurking or are you finally over that now? Janis: lol i'm the one with the obsessive personality Janis: now you're just being silly Janis: check your socials Janis: you've not copped that totally 'anon' post with all the tea only a REAL bestie SHOULD know? 🤔 Grace: I came here so obvs I am ridiculous yeah Janis: no shit Janis: you should be home, smacking her in the face Janis: but you've chased after a lad who was 3 fingers deep in another silly bitch at brekkie Janis: that's fun for you, yeah? Grace: 🥊 is more of a look you like to wear Grace: but sure Janis: sort it out Janis: it's not bad enough you let anyone with a dick in this town make a mug of you, you have to let her as well Grace: I didn't come here for Leon Grace: he wishes Janis: This is why I can't do this with you Janis: he doesn't and you did Janis: crying otherwise helps your case none Janis: actually do something about it if you don't like the narrative Grace: That is literally what I'm doing Grace: if I stayed home it would look like I was crying over him Janis: well right now you just look like you're stalking him Janis: maybe if you tried with the activities, like Grace: ugh that's easy for you to say Grace: it'd look really good when I tried & still can't do it Grace: Get a clue OMG Janis: I ain't saying become Bear Grylls Janis: just have a laugh, with the other girls on this trip that ain't too scared to look anything less than their knock-off idea of 'perfect' Grace: as if Grace: the other girls on this trip don't wanna be my besties Grace: 🔪 are out Janis: 🙄 Janis: yeah and that helps the lads fuck all of you over Janis: just build a fucking raft together, don't need to braid each other's pubes and make friendship bracelets on the last day Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: no bitch fucks with me, I ain't getting pushed into the lake Grace: I'm not you Grace: 💔 obvs Janis: yeah, use some of that scathing attitude on the people who need to hear it Janis: why can you be a total bitch to me but you'll 😢 and hold back on every other cunt who actually wants to see you fail Grace: you're my sister Janis: don't remind us, yeah Grace: never Grace: it's bad enough we're sharing a room rn what am I 9? Janis: not my fault your bestie can't fart without breaking a bone Janis: if I could share with anyone else, obvs 💔 Grace: it's not my fault either Grace: anything she does Janis: wasn't about to say you were the instigator of the starvation army Grace: Duh Grace: not looking like this I'm not Janis: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: her dedication to ending up in the ground with all her #thinspiration goals is not aspirational Grace: & neither is this Janis: soz, you wanna truffle shuffle louder, I didn't catch the scope of your GINORMOUS wobbling jelly rolls from here Janis: shut up Grace: you've literally said worse to me Janis: and? Grace: don't tell me to shut up Grace: so rude Janis: you know I ain't here to listen to you chat utter shite Grace: I just said, it isn't & so have you before Janis: That's your problem Janis: getting your esteem from people who hate you Janis: yourself included, naturally Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: if that were true Leon wouldn't be my ex Grace: go tell him to shut up if you're so concerned Janis: if it weren't true, you wouldn't have fucked with him in the first place Janis: or include him on the list, he's a prime twat Grace: We get new boys literally never & you 💍 him when we did Janis: don't be dramatic Janis: you go for the wrong ones to begin with Janis: correction, they go for you and you don't tell 'em to fuck off Grace: Oh okay yeah I'll date the 🤓 Janis: Probably better than getting piped n pied by the fuckboys Janis: seriously, how many have you lot got in common, it's grim Grace: not if I don't understand half the words they say Grace: I've got you to make me feel stupid Grace: & the others, 10th most interesting, right? 🏆 Janis: you want to be stupid Janis: or at least be seen as, pretend you are like that makes all this shit okay somehow Janis: who am I to deny you that, bimbo? Grace: 😂😂 you don't know what I want Janis: neither do you, chuckles Janis: it's a shit show Grace: Exactly Grace: but I know what I don't want & it's 🤓 thanks Janis: like there's two choices Janis: you don't live in an american teen drama, much as you make-believe it Grace: like I'm spoilt for any Janis: stop being so judgemental Janis: not gonna do you any favours Janis: if I need to tell you that, when I go out of my way to do it, you've got a problem Grace: neither is running some kind of virgin training school Grace: but sure Janis: 🙄🙄🙄 alright Grace Janis: continue to cry about how shit your friends are, how shit the boys who fuck you are, whilst only letting the worst people into your life Grace: OMG I'm just saying everyone already thinks I'm gonna take my clothes off every time I upload Grace: I don't need predatory status against 🤓 Janis: because I'm saying fuck every nerd in school without prejudice Janis: I'm saying there's plenty of alright lads who would like you that you won't give the time of day right now Grace: bitch where?? Grace: an alright lad likes YOU not me Janis: so all boys are shit Janis: like all friends bitch behind each other's backs Janis: YOU'RE settling because you don't reckon you could do any better, that no one decent would fuck with you, admit that 'cos blaming the world ain't gonna change the world you're surrounding yourself with Grace: SO DRAMATIC Grace: I know I can't, I've been sat down here saying it literally the length of this convo Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Grace: I've said it, you have, Leon has, the boy before him has Janis: Nah, you won't try Janis: you're scared everyone's right Janis: get some fucking ambition and get out of this town or you're gonna end up like the rest of them Janis: knocked up by some prick from 'round here and that's all you've got Grace: cos this town is the problem Grace: as if Janis: death tolls high for a reason, baby Janis: Carly, Eds, they were trying to escape too fucking late and they only way they could Janis: at least they got out, everyone sensible has Janis: Ma, Rio, they're fucking stuck for life Grace: they were trying to escape people, things, whatever Grace: she was no happier anywhere else we lived Janis: we were babies, you don't remember that Janis: that's the bullshit they've fed you 'cos it's all that keeps them from doing themselves in with the guilt Grace: okay Janis: anyway, semantics, if you want it that way, girl Janis: it's this family we all want out of Grace: but we can't Janis: yeah, we can Janis: where's Billie, where's Junior, Nancy Janis: like I said, anyone with sense jumped ship there and then Grace: that's away not out, nobody gets to be out Janis: they're not coming back Janis: they're as out as she is Grace: no they're not Janis: get a clue and check out 'til we can actually go too Grace: check their socials then check hers Grace: she's the only one who died Janis: worse than dead Janis: least you can all pretend she didn't wanna go, yeah Janis: she was coming back Janis: they're actively choosing to stay the fuck away, every day, and they're right Grace: She was, Janis Grace: cope with that Janis: she's dead anyway, cope with that Janis: all the family love in the world ain't saved none of us, her included Grace: It's not me hiding behind her Janis: it's not hiding when you don't want to be found Janis: and you can babble on about what an open book you are but you're the biggest fake of them all Janis: at least da flaked all those times he couldn't hack it, at least ma's a cheat who's fucked over everyone she 'loves', at least Rio is a whore who's fucking her own family to boot Janis: they talk a big game on the happy family, but their actions say otherwise Janis: you're just, here Janis: hoping we all get it back, like it was ever good Grace: #fakeittilyoumakeit babes Grace: I'm 15 where do you want me to go? In Billie's footsteps cos LOL that modelling career is a no Janis: you miss the part where I said check out 'til it's over Janis: let it go, Grace, let everyone go, because they're gone Grace: I'm still waiting for you to tell me how Janis: It ain't hard Janis: they might not be as forthcoming giving you reasons to hate them as I am Janis: but it's not taxing to find 'em Janis: bubbling under the surface, barely Grace: I hate you but we're still having this chat Janis: it's all perfunctory Grace: like I know what that means Janis: Truer words Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 okay Janis: Night Grace: 👋 Janis: [Assault death drop] Janis: 💀 yet? Grace: about to kms Janis: 🙌 Janis: you really took our little talk to heart Grace: literally nothing to do with you but 👌 Janis: sure it is Janis: you think you're getting solo interest rn? Janis: I'll tell 'em it's gone from a sickbed to a deathbed, see if they go for it Grace: UM I don't want it thanks Grace: I can die of shame away from the 👀🍿 Janis: Bollocks 😂 Janis: it's the most fun you've had all trip Grace: You said do activities! This is so your fault Janis: See, you took multiple chats to heart, awh Janis: you're not even hurt, just your ego Grace: OMG I am not in the mood Grace: go away Janis: damn, lanky and large not fluff your pillow just right Janis: can't get the staff, babe Grace: 😱😱😱 Grace: you know what's wrong you were LITERALLY there Janis: yeah, you eat shit, the boy laughed Janis: an amusing scene but not one you need to hide in the sickbay for Grace: STOP Janis: you're so self-involved, take a look around, baby, plenty people making mugs of themselves, it's half the point Janis: Kerri-Ann gave herself the biggest wedgie on the aerial course Janis: probably picking that out still today Grace: okay that was funny Grace: but just Janis: I get it, it's not funny when it's you, yeah Janis: better to laugh it off though than be a primadonna or that'll be your camp moniker by the end of this and your ladies in waiting will have to kms too Grace: I can't now Janis: well, I'll tell you when it's safe to come out Janis: when the fat lad takes a tumble or whatever else is the laugh of the minute Grace: I picked him to be my partner so this wouldn't happen! 😠😠😠 Grace: boys are so unreliable like Janis: they're not famed for their use of words, give you that Janis: it was an accident, like Janis: no wink wink nudge nudge let's let the bitch fall was happening Janis: the teachers aren't that useless, quite Grace: thank god Grace: I'd have to kill him before myself & my wrist hurts so like no Janis: you started slicing already Janis: hit up the samaritans this ain't my scene Grace: 🙄🙄 Janis: come on, that was funny too Grace: no Janis: spoilsport Grace: You still won, get over it Janis: Obviously Janis: who else would Grace: not Leon that's for sure Grace: that girl makes me look athletic Janis: 😂 Grace: she's not even the one he's telling people he dumped me for Grace: but I'm a slag, okay Janis: ladies, ladies Janis: you're BOTH slags Grace: LOL Grace: I'm gonna get dad to pick me up Grace: give it my best 💜 por favor, venha me resgatar, pai 💜 Janis: don't be dumb Janis: you'll look like more of a baby than you already do Grace: &? Janis: you're supposed dying of shame in there Janis: it's counterproductive Janis: get up and get over it, minimal damage Grace: like you care Janis: Obviously not Janis: but you apparently do, so much Janis: so think on Grace: to what? I shouldn't even be here anyway Janis: you want the lasting impression to be the girl that showed up, threw a paddy and then ran away Grace: focus on the fact you'll have your own room babes Janis: exactly Janis: why you tryna do me any favours Grace: not about you hun Grace: embrace the concept Grace: & new boy's 😍😍💘😘 Janis: yet I win again Janis: alright Grace: it's not me v you Grace: it was me v Leon & there was a glimmer of hope in one quite fit lad but 💔 obvs Grace: not gonna get with him if he can't handle a blindfold, am I Janis: that was your master plan Janis: jesus Grace: Duh Janis: Ooh Leon, lemme prove what a slag I ain't and a total catch and fling myself at a random boy Janis: showed him Janis: lucky it didn't work if that was your idea of a point to you Grace: No, let me show you how much I don't care that you think I'm a slag & neither does anyone else Grace: that boy included Janis: he definitely cares Janis: banking on it Janis: honestly, get a clue Grace: whatever it's not about to happen Janis: good Janis: 'cos that's the stupidest thing you've said all holiday and that's saying something Grace: such a bitch Janis: such a stupid slag Janis: we've all got our cross to bear Grace: Yeah Janis: 🙄 fucking hell Janis: anyway, they've stopped talking about you and da has a job so don't be a dick Grace: like that'd stop him or you're concerned about anything he does Janis: like you are Janis: least I don't pretend to care so he'll drive me places Grace: 🙄 let it go, he's not answering Janis: probably on the phone to his actual favourite Janis: 💔 bummer Grace: Mhmm Janis: wouldn't say you're 10th on that one but definitely not 🥇 Grace: you're 10th, I'm 9th Janis: Nah, idiot Janis: the white kid was 10th, it's pretty obvious Janis: Junior's 9th 'cos he literally hated him so much from birth he had to bounce Janis: Billie is 2nd 'cos came back for her, Pablo's 3rd, Iggy's 4th, rest you lot can duke it out for 5,6,7 and I'll take 8th Grace: not now she's dead, she isn't 🙏✞💕 Grace: & Junior has to be higher up now so he can repent honey Janis: kid yourself he weren't relieved Janis: ain't no one but black grandma believe in that shit Janis: and that's just as a handy-dandy rule book for him #sparetherodspoilthechild #obviously Grace: he's kidding himself, doesn't matter what I think Janis: nah Janis: he's happy being cucked, clearly Janis: plus competition got lower once Carly pegged it Grace: 🤷 Janis: n'awh Grace: worry about yourself and getting Ollie out of the way now I'm stuck here Janis: why would I Grace: cos you're 😍💍💘 Janis: so? Janis: you can do one, idc where you are Grace: UM NO Grace: you can Janis: nah Janis: you've got no use for a bed rn Janis: piss off to your friend's room Grace: being a bitch isn't gonna help you here babes Janis: then stay Janis: see how much that helps you Grace: so twisted Janis: you're the one refusing to leave, apparently Janis: been warned Janis: 🤷 Grace: EW Janis: don't worry, maybe your fwightened lil virgin theory will finally pay off for you and you can feel better about your own sexual history at my expense Janis: 🤞 for you babes Grace: OMG stop being gross Grace: I don't wanna see what's all over my feed thank you Grace: I definitely don't need IRL access Janis: 😂 Janis: OK nan 👌👌 Janis: you've always been the definition of can dish it out but not take it Janis: poor boy(s) 💔 Grace: I've never fucked a boy in front of you Janis: there's a lot you ain't done but I've heard plenty about Janis: difference between us is I ain't all talk Janis: you'll have to fuck off then, won't you Grace: cos everything you've heard is the truth Grace: oh please Janis: I mean from YOUR mouth Janis: it's empowerment and ownership when you do it, and Rio can get it all out for everyone at the right price Janis: but nah, not me Janis: you wish I was half the virgin you reckon, then you'd have ONE thing over me, yeah? get a grip Grace: I repeat, I'm not doing it in front of your face, bitch Janis: I repeat, you try to tell EVERYONE how good you are in the sack 'cos you know there are 3 hotter sisters to choose from Grace: No I don't! Janis: it's pathetic, stop it Grace: You're being extra & if you need ME to tell you, stop it Janis: What's your edge then? Janis: go on Grace: why is everything a competition with you OMG Janis: because it is, always has been Janis: come on, this is your thing, what's your target demo, babe, who are YOU catering to? Janis: you wanna be a 2nd rate Ri forever, yeah, cool Grace: SHUT UP Janis: Exactly Grace: You want me to hate you, I do Grace: Let it go Janis: not how hate works Janis: you really got to thinking Edie might care 'cos she let up, gave it some time and space Janis: no chance Janis: you ain't gonna forget Grace: I'm not doing this with you rn Janis: nah, you ain't Janis: put your face on Grace: it's always on hun Janis: You look a state Janis: and he's coming over Janis: get over it Grace: He's not coming to see me Janis: Who is Janis: Never stopped you before Grace: freak out about him all you want Grace: directing it at me tho Grace: really Janis: why would I Janis: I know who I am, who I'm catering to Janis: I'm the effortless one Grace: sure Jan Janis: maybe you'll think of a better selling point one day Grace: maybe you'll stop being so closed off one day Janis: don't count on it, babe Janis: especially not tonight, yeah Grace: 🤞 he isn't Grace: easy to fake being a person for a few days, yeah? Janis: said as if you'd know Janis: doormat's easier to maintain, right Grace: 😂😂😂 Janis: Yep Janis: thought so Grace: You think about me too much babes Grace: it's getting lowkey weird Janis: these convos might set your world alight but remember that big word I taught you Janis: yeah, that Grace: 👌 Janis: 👋 Grace: 🙌 Janis: forgetting you got no place to be? Grace: you've got somewhere, go Janis: I've told you, I'm not leaving Janis: very injured, like Grace: 💔 Grace: tragic tbh Janis: his thoughts exactly Grace: awks if they are Janis: only for you Grace: you too that he's figured you out that quick sweetie Janis: and you're sat there wasting your whole life? Janis: we knew you weren't the brightest but bless Grace: you're really seizing the day babes, how could I compete Janis: you couldn't Janis: maybe you'll win the genetic lottery in your next life Janis: be the best dungbeetle ever Grace: how #motivational Grace: love that Janis: it's too late to be optimistic about this life Janis: but I got faith in you there Grace: ILYSM obvs Janis: ew don't even pretend Janis: put me off, obvs Grace: obvs not Janis: 😂 you're precious Janis: if I knew all it'd take to get you to shut up was telling you about my exploits, I'd have started ages ago Grace: If you had any ages ago, sure Janis: oh babe Janis: really still going with that bit Janis: can't let it go, can you Grace: can't tell the truth, can you Janis: what would you know about that Janis: #fakeittilyoumakeit right babes? Grace: I mean, obvs don't tell him unless he's into that #duh Grace: some boys get lowkey weirder than you're being about it so Janis: again, what would you know Janis: no one's buying that for you Janis: can't have it both ways 💔 Janis: or either, if you're you 💔💔 Grace: I was once thank you Grace: that's how it works Janis: NO! 😱😱 Janis: you mean you didn't come out the womb so sexually empowered, colour me #shook Janis: it's so natural, you wear it so well Grace: IKR Janis: Oh God 😂 Grace: Ew don't give me a preview of your sex chat Janis: yeah, you would imitate bad porn Janis: you know boys mute that shit, yeah? Janis: as per, too fucking loud, Gracie Grace: 😂😂😂 Janis: no one fucks with that fake shit Grace: thanks so much for your expert advice Janis: welcome, welcome Grace: obvs not Janis: all very obvs with you, obvs Grace: LOL Grace: fun chat babes Janis: as always Grace: g2g relearn all my bedroom techniques so like Janis: bit gross to do that with your pals Janis: can't say I'm surprised Janis: another porn-like trope Grace: literally so gross Janis: I said it first, darling Grace: 👏👏 Janis: have fun, ladies Grace: duh Janis: 🤢🤢🤢 Grace: 🙄🙄🙄 Janis: soz, they ain't my type, like Janis: shouldn't come as a surprise Grace: It doesn't Janis: 👍 Grace: 👌

[dani-ellie03]

Fic: Wednesday’s Child (23/23)

Title: Wednesday’s Child Summary: The next time Emma Swan wanted magical help, she was on her own. Because now they were stuck with a pint-sized savior who clearly had an attitude problem and a terrified but pretending not to be pre-pirate. Spoilers: If you’re current, we’re good. Rating/Warning: PG-13, mostly for safety. Family angst/fluff, as per usual. Disclaimer: Once Upon a Time and its characters were created by Eddy Kitsis and Adam Horowitz and are owned by ABC. I’m just borrowing them but I’ll put them back when I’m finished! Author’s Note: So, um, this ended up a lot longer than I anticipated. Little Emma and Little Killian were just too much fun! Oops! Thank you to everyone who’s read, commented on, liked, and reblogged this little tale of mine! You all are amazing. :)

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At ff.net and below.

Tagging @shealivedarnit

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All Emma Swan had wanted to do was give her parents a simple little anniversary gift.

Okay, so maybe her home movie idea hadn't exactly been simple – more like next to impossible, as it turned out – but honestly, in all her imaginings of worst case scenarios, some minor bouts of irritation between here and Regina were the extent of it. The years of magic and magical research alongside Regina had taught her that the two of them had a rather tenuous working relationship. Frustrations easily built between them but they could just as easily let said frustrations go enough to push forward with the project.

Never in a million years had Emma thought that a potion could go so horribly wrong. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined the potion blowing up in her face, accidentally transforming her husband and herself into small children. One wrong ingredient and a simple memory extraction had become their own personal magical DeLorean.

Emma was mortified.

Neither she nor Killian remembered the potion going poof. As far as they were concerned, one minute they were adults and the next they were rugrats. Which was all well and good but that also meant Emma had no idea what they'd done wrong. Hopefully Regina knew because spending two days as a ten-year-old was not a mistake Emma intended on repeating any time soon, thank you very much.

"And Regina never said specifically what the wrong ingredient was?" Killian was asking her parents.

"No, she didn't," Snow replied.

"And we didn't ask because we kind of had bigger things going on," David added, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Well, littler things. You know what I mean."

Emma gave him a sheepish smile. Yeah, she did know what he meant. She couldn't even imagine how they must have felt to be presented with a couple of ten-year-olds in place of two grown adults.

Before anyone could say anything further, what sounded like a herd of elephants bounded down the stairs. Said herd revealed itself a moment later to be Henry, holding a freshly changed baby Neal, and Wilby, who trotted along at the kid's side. The second Henry's gaze landed on Emma and Killian, a grin broke out on his face and he ran at them full force.

In less than a second, savior and pirate found themselves crushed in a hug with a teenager, baby, and dog. "Oh, I'm so glad you're back!" Henry exclaimed, his voice choked with emotion. "I mean, don't get me wrong. You guys were really fun when you were little but I missed you so much."

"We missed you, too, lad," Killian murmured into his hair. "Thank you for being such a wonderful playmate."

Even the squirt was happy to see them. Neal babbled at a frantic pace, waving his fingers through Emma's hair and giving little squeals of delight. The memory playing with him and making him laugh the day before hit Emma square in the chest. Her tiny baby brother had loved her in her kid form and he loved her now, recognizing his big sister in any incarnation. "And we missed you, too, squirt," Emma said around the lump in her throat as she lifted her brother from her kid's arms.

Her parents got a loving chuckle out of that one.

But it was Wilby – sweet, loyal Wilby who'd clung to her side the entire time she was little – happily pawing at her legs that made her lose it.

The tears seemed to arise from every emotion. Joy that she'd finally found people who would stick by her. Anger at those in her life who hadn't. Pure, unadulterated love for her family. Sorrow for the lonely little girl she'd once been. Happiness that the lonely little girl had finally gotten a taste of what she should have had. Sympathy for the frightened little boy Killian was. Delight that he now had some happy childhood memories, too. Pride for the way her entire family had come together to include him.

And Killian … the memories came back to her now, the way the two of them were drawn to each other even as children. The way she protected him and the way he took care of her. The way they comforted each other and encouraged each other.

Even as children, they shared True Love.

The emotions were far too much for someone who'd been ten years old a minute ago.

"Oh, sweetheart," Snow murmured as she and David joined the group hug. Another memory pushed its way to the surface: Emma telling her parents that she liked their pet names for her. Kiddo from David and sweetheart from Mary Margaret were the first pet names ten-year-old Emma could remember being called and she'd adored the idea that these two people cared about her enough to have special names for her.

The six of them plus Wilby stayed in the hug, sharing love and comfort, until Emma's tears stopped falling. "I'm sorry," she said sheepishly when everyone separated, sniffling back the last of their tears. "I've got kid emotion and adult emotion running through me at the same time and I guess I'm still a little all over the place."

"You don't have to apologize, kiddo," David said around an emotional tremor in his own voice. He smiled gently, drying Emma's cheeks with the sides of his thumbs. "It's perfectly all right."

Emotions settled, Henry asked, "So you do remember everything, right? How do the memories feel to you?"

Sensing that Emma wasn't quite up to answering just yet, Killian took up the gauntlet. "Sometimes they feel like they were only yesterday – because, well, they were – but other times they feel like they were ages ago."

Emma nodded in agreement. "It's weird. They're vivid because they just happened but they also have a faded edge to them as if they'd happened when I was really ten."

"Aye. So yes, lad, we do remember and we can't thank you all enough for taking such good care of us."

"It was our pleasure," Snow assured them. "Thank you for giving us such a wonderful opportunity."

Emotion threatened to overtake Emma again so she did what she did best: deflected it with a joke. "So what you're saying is we need to make magical screw-ups more often."

Just as she'd hoped, everyone laughed. "If more magical oopses mean we get more Mario Kart time, then yeah, you do," a cheeky Henry replied.

Though the mood in the room had been lightened, Emma still felt the need to go splash some cool water on her face. She excused herself to do just that and headed upstairs to the bathroom. On her way down the hall, she passed the room she and Killian had stayed in, the one that still looked like the loft in the tiny apartment she'd shared with her family.

She stood at the door a moment, taking in the detritus of life with children. A pair of socks lay on the floor next to Emma's bed and books covered Killian's nightstand. The mini planetarium Henry had given them still sat on the bed where Killian had slept. The dresser drawers were filled with tiny clothes.

It amazed her how quickly her ten-year-old self had felt comfortable in this room. She couldn't possibly have recognized the furniture but on some level, had she known that she'd belonged here?

"Emma? Are you all right?"

Emma jumped at the sound of her mother's voice. "Yeah, I'm fine," she said, turning around to face Snow.

Snow gave her such a knowing, motherly look that Emma's heart caught in her chest. "No, you're not. What's going on?"

"No, I really am. I was just thinking … this room, well, the apartment with you, it's the first home I ever had." The touched sparkle in her mother's eye gave her the courage to continue. "And now it's the first home little me remembers, too."

Yep, that totally did it. Tears welled in Snow's eyes as she wrapped her arms around her little girl in a hug. "I'm so glad we got the chance to know you."

"I'm glad I got the chance to know you," Emma murmured. "And I'm sorry you had to let me go."

Snow pulled out of the hug and held Emma at arm's length. Her love was etched on her face and her voice was strong and sure. "I'm not. You, Emma Swan, are my baby. You always will be, no matter how old you are."

At that, Emma felt another rush of emotion: pride and comfort and joy at being somebody's baby.

Once their emotions were back under control, Snow and Emma headed back downstairs. Emma met Killian's gaze across the living room and he instantly gravitated towards her. "You all right, love?" he murmured, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah," she replied as she leaned into him and rested her head against his shoulder. "Are you?"

"Aye. Your family gave me the chance to know what being in a family felt like. Those are memories I will treasure for the rest of my days."

That they were.

"And I would just like to point out," Killian continued, shifting his voice to reflect a gentle teasing, "that even though we didn't know each other at all, we still made quite the team."

"Yeah, we did, didn't we?" Emma mused. "We must have felt it even then, our True Love. We were just too young to recognize it for what it was."

Killian beamed at her before pressing a kiss to the side of her head.

The kitchen was finally clean and David emerged into the living room. "I don't know about anyone else but we've got all day and I don't feel like going anywhere. Who's up for another day of hanging out?"

"Does that mean more Mario Kart?" Henry asked, making everyone chuckle.

"I'm up for it if you are, kid," Emma shrugged.

Everyone was cool with that. After all the togetherness of the past couple of days, it seemed none of them wanted to give it up.

Emma did think, though, that she probably should thank Regina and Zelena for their hard work in fixing her little screw-up. Regina had dropped off the stuff Emma and Killian had left in the vault when she'd dropped off the books to Henry so while Henry set up the video game, Emma went off in search of her phone.

Her unread messages were plentiful but one in particular from Zelena stood out: it was a picture of her and Killian, ten years old and curled up practically on top of each other, sound asleep in a pile of blankets. "All right, what the hell is this?" she asked, holding her phone out for everyone to see.

Snow, David, and Henry all giggled. "Zelena did say she sent it to you," David said. "Guess she wasn't kidding."

"Aww, we look adorable," Killian murmured. While he was mostly teasing his wife, the tenderness of his tone indicated the truth of his words.

"Okay, but really?" Emma huffed. "Did we really need pictorial evidence of my magical oops?"

"Then I suppose I shouldn't tell you about the pictures I managed to take on my phone, either," Snow laughed.

"Ooh, you have more?" Henry asked, oblivious to the furious blush coloring his mother's cheeks. "I want to see!"

Of course, Snow couldn't help but grab her phone and show off said pictures.

Though she was thoroughly mortified, Emma crowded in with everyone to flick through her mother's pictures. And as candid photo after candid photo of video games and art projects and children playing together went by, she was struck by how relaxed and happy she and Killian seemed. The overwhelming love the family shared was evident in every frame.

So, okay, maybe she did have to make magical screw-ups more often. In trying to give her parents a gift, it turned out that Emma and Killian had given everyone a gift. Her parents had gotten to know the little girl they should have known while the lost little boy and the lost little girl finally had what every child should have: the love of a family.

[obsessedauthorchan-blog]

Shakespearean Chapter 4

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Story Summary:

Jason didn't know how he managed to get into college at all, let alone such a good one, but he was determined not to mess it up.

Of course, it was after he made that decision that everything went to hell.

Chapter Summary:

Jason's first day on the job, and guess who he just so happens to randomly run into by a coincidence that was definitely not arranged by an author for plot puroses?

Hint: Timothy Jackson Drake.

Chapter:

Tuesday brought two more classes, both requisites for a degree and boring as hell. Jason was relieved when he got back to his dorm, and he nearly groaned aloud when he remembered that he had to start his first day of work at the campus library in a couple hours. He was grateful that his schedule would end up giving him Sunday, Monday, and Thursday off, but he was currently longing for Tuesday off as well.

He sighed heavily and emptied his book bag. Since his shift that day would be around 6 hours long, he wouldn't have much time afterwards for anything more than dinner, and maybe a little studying, if he wanted to get some decent sleep before an early class the next day. Knowing this, he went ahead and put everything away. He had about forty-five minutes before he would have to get ready for work and head over there, so he decided to use it doing research for his journalism topic.

Jason wasn't sure just how much research he would require. His childhood hadn't exactly been... orthodox, so he knew quite a bit about human trafficking and the like. Still, he decided some statistics would be useful. He couldn't exactly give Professor Kent a personal testament to the life of a street brat, and he couldn't get all that information on that one sheet of paper even if he wanted to.

Jason decided to stick to the facts and what would probably pass for a very short research paper. He gathered statistics on the number of kids that were sold in human trafficking on average per year, the gender, age, and ethnicity percentages, areas where they ended up, and how many kidnapped kids were generally recovered. Jason found it to actually be a lot more interesting than he had thought, and he got sucked into his research. By the time he snapped out of the zone, the clock told him he had less than an hour to get ready and get to the library.

Jason forwent a shower and dressed quickly. He then left his dorm and walked over to the library. Luckily, it wasn't too far away, so he arrived a good ten minutes early. He was greeted by his new boss, who showed him how to sign in and gave him a quick tour of the offices and where everything was. She then handed him off to another member of the staff whose mission was to show him what would be expected of him during general work hours. Basically, he was re-shelving, helping anyone who asked for it, checking books out, and other general stuff.

Once he had shown that he had the hand of things, the lady, Terry, left him to it with a pat on the back and an overly nice, "You're such a fast learner, Jason!" He meandered throughout the library, pretending to be organizing the shelves while actually checking out potential new reads. Working at the library seemed like it was going to be pretty easy going, not that Jason expected any different. Still, he had hoped he would actually get to read. Instead, he figured, he would probably have to make sure he looked busy or actually was busy all the time.

He was collecting a few books that had been left on tables by inconsiderate patrons when he saw a short, black-haired hottie with blue eyes hidden behind the most attractive glasses ever sitting at a table, frowning at the book he was reading. His forehead was scrunched up in concentration, and he didn't look pleased with what he was reading. Jason took a quick peak at the cover as he made his way over. "Romeo and Juliet, huh?"

Tim's head jerked up, and his jaw dropped a little when he recognized the speaker. "Jason?" The kid smiled at Jason's nod. "Fancy meeting you here."

Jason grinned. "Yeah, well, I work here now. This might become a thing, if we aren't careful."

"I wouldn't be too upset about that. Though I wouldn't blame you if you were, what with my hazardous coffee habits." Tim's impish grin told Jason he was joking.

Jason's laugh was probably a little too loud for a library, but he didn't really care. "Don't beat yourself up over a little coffee spill. That's my job." Tim chuckled and shook his head, but Jason didn't give him much time to reply. "Shakespeare fan?"

Tim's face contorted into a look of utter disgust, which became disdain when he looked down at the book he was holding. "Absolutely not. I thought I had gotten all of my basics out of the way in high school, but my adviser told me that I was missing an English credit, and by the time I registered, Shakespeare 101 was the only class that counted with an opening."

Tim didn't like Shakespeare. He was officially no longer boyfriend material.

"I like books. Not plays. Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Wolfe, Lewis, Tolkien, Atwood, Twain, Bronte, London; those are good authors. If I wanted to know what happened to Romeo and Juliet, I'd actually go see the play. Again." Tim ranted without taking a breath, so by the end of his tirade he drew in a big gasp of air.

Okay, so maybe Tim was boyfriend material. A little. Maybe.

Jason cleared his throat. "Well, I happen to love Shakespeare." Tim gave Jason a sharp look. "Mostly for the insults though." That got him an eyebrow raise.

"The insults?"

He nodded. "The insults. Shakespeare was a master of insults. The master. Throwing out a few Shakespearean insults at whatever dumb-ass had a problem with me always made me feel like the smartest guy in the room. Or alley, to be accurate. Then again, I usually was the smartest guy." Jason smirked. Tim's eyebrow didn't drop.

"What kind of insults?"

"Well, there's the good ol' fighting words, like, 'Methink'st thou art a general offence and every man should beat thee,' or 'I'll beat thee, but I would infect my hands.' I always liked those. There's also, 'The rankest compound of villainous smell that ever offended nostril,' 'Thine face is not worth sunburning,' and, 'Thou art a boil, a plague sore.'" Tim cracked up, and it was disturbing a few of the other patrons, but Jason could not care less. "My personal favorites though are, 'Thou sodden-witted lord! Thou hast no more brain than I have in mine elbows,' and, 'Would thou wert clean enough to spit upon.'"

Tim was still laughing, and Jason partially blamed it on the posh British accent he'd been using. When Tim had calmed down, he looked up at Jason with a smile. "Okay, so I guess Shakespeare isn't all bad."

"Yeah, but none of those were in Romeo and Juliet though."

Tim frowned and sighed. "This class is going to kill me. I didn't pay much attention to Shakespeare in high school, and I'm not all that good at it in general. His writing is too flowery and stuff. It's like decoding poetry in an ancient language."

Jason smirked. "It basically is decoding poetry in an ancient language. Or at least an ancient dialect of a modern language. Maybe try thinking of it like a puzzle." Jason remembered that Tim was a computer nerd. "Or maybe some uber complex computer code?"

Tim tilted his head to the side for a moment before nodding. "Yeah, I could try that. Thanks."

"Mhm. How exactly did you graduate from high school without learning anything at all about Shakespeare?"

Tim raised an eyebrow, but there was mirth in his eyes. "How exactly did you graduate from high school if you spent your time handing out Shakespearean insults in alleys?"

Jason smirked. "I didn't. I'm kind of the less-lucky version of Roy Harper. Street kid. Got my GED a year and a half ago."

Tim didn't quite gasp, but it was a close call. "Oh, dude, sorry. I just assumed, since you seem so smart and stuff... Wait, you know Roy Harper?"

Jason shrugged. "It's no big deal. And yeah, he's my roommate. I figured out you knew him when he asked me how my day was and I told him some douche-bag had the gall to spill his scalding hot coffee on me and make me late to my first class with Professor Kent." Jason laughed as Tim's face wrinkled and he dropped his head in his hands.

"You have got to be kidding me." He shook his head while it still lay in his hands. "This is not happening."

"It is, actually."

Tim looked up at him. "Asshole." Jason laughed, way too loud for a library, and he got a few dirty looks for it. "Now Roy is going to tell Dick and I'll never live it down."

"Dick is your older brother, right? Roy mentioned him."

"Yeah, that's him. He acts like a goodie-two-shoes, but he's actually just a little shit. That jerk-off never lets anything slide, I'm telling you."

Jason choked on a laugh. "Sorry, Tim. I guess life just sucks."

Tim scoffed. "Thanks for the sympathy."

Shifting his weight, Jason contemplated his next words for a moment before deciding to screw it and say it anyway. "You know, if you wanted, I could help you study. With the whole Shakespeare thing. I'm actually an expert, in case you didn't know."

Tim smirked. "Are you, now?"

"Totally. I'm very smart. For a street kid."

Tim rolled his eyes, but he had a small smile nevertheless. "You'd really help me with this?"

Jason snorted. "I offered, didn't I? It's not everyday someone else needs to pull on my Shakespearean expertise." He used his British accent again, and Tim laughed.

"That would actually be really cool. I'd like to be miserable as little as possible, and so far you've managed to make even lame-o Shakespeare a bit entertaining." The teasing grin brought out a chuckle from Jason, and he nodded his ascent.

"Alright, then. Why don't I give you my number, and you can let me know when or if you want to study?"

"That works perfectly."

The two exchanged phones and put in their numbers. When Jason got his phone back he saw that Tim had made his contact, "Coffee Douche-bag." He snorted and gave Tim a pointed look. The kid shrugged. "What? Tim is a very common name. I don't want you to confuse me with someone else."

Jason rolled his eyes. "That's what last names are for. Pretty sure there's only one Tim Drake in the world. At least, that I'm aware of."

Tim groaned. "Roy told you my last name, too?"

He nodded. "Was it supposed to be a secret?"

Tim sighed. "No, but still..."

Jason shrugged. "I get it. Rich kids get treated differently. I'd want anonymity, too, if I were you." Tim nodded, but Jason grinned. "Don't worry, Timmy. I couldn't care less about how much you've got in the bank, or how much Wayne's got, or anything else. You’ll always be the little shit that ruined my favorite shirt with a fucking latte"

Now Tim looked offended. "What do you mean, a fucking latte? Lattes are fantastic."

"Lattes are disgusting, even more so than regular coffee."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Well, then what do you drink? Soda?"

"Tea."

Tim suddenly looked interested. "Oh, that's cool. What kind?"

Jason shrugged. "Most kinds, actually. I drink plain black tea the most, but I like most anything. Except mint. That shit is weird."

Tim's shoulders shook with his laughter. A nearby student sighed harshly and said, "Shhhh!" Tim's whole face turned red and he whispered an apology.

"I've never had mint tea before," he whispered.

"Well then don't. It's disgusting." Jason decided to go ahead and whisper back, even though it felt kind of silly.

Tim nodded. "Yes, sir."

Jason rolled his eyes, but he stood up a bit straighter when he saw Terry the Librarian out of the corner of his eye. "I got to get back to work, Tim. See you around?"

Tim nodded once. "Definitely. And I'll take you up on that offer for a study-buddy."

Jason smiled as he started walking away. "Sure. I'm off work Sunday, Monday, and Thursday. Hit me up whenever."

Tim smiled and waved as Jason turned a corner. He almost ran right into Terry, but he caught himself just in time. He internally groaned when he saw her displeased expression. Today was going to be a long day.

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[aion-rsa]

Seanan McGuire Talks Alchemy and The Writing Process

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Seanan McGuire's Middlegame follows alchemically-influenced twins created to fulfill a dark destiny.

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Alchemy and family swirl together in the cerebral new novel from prolific Seanan McGuire, whose wide-ranging novels have received acclaim across the worlds of science fiction and fantasy. Middlegame is a study of Rodger and Dodger, alchemically-influenced twins created to fulfill a dark destiny.

At New York Comic Con this year, we sat down with Seanan McGuire at the Tor booth to talk about the process of writing the novel and why she thinks it’s her best work yet. 

Middlegame is available now from Tor.com. 

Den of Geek: What was the inspiration for the main characters, Rodger and Dodger?

Seanan McGuire: I’d figured if I could pull it off —because it was not an easy book to put together; it is possibly the most complicated thing I’ve ever written— I would wind up having a lot of very serious review outlets talk about it, and I wanted to make them say, “In this book, Rodger and Dodger do something, and yes, that’s actually their names.” And I got my wish! 

It is inspired by a piece of Pythagorean philosophy called the Doctrine of Ethos, which holds that, between them, language and mathematics make up the entire universe. So I wanted to explore that. I liked the idea of embodying cosmic forces. I think everyone human does a little bit, because it makes them more relatable. So Rodger and Dodger are the embodied human equivalents of, respectively, language and mathematics. This book follows them trying not to become the incarnate doctrine, but that’s the only way they’re going to survive. 

What about the inspiration for James Reed, a charismatic Frankenstein’s monster of a villain? 

James Reed is inspired, if he is inspired by anyone specific, by P.T. Barnum. He’s set up to be the ultimate American showman. His whole job is to sell you shadows. But he’s not a nice person, he’s not a good guy. And he’s built to do exactly what he’s doing right now. 

What was the genesis for the book’s look at alchemy? Is alchemy interchangeable with magic? 

It’s magic in that the things alchemy can do in this world are literally impossible under any scientific framework. I’m using alchemy mostly to refer to what you might call sympathetic magic. If you take a piece of something and can make it alive, you can make the whole thing alive. If you take a piece of something and make it to be something other than what it is, you can convince the whole thing to go along. So there’s a lot with sympathy, and that’s why the protagonists have rhyming names, so they would be connected even at a distance. 

“The Impossible City” specifically is more a concept than a place, but has a certain element of place to it, in the sense of characters trying to journey somewhere. How do you create that tone?  

The Impossible City actually comes from a series of books by A. Deborah Baker called the Up-and-Under. The first of which was Over the Woodward Wall. Those are not real books—yet—but they are books within a book, so there are excerpts from Over the Woodward Wall throughout Middlegame. And any time that the tone was slipping I just think about how you talk about Oz, or how you talk about Narnia or that sort of thing when you grew up with it.

The hardest thing was synthesizing a feeling of these people really grew up with this book that didn’t exist until I wrote it ten minutes ago. We are going to be publishing those through Tor.com: the first is Over the Woodward Wall. The idea is there are four of those in total, one for each element, to correspond with the alchemical map that you find in Middlegame.  

Your writing is so tight at the sentence level. What kind of edits do you do to get there? 

I finish a book and I send it to what we call the Machete Squad, which is my team of in-house editors, many of whom have been with me since I was writing Buffy the Vampire Slayer fanfiction on LiveJournal. They go through and they pick at anything they don’t like, they pick at plot points, at pacing, at sentence. And then I go back and re-type the entire book with their notes in mind. And then it goes out to my editor to be professionally edited.

The downside of this is that every time you re-type a book, you open the door to re-introducing typos. And there are people who will yell at you very, very much if there is one typo in a book they paid for. I wrote that sentence 19 times! It’s a miracle the whole book is not a typo! 

I learned how to write on a typewriter, not a computer. Most of my early work was done on typewriter. And the only way to iterate drafts was to re-type it. 

Does process differ between projects? Does it matter?

Do what works for you. Process does matter; you need a process. What it is is up to no one but you. But if you can’t sit down, write once upon a time, and go through however many hundred thousand words to get to happily ever after, you’re never going to get anywhere. Finishing is just about the only thing that matters. I know people who write one draft and they’re done. And I know people who do 80 drafts. They’re is no specific benchmark you have to hit. There is no perfect process means your work will be good every time. There is no right way.

I stopped giving my word count several years ago, because I am a very fast writer. I made the choice not to have children, so I can spend my days just writing; there are no kids demanding my time. I have been lucky enough that I am able to be a full time writer. So from a literary standpoint I am the equivalent of an Olympic athlete. I’ve been training all day every day. And I would say my word count is x, and people would say “I’m a failure! I’m never going to be a writer!” That’s not true. If you write a hundred clean words a day, you will have a book at the end of the year. So don’t compare yourself or your process to anyone else or anyone else’s process. 

Overall what was your process for Middlegame? Certain words per day? Outline? 

My outlines are generally very vague. It’s like planning a trip to Disneyland. If you and I were going to Disneyland together, I will tell you we have to go to the Haunted Mansion. And you might say “that’s cool, but if I don’t get to ride Space Mountain I’m going to have a tantrum.” And we’ll set the day around the idea that we’re going to the Haunted Mansion, and we’re going to Space Mountain, and we’re going to stop for lunch somewhere in the middle of the day. What’s between those two parts of the park? We can make that our middle point. We still have like six hours in the park that are going to be determined by where we are, what we feel like doing, and what’s going on. So for me, if you put down the pins, you nail down the big things that have to happen, and everything in the middle you just fill in as you want to go. 

Anything else you want people to know about Middlegame?

I really love Middlegame. I know the concept can turn some people off because it’s so weird. So they say they can’t even figure out what this book is about. But if you’re interested in my work at all, please give Middlegame a shot. A lot of folks agree that it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever done. I’m not just saying that because it’s new, because it’s not my newest book any more. My most recent is actually the Rosemary and Rue tenth anniversary edition that just came out from Daw Books. I’m saying that because I really love this book, and it took me ten years to get good enough to write it.

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Interview

Books

Megan Crouse

Oct 10, 2019

Tor Books

NYCC

NYCC 2019

from Books https://ift.tt/323mfdn

[geekmama]

Face to Face

For the ‘First I Love You’ prompt for May 19th of Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2017

Eurus was safely on her way back to Sherrinford in a high security vehicle; a shaken but uninjured Mycroft was going to be looked after, per his brother’s request to Greg (the use of Lestrade’s proper first name just one more shock to add to the mountain of them, though certainly that was a happier one than most); and John had finally stopped shivering under the blanket they’d given him, now that he and Sherlock were in the warm and comfortable back seat of a government-owned car, headed away from the trainwreck that was Musgrave. 

“God, it’ll be bloody amazing to be home again with Rosie!” John blurted, then instantly remembered and turned quickly to Sherlock. “But you’re homeless! Are you going to stay with us while they fix up 221B?” 

“No. I mean… it’s kind of you to offer, John, but…I’m not sure… ” 

John stared, for a moment confused at his friend’s uncertainty. The light was dim in the back seat of the car, and Sherlock’s expression almost unreadable, but there was something in his tone, and in the way he held himself that brought back to John the one time during this whole ordeal that the man had actually lost it completely. “It’s Molly. You’re going to go see her?” 

Sherlock stared out at the pre-dawn landscape rushing past. He was silent for a bit, and then, when he spoke, his voice wasn’t entirely steady. “I have to explain to her…” His voice trailed off: not quite despair, but pretty close. 

“And get those cameras out of her house,” John reminded him. 

“Yes.” The word was clipped and Sherlock seemed to stiffen, furious on Molly’s behalf. But then the hopelessness set in again. 

Oh, Lord. John said, rather gently, “She’ll forgive you. She loves you, Sherlock. Always has!” 

Sherlock turned to look at him again, his face a pale oval. “She might very well forgive me the phone call -- God knows that’s only the latest instance of abuse I’ve flung at her. But it’s the larger picture I’m concerned about, and that she soon will be. The one where she’s not safe -- and never has been. Because of me.” 

They were both silent for a bit, each considering the truth of those words. 

But finally, John frowned. “She wasn’t one of Moriarty’s targets. He didn’t know.” 

Sherlock shrugged a bit, but nodded, too. “Yes. It’s only since my return to London, I suppose. Her role in my… my death…  was obvious enough to anyone interested in putting two and two together. But the press didn’t run with it, and I became lax. Thought I could… use her again. Invade her space with impunity.” 

“Your favorite bolthole. How long had that been going on?” 

“Well… years. But I rarely stayed. Not until Lazarus. I needed a few days to recover--” 

“Were you hurt?” John, in his anger over that whole business, had never asked, and now felt a sudden twinge of guilt. 

“There were some physical effects, but it was mostly… well. It was difficult, realizing the extent of… what I’d done. To you and… everyone. That I’d actually been…” 

“Loved?” 

“Yes.” He gave a derisive sniff and quoted himself: “The grit on the lens.” 

“The fly in the ointment.” John smiled, but mirthlessly. 

“Exactly,” Sherlock agreed. “I stayed with Molly until I was ready to begin the work of dismantling Moriarty’s organization. And then, when I returned, I picked up where I’d left off. Not immediately, but fairly quickly.”’ His eyes glinted. “She was still engaged, of course.” 

John tried not to laugh. “You bloody scotched that on purpose.” 

Sherlock cocked his head. “I suppose I did. Though I didn’t think of it in quite those terms at the time. But for God’s sake, you saw him, John!. It was doomed before it began.” 

John smiled crookedly at Sherlock’s indignation. He decided to go easy on him, refraining from any mention of dogs in mangers, and only said in wonder, “You’ve loved her for ages, haven’t you? And I was so fixated on Irene Adler that I couldn’t see it at all.” 

“Irene Adler is… more like a puzzle to be solved. A case.” 

“I can see that. A ten, I suppose.” 

“An eight. Maybe a nine. She’s fairly  transparent.” 

“To you, maybe. And what about the texting?” 

“It’s just part of the game. She gets bored, just as I do.” 

“I see. And Molly? That’s not a game.” 

“God no!” Sherlock hesitated, then said, with a frown in his voice, “I don’t know when it started, or even how, really. And if not for my sister, I might never have put a name to it.” 

“Eurus and her vivisection. How did she know Molly would make you say it first?” 

“She can’t have known,” Sherlock said, firmly. “That was just icing on her elaborately constructed cake. The words on that coffin were more than enough.” 

He sounded so grim and stricken at that memory, that John said, “Well, that’s it, then. You can’t unsay it -- though I suppose you could pretend it was a game, explain it away in that context--” 

“No. I can’t lie to her. Not anymore.” 

“No,” John agreed. “I don’t think you can. To her or to yourself. Not after what we’ve all been through in the last twenty-four hours. And not after Mary.” 

Sherlock looked up at him, quickly. 

But John only said, “You chose Molly, just as I chose Mary -- your words, if you’ll recall. And of course, I’ve already told you, that chance doesn’t last forever.” He gave a short laugh. “I thought I was talking about Irene when I said that, but I can see it, now: you chose Molly Hooper. And she chose you, a long time ago -- and with her eyes wide open.” 

Sherlock was staring at him. “I can’t… protect her.” 

“No, you can’t. You do the best you can, within reason, but you’re only human, Sherlock, just like the rest of us. You might fail, but it’s the trying that counts -- and the love that’s behind it. You know bloody well you can’t put life on hold for fear of death.” 

They were silent then, for a time, each of them absorbed in their own thoughts. John suddenly felt overwhelmed with memories, regret, pain, love. Mary smiled at him, loving him in spite of everything, her blue eyes bright with hard won wisdom, and courage. And tears. 

Sherlock finally said, meditatively, “I’ve lived in fear all my life. It was Jim Moriarty who pointed that out.” 

“What?” John frowned, abruptly shaken from his own melancholy. 

“Well, his ghost, or whatever it was. When I was shot and still unconscious. I asked him why he never felt pain.” 

“Good God. And what did he say?” John asked, fascinated. 

“He said you always feel it, but you don’t have to fear it. That it was all good. Pain. Heartbreak. Loss.” Sherlock looked at John again. “Shows you’re alive, at least.” 

John gave a sour little bark of laughter. “That’s the truth.” 

Sherlock slid wearily down the leather seat. Looking up at the ceiling, he said, “I always thought of love as something childish, but now… it seems to be the only reasonable response.” 

“You’re growing up, mate,” John said, not without sympathy. 

He could see that Sherlock was giving a tired smile as he murmured, “Time to put away childish things?” 

John nodded. “Soldiers.” 

Sherlock raised a brow. “It seems an odd label in this particular context.” 

But John shook his head, and there was Mary, smiling at him again. He said softly, “No. For better or worse, it’s the very heart of the matter.”

 ~.~

[nothin2somethin-ff]

Intro

Shyne

I stuck a finger into a cigarette burn hole in the dirty tan couch. I bit down on my glossy bottom lip while trying to mentally control my breathing. My eyes burned as I stared ahead at my supposed family member.  She smiled, and crossed her leg over the other.

“What do you say?”

“I can’t leave her…I’m all she has.”

The woman closed her eyes, and let out a breath. Once she opened her eyes she was smiling again.

“Your mother is very selfish Shyne. She left my brother, and now she’s leaving you too. She left you for the drugs, have you not realized this?”

I shook my head, and glared at this woman angrily.

“She loves me, she just needs help!”

“Honey, you’re so young. It’s not your responsibility to take care of your mother. She’s supposed to be taking care of you. If you live with me, my daughter, and your father I will make sure that you live the teenage life that you’re supposed to be living. No one is trying take you from your mother. I’m just offering a healthier environment.” She looked at me with sympathy. I groaned and rolled my eyes.

People always came around trying to stick their hand out to me.

I wasn’t bothered that people were trying to help. But, I didn’t care for people coming around showing pity towards my living situation. People usually took me as some sort of charity case.

At the end of the day I was surviving, and I would continue to survive with or without help. I didn’t need a damn thing from anybody. I didn’t want anybody feeling like I owed them anything. People like this woman could take their little sympathy and get the fuck out of my face.

“No thank you, show yourself out.” I spat, pushing myself off the couch and leading the way to the front door.

“Your dad really cares for you. He really wants to change things for the better.” She stood up from sitting in the lawn chair. She smoothed out her business attire and headed over to me.

“Yeah, I can really tell by him coming here instead of you.” I laughed bitterly, opening the front door.

“If you change your mind call me. I’ll leave my business card behind. It has my cellphone number and work number on it.”

“Don’t wait on it…” I spoke truthfully, nines time out of ten I wouldn’t be contacting her.

“I promise you would love it. Even if it’s not permanent. You could stay with us over the summer to see if you would like to stay with us. Just think about it, please.”

Once she was on the other side of the door. I shrugged, waved goodbye and closed the door in her face.

I couldn’t see myself staying with someone like her ever in my life. It seemed like the woman couldn’t breathe with how uptight she was. I would be walking on eggshells around a family like that.

*

“Girl, you’re telling me Clara Huxtable came to the crib talking about adopting your poor ass and you said no?” I rolled my eyes because she could never take anything serious.

Rayna and I walked into the cafeteria. Everyone’s eyes were on us per usual. We were the ‘it’ pair of the school. Girls usually wished they could be us, and boys wished they could be with us.

I might be considered broke at home, but my boyfriend made sure I walked around looking finer than wine.

“I’m not poor, Ray.”

“The money you’re getting from that little corner boy that you’re fucking is nothing compared to what that family can provide.”

She was right but I wouldn’t admit that to my girl.

“Kenny is not a corner boy. You know his brother owns the streets and he be stacking Kenny with some.” I defended my man, like I always did.

Rayna broke out laughing after grabbing her tray of food. I mugged her before grabbing my own tray. She was still laughing while leading the way to the table.

“I knew you were funny, but I didn’t take you as a comedian.” She plopped down in her seat and immediately picked up her slice of pizza.

“What’s fucking funny?” I grilled her.

“Shy, I live and breathe these streets! Your nigga is out there selling daily. Whatever words that nigga is feeding to you don’t even consume it. That nigga has been lying to you, baby girl.”

I sat next to Ray, watching her devour her pizza.  

“Whatever Rayna…” I pouted, spooning up some applesauce.

“You need to go check on what your pops is talking about. This could be something major, Shyne. We’ve been talking about getting outta the hood and this is your chance!” She spoke excitedly.

“You’re not gonna miss me? I can���t be leaving the ghetto without my girl…”

She kissed her teeth, and waved me away.

“You know you’re my best friend, and I don’t fuck with nobody else around here. I promise I’ll find a way to visit your ass every damn week. If someone popped up with a chance like this for me I would be chucking up the deuces. Leaving ya’ll to sweep up my dust.” I shoved her, while we both laughed. “Really Shy give it a try.”

*

I walked home from school with a lot on my mind. I didn’t think moving with my father would be the best. My living situation could be better, but this neighborhood was my home. I was raised here, and I always thought I would end up dying here. Some of the older women in neighborhood helped me out when I was in need. Since my mother wasn’t fully capable of taking care of me like a mother should. I had grown up with people out here, people that I borderline considered family. The love of my life and best friend were here, how could I leave a place so close to my heart?

I shook my head, watching as I dragged my feet on the cracked and filthy sidewalk.

“Aye yo, Shy!” I snapped my head up, and looked over at where the voice was coming from. I smiled wide when I noticed it was Kenny’s older brother. I jogged across the street over to him. Keith was chilling on the front steps of an apartment building where all the fiends flocked. He turned his hat around so that I could see blemish free brown face.  He smirked at me with a toothpick tilting down on his bottom lip. “What’s good with you, shorty? Where you going?”

“I was heading home. I have so much homework to do…” I sighed, sitting next to him on the steps. He nodded, glancing up the steps after hearing Ms. Carter step out of her apartment.

“You still fucking around with my brother? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Yeah, I’m just trying to finish off my junior year strong. I’ve been focused on all my school work.” He rubbed his hands, and stared at me approvingly.

“You different from everybody else, Shy. You not meant to be out here with us thuggin ass niggas and these dropping drawers whores.” I laughed loudly, Keith has always been a jokester. “I’m so serious, shorty. You need to get up out of here as fast as you can. Enroll into one of these little colleges, get you a nice paying job. You so damn smart, you could do anything you want.”

I combed through my hair with my fingers as I really thought about what Keith was saying. It was like he had read my thoughts. Even though I wanted to stay, he was right. I couldn’t just stay here when there’s so much out there for me. Before my mom turned in to a fucking crackhead she would always tell me that I needed to start stepping out of my comfort zone.  

I looked ahead as I watched the sunset.

“Someone came to my apartment earlier, on some fresh prince type shit. She was talking about taking me out of the hood to live with my uppity side of the family.” Keith chuckled.

Before Keith could respond, this scrawny ass nigga stepped ingin front of the both of us scratching his ashy neck. He looked around the block before licking his chapped lips.

“What’s up Ke-Keith, le-let me get some of that white girl.” He stuttered.

Keith shook his head, pulling out some cocaine from his pocket. He traded the nigga the cocaine for some bills. The scrawny dude smiled like the damn Kool-Aid man before he took off down the street.

Keith looked back over at me, while pointing to where the dude just ran off.

“That’s a reason why you need to go ahead and take your kinfolk up on that offer. Fuck all this lame shit out here, you deserve more than this.”

“What about Kenny?” Keith frowned.

“Man Shy, you need to stop fucking with that nigga. He not treating you right.” I furrowed my eyebrows. Kenny was treating me better than anyone else has ever treated me. I didn’t know what Keith was talking about. I was tired of people thinking they knew my relationship with Kenny more than I did.

“Ain’t nothing wrong with the way he treating me…” I said defensively.

Keith shook his head, and chuckled. He pulled the blunt behind his ear before lighting it.

“Kenny my brother, Shy. I live with that nigga. He’s a pathological liar. You can’t be believing every word that nigga be feeding you.” I sucked my teeth at the fact that this was the same shit Rayna was saying.

I didn’t really want to be talking about my relationship anymore. I stood up, pulling the straps of my backpack further up my shoulders.

“I’ll catch you later, Keith.” I glanced back at Keith before I took a couple steps towards my apartment

“I’m just tryna look out for you shorty. He’s not who you think he is.” Keith shouted after me.

I walked into my apartment, dropping my bookbag next to the door. I skimmed through all the mail, most of it being bills. I huffed, dropping them on the living room coffee table. I didn’t know who was paying those damn bills because I was tired of asking Kenny for some money to pay them.

“Mom!” I shouted, walking into the kitchen to prepare dinner for myself.

I looked in the fridge with utter shock. The fridge was completely empty. I swung the freezer door open coming up empty again. I started to panic, searching through all the cabinets. Nothing.

“This bitch really got me fucked up!” I was heated, storming out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs. I jumped up two-steps at a time with steam shooting out of my ears. “Where the fuck are you?!”

I shoved her bedroom door open. I growled at seeing her cuddled up with some young ass nigga that I’ve seen around selling to the fiends.  I walked up to her pushing her body back and forth.

“Ma, you ate my got damn food! Kenny bought me that shit for the week!” I cried angrily.

She shot up in a panic, looking around the room confused. She stared up at me with sad eyes. She knew exactly what the fuck she had just done. What was I going to eat for the week?

“I’m sorry baby, we were hungry and other people came too.”

I looked up at the ceiling trying to calm myself down so I didn’t kill this woman.

“You know what? Fuck you, this nigga, Kenny, and this fucking neighborhood! I’m staying with dad!” I spat harshly. She was so scared that she couldn’t even respond. I walked out of her room disappointed in what she had become.

I jogged downstairs, and grabbed the business card the lady had dropped off earlier.

“Hello, this is Laura Davis, how can I assist you?” I rolled my eyes at the formalities.

“Hey Laura, it’s Shyne…” I sighed.

“Oh! Hello honey, I didn’t think you would call this soon.”

I didn’t either.

“Well I thought it over, I would like to give it a try.”

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

waxifraski asked:

Hello, Butterfly! Excuse me if you have already treated this: Do you think that characters such as Cersei or Littlefinger are caricaturized? I mean, I get that the point of horrible-psycho people like the Boltons, Euron, Joffrey or Gregor is being utterly horrible and sadistic, but given the screen-time Littlefinger and Cersei have, it’s puzzle how they never get as “compelling” or remotely understandable as other “villain” characters as Varys or Jaime. Probably it’s just a rant of mine, I didn’t appreciate text nuances and it doesn’t matter, but I can’t recall any moment of Petyr or Cersei doing any minuscule good thing for anybody, not even petting Tommen’s little cats, and would like your opinion on the matter. Excuse me if I didn’t manage to express myself clearly, I’m not a native English-speaker, thank you very much in advance!

No worries about your English, you’re perfectly understandable. But part of your problem is that Varys and Jaime are not villains per se – they’re a complex mix of anti-hero/anti-villain characteristics, very shades of grey, and as such audience sympathy can be built for them by the more kind deeds they do and/or by the pain they suffer. (The trouble lies in that over time the more villainous acts are forgotten by the sympathetic audience, such as Jaime and Bran, or Varys and the tongues he takes from his little birds. I think Varys’s villain characteristics are going to hit a major upswing soon, mind you.)

As for the more “pure” villains such as Littlefinger and Cersei, I don’t think they’re  caricatures, not at all, and I think they’re entirely understandable. Littlefinger is far more than a mustache-twirling Dick Dastardly-type cackling villain. Cersei is much more than a seductive bitch queen. But GRRM didn’t need to write them helping little old ladies cross the street or petting puppies to give them depth and a bit of audience sympathy (or empathy). Instead, he gave them complex backstory and characterization.

They met in the lower bailey of Riverrun. When Brandon saw that Petyr wore only helm and breastplate and mail, he took off most of his armor. Petyr had begged her for a favor he might wear, but she had turned him away. Her lord father promised her to Brandon Stark, and so it was to him that she gave her token, a pale blue handscarf she had embroidered with the leaping trout of Riverrun. As she pressed it into his hand, she pleaded with him. “He is only a foolish boy, but I have loved him like a brother. It would grieve me to see him die.” And her betrothed looked at her with the cool grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare the boy who loved her. That fight was over almost as soon as it began. Brandon was a man grown, and he drove Littlefinger all the way across the bailey and down the water stair, raining steel on him with every step, until the boy was staggering and bleeding from a dozen wounds. “Yield!” he called, more than once, but Petyr would only shake his head and fight on, grimly. When the river was lapping at their ankles, Brandon finally ended it, with a brutal backhand cut that bit through Petyr’s rings and leather into the soft flesh below the ribs, so deep that Catelyn was certain that the wound was mortal. He looked at her as he fell and murmured “Cat” as the bright blood came flowing out between his mailed fingers.

When she was just a little girl, her father had promised her that she would marry Rhaegar. She could not have been more than six or seven. “Never speak of it, child,” he had told her, smiling his secret smile that only Cersei ever saw. “Not until His Grace agrees to the betrothal. It must remain our secret for now.” And so it had, though once she had drawn a picture of herself flying behind Rhaegar on a dragon, her arms wrapped tight about his chest. When Jaime had discovered it she told him it was Queen Alysanne and King Jaehaerys. She was ten when she finally saw her prince in the flesh, at the tourney her lord father had thrown to welcome King Aerys to the west. […] By night the prince played his silver harp and made her weep. When she had been presented to him, Cersei had almost drowned in the depths of his sad purple eyes. He has been wounded, she recalled thinking, but I will mend his hurt when we are wed. Next to Rhaegar, even her beautiful Jaime had seemed no more than a callow boy. The prince is going to be my husband, she had thought, giddy with excitement, and when the old king dies I’ll be the queen. […] If she had only married Rhaegar as the gods intended, he would never have looked twice at the wolf girl. Rhaegar would be our king today and I would be his queen, the mother of his sons.

And those are just two heartbreaking examples, there’s definitely more for both characters. (Like, I can’t imagine reading the transcendental, stunningly emotional ADWD Cersei II and come away thinking she’s a only caricatured villain.) Now, maybe they didn’t affect you, maybe they didn’t affect many readers – Cersei’s sympathetic moments often come during some of her worst actions, so the balance is difficult, and I know I personally lost any sympathy I had for Littlefinger after Jeyne Poole – but they do exist, and they’re there for a reason.

And it’s the same for some other villains. Even, say, Lysa, who may come off as a caricature of a hysteric obsessive overbearing mother-villain (especially in the first book), truly had an incredibly sad and tragic life, a depth of pain where it hurts to even touch the surface. Joffrey as well: the moment where he sees Robert abuse Cersei, the story Stannis relates after his death about how Robert once hit him so hard Stannis thought he’d killed him (for, granted, a terrible act, but that’s still child abuse ffs). Tywin, also, barely does anything “good” ever, but gosh how could anyone think he wasn’t complex or compelling?

But it’s true, there are villains where GRRM doesn’t even try to give them much in the way of depth, and no sympathy at all, and just piles on their atrocities. Gregor, Vargo Hoat, Ramsay, Euron… but I still wouldn’t call them caricatures? They’re not just evil for the sake of evil, not mindless orcs, they have motivations (dull and brutish and antisocial as Gregor’s may be) and even complexity of a sort. No sympathetic actions at all, but they’re not meant to have them:

GRRM said that for any character who is a POV character he has to find something that he and readers can sympathize with even if the character in question does reprehensible things. He said there is always something he can find, or if not then it just won’t be a POV character. Gregor Clegane, for example, could never be a POV character, but Jaime Lannister can be despite his bad actions, because there’s more to Jaime than that. GRRM mentioned that Cersei will be a major POV character in A Feast for Crows. I was outraged by this and commented “You just won’t ever leave us any character we can purely hate, will you?” GRRM smiled at that, and that’s when he gave the counter-example of Gregor Clegane.

Mind you, this POV thing of GRRM’s makes me wonder a bit about Victarion Greyjoy, who IMO is the most villain-caricature of all the POV characters. Like, even the moment where I think GRRM might have trying to build sympathy – his memories of the time he “had to kill” his wife for her adultery – fails for me because he was fucking beating his enslaved wife to death after she was raped. Victarion’s laughably stupid (GRRM’s even said he’s “dumb as a stump”), his “kindness” in freeing slaves is just so that he can sacrifice them or give them as salt wives to his men, and honestly the only way I could get through his chapters is to treat them as a dark comedy and pray that his “glory” comes soon. Is it Victarion’s utter cluelessness and obliviousness to his fate that we’re supposed to sympathize with? Or is it his ~AWESOME BATTLE SKILLZ~ that I do see people (men) claiming they enjoy? Maybe the fact that he’s a caricature is the point? Damn if I know, oh well.

Anyway, a villain doesn’t need to be a medium-grey anti-hero to be understandable and compelling. They can be almost entirely dark with perhaps only a spark of goodness from their childhood now buried, or maybe they have no apparent goodness within them at all and never have – but that doesn’t make them caricatures, it just makes them villains. Hope this helps you understand!

[birlcholtz]

sin bin schematics

for @queercamilla | ao3 | part of the zimbits airport au | 1.3k

“Mashkov,” Lardo says, extending her hand in greeting.

“Duan,” Tater replies, shaking it. “I like your sunglasses.”

“Thanks. They’re mandatory for members of the Samwell High Court during trials. Ransom and Holster have them too. So do Dex and Chowder. I have a pair for you too.” The sunglasses she hands to Tater are fairly simple, exactly the same as hers, and they were only like two bucks. (And got paid for with Sin Bin money.)

“You have trials?” Tater asks, putting on his new sunglasses.

“Only for multiple offenses over a short period of time. We used to have more of them when we didn’t have the Portable Sin Bin, since we couldn’t bring the usual one with us on roadies and had to tally up all the fines for when we got back. Now we only need to hold trials when all the Sin Bins are full and nobody can find a Ziploc bag to use. Or when we just ran out of Ziploc bags. Like now.”

“We probably could find, but I want to try the trial.”

“You don't have those in the NHL?”

“No. Always bring Sin Bin with us on roadies, no point.”

“Isn't it really bulky, though?”

“I carry, is no problem.”

“Yeah, I've never carried our Sin Bin beyond the bare minimum.”

“Make team carry it for you?”

“Yeah.”

“Makes sense. You fine teammates how much for taking last slice of pizza without asking?”

“Oh, pizza was never much of an issue for us, but we would fine the shit out of people for doing that with pie.”

“Bitty’s pie?”

“Yeah, there were a few brawls over the last pieces. There still are, particularly whenever Bitty makes blueberry pie. Dex and Holster always fight over it.”

“How much do you fine for pie fighting?”

“Five bucks per person. Eight if it's blueberry.”

Tater laughs. “This is not big fine for Falconers.”

“Well, yeah, you all get your NHL salaries, while we were all broke college students when we set the amounts of the fines. Besides, the number of times that people fight over pie is actually ridiculous. Dex got fined almost a hundred dollars one semester just for pie, but Nursey offered to pay pie fines for him in the future, which I think was why Dex started limiting the amount of times he got into pie fights.”

“So Nursey does not have to pay much?”

“No, Dex refused, I think it was so Nursey wouldn’t offer again.”

“Ah. I... think I understand?”

“Their dynamic is confusing.”

“Yes.”

“Um, excuse me,” Chowder says. He’s wearing his High Court Sunglasses as well, as is Dex. Ransom and Holster aren’t, but they’re not on High Court duty tonight. “Aren’t we supposed to be having a trial right now?”

“Right, right,” Lardo says. She sets down her champagne flute, the better to seem menacing. “So, let’s see. How many fines did we tally up before the ball dropped in Times Square?”

“Fifty-seven,” Dex says.

“How many after?”

“Fourteen,” Tater says.

“How many of these due to Jack Zimmermann and Eric Bittle?”

“Not all of them!” Bitty says.

“True. Dex, please read off the list of charges.”

“We have adjusted fines for whether you are on Falconers or Samwell team,” Tater adds. “No eighty-dollar fines for college students.”

Dex starts going down the bullet-pointed list, which they had been contributing to in a Google doc and only printed out for the purpose of the trial. “By the way, these aren’t in order of when they happened, since we all just added them to the document wherever we could. Here goes. Snowy, staring at phone and texting with mushy smile on face for over an hour, thirty dollars. Chowder and Farmer, kissing one second before midnight instead of exactly at midnight, five dollars each. Holster, singing Auld Lang Syne obnoxiously loudly, ten dollars. Nursey, singing Auld Lang Syne obnoxiously off-key, fifteen dollars. Dex, staring at— hold it, what?”

Chowder takes the paper. “I wrote this one down,” he says by way of explanation. “Dex, staring at Nursey singing Auld Lang Syne with an obnoxiously fond expression on his face, as opposed to the wincing that would be expected from Nursey’s singing, five dollars.” Then he hands the paper back to Dex, who rolls his eyes at Chowder before taking it and continuing. Nursey doesn’t react to the maligning of his singing voice.

“Farmer, use of a pet name for significant other in public, two dollars. Marty, letting the champagne roll around so it overflows when the bottle is opened, ten dollars. Marty, opening a bottle of champagne so that the cork hits the ceiling— which was ‘swawesome, by the way, which is why the fine is lower than usual— five dollars. Ransom and Holster, calling each other ‘bro’ for more than five sentences in a row, ten dollars each. Lardo, dropping the forks for the pie, two dollars. Tater, not drying off shoes on the welcome mat, ten dollars... And the rest are all because of Jack and Bitty.”

“That would be fifty-eight fines because of Jack and Bitty,” Lardo adds helpfully. “Even allowing for the fact that both of you get individual fines for one collaborative offense, that’s at least twenty-nine fineable offenses. How do you even do that?”

“We are getting lots of money from tonight,” Tater says. “For both Falconers and Samwell.”

“And that’s not even counting Jack and Bitty’s fines,” Lardo agrees.

“Jack and Bitty are being fined for sixteen counts of pet names, eight counts of being overly mushy where other people can hear them, four counts of PDA, and one count of disappearing for an unexplained twenty minutes while everyone else watched TV,” Dex reels off.

“Impressive,” Holster says admiringly. “When did you manage that?”

“I didn’t notice that,” Lardo says at the same time that Tater says, “When Anderson Cooper was wrapped in the shiny foil.”

“Do any of you have anything to say in your own defense?” Chowder asks the room at large. “That goes for all of us, by the way, not just Jack and Bitty. Personally, I don’t have anything to say in my own defense, but if anyone wants to argue that they’ve been unfairly fined, go for it. The floor is yours.”

There’s silence. People have tried to evade fines before, but that was before Chowder became part of the High Court of Samwell. Whatever sympathy he might have had for people getting fined excessively vanished once he became the one paying most of those excessive fines, so even if someone tries to argue with Chowder about their fine, he’ll shut them down before they can say ‘unfair.’ It’s very helpful when Lardo has to collect fines, so she always makes sure Chowder is on duty when there are trials.

“Well? What are you all waiting for? Pay up.” She starts everything off by putting her own two dollars into one of the two bowls that Bitty located in lieu of a Ziploc bag, the one labeled SAMWELL AND ALUMS. (The other one says FALCONERS AND RETIREES.) Lardo has no idea what the money in the Samwell bowl is going to, but she’s sure Dex will find a good use for it.

While everyone else lines up to pay their respective fines, and Dex corners Jack and Bitty to tell them exactly how much they each have to pay for their fines, Lardo and Tater refill their flutes of champagne and snag the best seats on the couch.

“When we were still at Samwell, the rest of the team used to say I was the head of the Samwell Mafia,” she says to Tater.

“I believe that,” he replies. “Falconers do not have a mafia, just me and whoever sees something that should be fined. We should work together. Keep an eye on each other’s teams for fines.”

“We’ll need some more Sin Bins.”

“Is no problem.”

[fableweaver]

Arc of the Deadman Reaper

The Court of Miracles, more like the Court of Bad Taste and Too Much Food, Seth thought to himself. The palace of the High King Arian II Drasir, was lavish in wealth and fortune, while outside its walls the people scrapped out his offal and ate it. Court was held in the main hall, a wide round chamber with columns making two parts to the chamber. The outer circle was a walkway, the walls lined with stained glass windows, lover’s alcoves, and tapestries depicting wars and legends.

The inner circle had three tables made in curves so they formed a circle with spaces between them. The king’s table stood over the other two on a raised dais, the king sitting in the center on his lavish throne. The center was reserved for dancing or performers, or any other type of entertainment. The dome ceiling showered down light with artificial mage lights, very expensive items outside of Dridia. Today’s lights were set to look like an indigo sky with three moons, something too fantastic for reality.

Seth found the pomp of court tiring, but a wicked dance went on under the surface. The royal family itself was enough to earn him bread and butter, though today sadly his services were paid for by a lower lord.  

This was the Court of Miracles, a mix of total boredom and anarchy; contests of wills, and hidden assassins. That was his role actually, a man dressed in black sneaking in the shadows with a dagger to the back. Actually most skilled assassins didn’t use such ploys, over dramatized bullshit that only a weeping shit bard would think of. Most assassins dressed like everyone else, at least the good ones.

Seth stood with other servants in the outer ring, watching for his subtitle opportunity. Keyed onto the slight movements and dance of servants and nobles alike, he could almost see wires on them as if they were puppets pulled about by the king. Seth didn’t believe any of the bullshit clap of the clerics about gods, everyman died and none of it had to do with divine intervention.

He glanced up at the raised dais, marveling at the pure arrogance of the bastard that sat on the throne. High King Arian Drasir II sat on his throne like a statue and just as unmovable. His age was staring to show in the crow’s feet around his gray eyes, yet his gaze was like ice. His blonde hair was streaked with silver, tied back in a tight queue. His head didn’t even bow under the massive crown he wore, nor did his shoulders slump under the weight of the heavy ermine cloak.

At his feet rested a trained bear that he had captured out on a hunt. It wore an iron collar but any of the servants that had to serve the king had to be cautious as they approached him. The large black bear was called Bartholomew, but called Black Bart by the servants. Seth was glad he never had to approach the king.  

It had become a fashion of the new Regarian court to enhance one’s self with mage sigils. Arian had opted for strength, grace, and speed rather than beauty sigils or sensory sigils. Seth himself had bought a few enhancing sigils, two of grace, one of strength, one of stamina, and one of speed. Each cost a whole gold crown per sigil, mages were always overcharging for their skills.  

Seth saw his chance, an empty goblet of his dead man. That’s what he, and some of the better assassins, called their marks. They were dead men the minute they were marked by the right person with enough gold. Seth knew that was what they were; even if he chose not to kill them, there was still their enemy wanting them dead.

He took the wine jug, his chosen poison hidden in his sleeve. Walking out with a patient stride and even steps he walked to the Lord Hubert’s side.

“More wine milord?” he asked mildly. The fat lord looked up at him, his face already flushed with drink.

“No, I’ve had enough,” the lord muttered absently, turning back to the conversation of two other lords. Seth merely nodded, turning ever so slightly away, one hand passing by the lord’s ear. A fine needle slipped from the hidden sheath, pricking Hubert’s neck, and withdrawing without the lord noticing.

Seth walked calmly away, the bee venom would take a little while to act and by that point he would be well away. Xinian wasps were not always deadly, but a sting on the neck would be enough to cut off the air supply and the victim would suffocate to death. He returned to his post, seeming unconcerned about the people around him.

When the lord Hubert started to swell, he looked to think nothing of it. It was nearly an hour until he started to wheeze as the swelling got worse. Soon there were servants helping him up, trying to get him out of the hall as he gasped for breath. Hardly anyone noticed as he was carried away, hardly anyone cared.

He left an hour after the lord was carried away, not wanting to gain attention. He went into a closet in the servant halls to change his palace livery, a waistcoat and crisp white shirt, not wanting his hire to see this disguise. As an Elmerian he had noticed many Regarians couldn’t even tell them apart. He took advantage of this with his disguises, sometimes it paid to be the poor servants.

Other races, especially Regarian, tended to call Elmerians ugly. It was true, distorted features seemed common for the race, though some were lucky to be called plain. Seth himself was rather plain, nothing striking about his features. He had dull brown hair, an average nose, and no disfigurations despite his work. Elmerians were darker than the Regarians or Markians, but not as dark as any Xinian or Hyrian. Usually they were tanned from the sun, working in the fields all day as farmers.

Seth changed into a black tunic and trews, assuming the stereotypical assassin role. He left the closet, easily avoiding notice by going through the lesser servant passages through the palace. The Palace of Cair Leone was new, built just after the King’s Wars and the destruction of the Aldan Palace of Versae. The palace was mostly wood with stone floors with thick carpets, wall hangings, and glass windows. It was literally a palace of luxury, Seth tired of rolling his eyes at the ridiculous opulence.

He headed to the west wing; the palace was larger than many villages of the kingdom. He stopped at one servant’s entrance and knocked three times. The door opened and he slipped in. The servant on the other side bowed to him and led him into the sitting room. These apartments were owned by his latest employer, the Lord Varas Lonelove, Duke of Lornanor in Dridia. He had already bought Seth’s services twice, for a mage he paid well.

His rooms were lavish, Lirian silk and Regarian silver decorating most of the room. Lord Varas himself lounged in a couch by a table, playing War, a complex checker game popular in Lir, against himself. Arrogant bastard is what Seth called him in his head; one never insulted a mage aloud though.

No one knew how old Varas actually was, mages hardly aged. He bore only a few lines around his mouth and eyes, otherwise he seemed ageless. He had the typical coloring of a mage, bleached white hair and skin, and burning red eyes. Varas wore his hair long and loose, in a thin silken drape down his back. He wore the typical mage robes, fine Lirian silk dripping silver coins along the hems. He wore several pieces of silver jewelry, none bearing any stones or gold.

“Well is that miserable toad dead?”

“You’d see that if you’d been at dinner tonight,” Seth answered dryly.

“My bones ache,” Varas answered. He was older than he looked, the mages living long lives like the Aldan. Seth knew very well that his bones did not ache, but Varas often claimed infirmity for sympathy. Seth didn’t know how many enhancing sigils he wore; they were hidden under his robes.

“Well the Lord Hubert is dead as requested,” Seth said.

“How?”

“Suffocation, bee sting,” Seth answered.

“Odd but cannot be traced, your special touch,” Varas said with a grin. He dropped a string of coins, ten silver royals. Seth pocketed the coins, and waited knowing that Varas would have another job. “So what do you know about Jeanne Lonna?” Varas asked idly and Seth shivered at the idea of his mark being a princess of one of the great houses.

“Daughter of the King of the Mark,” Seth answered, hoping she was not his next mark.

“And soon to be High Queen of the Nine Kingdoms,” Varas said. Seth didn’t bother to ask how he knew this; he most likely heard it from Ileana Myrddin the princess of Dridia and lover to the High King.

“Is she my next mark?” Seth asked instead.

“No of course not,” Varas answered. “She is Anton’s.”

Seth nearly laughed, but kept his face straight. Anton Myrddin, Ileana’s son and the bastard of the king. Of course Varas planned on stealing Elrik’s bride right from under him. The mages have been trying to get a mage on the throne since the King’s Wars, even if it was only as a wife. Stealing the promised wife may not earn the throne but it may just make Prince Elrik lose face.

“You know I don’t like the information game,” Seth answered. “I’m a blood man.”

“Yes, yes,” Varas said sounding bored. “I’ll pay you the same amount for good intel.”

“On what a girl likes so a man can sleep with her?” Seth asked crossly. “Boring. I’m not your man for this, and Anton hardly needs help.”

Anton was famous for seducing ladies, though never those of his age. He always went after older married women, and the rumors of court were that his mother was one of those. Seth didn’t know or care if it was true or not, he just hated getting so involved with his clients, or his marks. All he needed or wanted was a name, beyond that he didn’t want to know more.

“Very well then recommend someone,” Varas said. “A romantic.”

Seth nearly growled because he knew someone who could help. He hated the guy, but he was the best seducer in Cair Leone.

“No names,” he answered. “I’ll send him to you.”

“Your discretion is important you understand,” Varas said coolly.

“Anyone you send after me I’ll send back to you in little pieces,” Seth answered casually. “You know that.”

“Make sure your man knows what he’s about,” Varas answered.

“He’s as good as me,” Seth answered and he left. He walked through servant passages again, heading out of the palace. He passed easily through the gardens, taking a twisted path lest anyone see him. As he walked through the gardens he heard a woman laughing. He saw lights and passed into an open space in the garden.

Seth sighed when he saw it was Anton with three women. Anton was a mix of two breeds, his ice blonde hair was streaked with white, his skin as pale as milk, and his limbs long but healthy. His eyes were the most striking, blue shot through with lines of red. He had only sigils for beauty, five which made him all the more dazzling. His glamor made him irresistible to those who didn’t have the will power to look past his looks; and he reveled in the attention it gained him.

They were all lying on a blanket piled with cushions and pillows, like an obscene picnic. They were going at it like rabbits, naked limbs all mixed together. He could linger and watch but it wasn’t in Seth’s taste to just sit and watch an orgy. Just as he was about out of ear shot he heard someone shout. He turned back to see Elrik emerge from the garden.

“Well bastard it seems I find you here in depravity,” Elrik said arrogantly. Only a few month’s Anton’s senior he was the picture of a Regarian lord. Tall, blonde, and blue eyed he stood like his cock was too big. He like his father had only taken strength and stamina sigils, leaving beauty for the women.

“What do you want prick?” Anton asked from under the breasts of one woman.

“Naught from you,” Elrik answered. “You’ve my masseuse there sucking your dick. I’ve a headache and I need her.”

Seth felt sorry for the Elmerian who was probably forced into this, some petty ploy of Anton’s against his half-brother. The woman hurried to leave Anton, her head down. Seth crossed his arms, but he still winced when she came in striking distance of Elrik. He brought his walking cane down on her shoulders. She whimpered as he beat her, his face set in an ugly grin.  

“Easy there,” Anton said as he sat up and pulled one of the women onto his lap. “I asked her to join me.”

“She is my servant,” Elrik answered. “I have every right to beat her.”

“Beast,” Anton muttered. “Go beat her somewhere else then, I don’t like blood.”

“Wimp,” Elrik muttered as he grabbed the woman by the hair and dragged her away. Seth slipped away as Anton returned to his recreation, not needing to see more. He had seen things much like that throughout the palace, many of the servants had.

Of course the King did nothing about either of his sons; he was too busy running the Nine Kingdoms. King Arian ruled with a gold fist as many said his taxes heavier than the crown. He was still a better king than Elrik would be; Elrik was little more than a bully.

Seth left the gardens by scaling a wall simply to avoid the palace guards who liked to push around servants. He landed out in the empty yard around the wall, and hurried to cover. Around the palace was the wealthy homes of the Regarians, these just the estates they owned in the city. It was easy to stick to the night shadows here, wandering paths through many of the gardens and estates.

There was a second wall around the inner city, mainly to keep lesser out of the wealthy part of the city. It was even easier to scale this wall, and even drop down onto a roof. Here the buildings were even tighter, but still nice. This was the East District, home to the merchants. The west was home to the craftsmen, taking up the second half of the middle city.

Here Seth could run across well shingled roofs, the buildings white washed plaster with wooden support beams showing. The cobbled streets were clear of refuse but narrower than those in the upper city. They were also better lit with street lights, since the streets here were narrower and easier to light.

Only a few people were still out so late, it wasn’t until Seth reached Hawker’s Run that he saw more people. Hawker’s Run was the street running between the inner city wall and the outer city. Here it was busy with thieves and counterfeiters, their business day just starting. Hawker’s Run lead into the Jackdaw’s Market, the home of a lot of the black market’s dealings. The market moved along Hawker’s Run, which ran around the inner city, never in the same place for long. He leapt down from a roof and blended in with the crowd, heading for the outer city.

The outer city was divided into five districts: Whore’s Ward, Hangman’s Quarter, Odd Terminal, Rogue Town, and Poor Man’s Paradise. To get to the Whore’s Ward by Hawker’s Run Seth had to pass through Odd Terminal. It was actually the biggest of the five districts, home to the warehouses and day laborers of the city. Drunk men wandered the streets here, going from tavern to tavern, while others went sober about their business of hauling or loading wagons.

Seth walked quickly keeping to the middle of the street here. The shadows were dangerous in places like these, even for him. The change between the districts were vague, soon he was passing more taverns and bars rather than warehouses and stock yards. The lights changed from simple gas lit street lamps to colorful lanterns. Women lounged about on balconies and stoops, half naked or even in the act itself.

He stopped at the Golden Horn, one of the few pleasure houses that hosted to the wealthy. He entered through the open entrance, the opulent hall leading to two places, the gambling pub and the bar. Both were full of men and smoke.

“May I assist you milord?” A hostess asked. She was Lirian, olive skin, small build, black hair, and yellow eyes.

“I’m looking for Renning,” Seth answered. “I’ve a hire for him.”

“This way milord,” she answered smoothly and led him up the stairs. She led him into a parlor and went off into the other room. Seth heard moaning and rolled his eyes, wondering how many times he was going to interrupt someone else’s pleasure. He didn’t wait long until Renning came out in a Lirian silk robe, looking quite peeked.

“Well, Donal didn’t expect to see you here,” he said crossly.

“I’ve a hire for you,” Seth answered as he sat casually on the sofa, putting his feet up on the low table. “I’m not an information man, you are.”

“With who?” Renning asked sounding less annoyed. He was Lirian as well, his narrow eyes earning him the moniker the Fox.

“Dridian by the name of Vares Lonelove,” Seth answered.

“Dridian? Too dangerous,” Renning said. “I don’t deal with the mages.”

“You’re choice,” Seth said as he shrugged. “Not my fault you don’t have the balls for it.”

Renning kicked his legs off the table before he sat down himself by the fire.

“Arrogant bastard, you should watch your tongue.”

“And yours was just in a whore’s cunt telling by your breath,” Seth answered as he waved his hand in front of his face. “You should wash them not lick them clean.”

Lirians could move fast, but Seth moved faster than Renning’s dagger, leaping to his feet as the dagger landed in the couch’s cushion. Seth had a dagger out and at Renning’s groin as easily as blinking.

“Fast as always,” Renning muttered. “Fine you have my attention.”

“Lonelove wants info on Jeanne Lonna,” Seth answered. “Don’t know why, but he said he wants someone to seduce her. If you want more details go see him yourself.”

Seth sheathed his dagger and Renning stood.

“He pays well?” Renning asked.

“I’ve had no complaints, and I’ve done three jobs for him,” Seth answered, three jobs for one employer without problems were rare and spoke well for the man. Renning lifted an eyebrow impressed and nodded.

“Thanks for the tip,” he said and Seth knew he was hooked. “Can I interest you in anything else?”

“That hostess,” Seth answered shortly, the sounds and the smells of the house too tempting now. Renning owned at least half the houses in the Ward, and he made sure all his girls were clean.

“Meet her down the hall in the fifth room down,” Renning answered. A little steal drawn between them wasn’t uncommon, it actually happened quite a few times in their professions.

Seth left for the room, glad to find a decanter of Aldan wine in the room. He poured himself a drink and by the time he finished it the hostess arrived. She was dressed in a revealing Lirian robe, her shapely legs the best part of her.

“I am glad you chose me milord,” she said as she joined him on the couch. Seth immediately slipped his hand between her legs, searching for hidden weapons. She didn’t even flinch, but instead made an enticing little gasp.

“Clean at least there,” Seth said in her ear.

“You reapers love searching for weapons don’t you,” she answered, her voice husky with pleasure. He actually laughed at that before he began searching for more.

It was a pleasurable few hours, but he left well satisfied and she was sure to be glad for the two royals he left her. It was past the haunting hour when he left, yet there were still plenty of people roaming the streets. He headed for Rogue Town where his home lay. A jumble of buildings that made a maze of danger housed the thieves, assassins, cutthroats, and thugs of the city. Many were the poor laborers of the city as well, not all were criminals of course. It wasn’t a good place to be at night, but Seth was known well enough in these parts to be left alone. Here the buildings were drab and run down, every other house was empty. Dogs wandered the street, cats wandering the roofs.

His house was hidden in a loft of a S.R.O hotel. The only way to get to it was by scaling the building next door and jumping over the roofs. While hard to get to it was well built and furnished, he liked to keep his home neat. Once inside he was greeted immediately by his many charges.

“Settle your hearts,” Seth said as he smiled and scratched the ears of a three legged dog. He tended to rescue animals when he could, he had ten animals: Wink, a one eyed cat, Jaws, a toothless hound, Jessy, the three legged dog, Tris and Isa, a pair of hawks, Bowly, a potbellied pig, Kit, Kat, and Kolby, three kittens, and Rhoda a ferret. He fed them all first, making sure each got their proper meal.

He stripped off his blacks and washed, it was important in his profession not to smell. When done he lay down on his large bed on the floor, Jessy laying down on his legs and Wink on his chest. Just the feeling of life around him cleansed him of what he did. The feeling of a needle sliding into someone’s neck, the intent of murder in his heart, they hummed under his skin like bees.

He woke early in the morning, he never needed much sleep. He spent an hour at home, making a breakfast of fried eggs and bacon, and spending some time with his charges. He put out some food for the stray cats that were too shy to stay with him. He left feeling a little lighter and dressed in one of his many disguises. Though he was dressed as a merchant, he still had many daggers hidden about his person.

He was dressed as a merchant of a lesser guild, having no particular specialty of goods. This persona he wore was actually a smuggler. What identified him as a merchant (or smuggler) was his hat, a mop cap with a merchant’s badge. The badge was simple brass, the emblem of the guild pressed into it: an arch with two lines in it which was the mark of the Kingdoms’ currency in notation. Of course this badge was a forgery, a poor one to match his disguise of a disguise.  

To add to it he wore a glamor, another mage’s trickery bought on the black market. The sigil was drawn on a medallion he wore under his shirt. A glamor could be powerful enough to make a man appear as a woman or even a child look like an adult, but such powerful sigils were expensive. Seth had bought a cheaper one that only slightly changed his appearance, making his features slightly different than his own. One got what one payed for, the quality of the glamor depended on how much you could pay.

A glamor had the other problem of only being an illusion, physical contact tended to dispel the illusion. So a glamor sigil wasn’t too popular if a slight touch to the illusionary parts dispelled the disguise. They also were not reflected, a mirror could show the true face of a person. Add to the fact that there were already sigils to make one beautiful, a glamor that wasn’t permanent seemed pointless. So they weren’t used much by the nobility, but many of the underworld loved them as minor disguises.

He left again for the Jackdaw’s Market, but he took a different route, to avoid anyone following him. He headed north toward the Hangman’s Quarter, a place many outlaws avoided, which made it all the better to go there from Rogue Town. Hangman’s Quarter was home to the dungeons that housed the criminals and those that were being punished. It was a huge prison delving underground. The area around the prison held the gallows, the courthouse, and guard house. The streets here were a mix of criminals being released and guards heading off to duty. It was both the most dangerous place to be and safest place to be for him.

Still he passed through the Hangman’s District most days without incident. He passed the gallows which gave the district its name. A crowd had gathered criminals, guards, and even civilians. Names were being called and men brought forward. The sound of bodies dropping and the rope snapping taunt were little more than more noise among the crowd.

As he left the square he passed the stocks and pillory where tax evaders and smugglers were put on display for their punishment. Thieves usually just had a finger cut off or a hand before they were let go to seek a healer. Rapist, it depended on the victim, murderers as well. Many were hanged, others put to work, and some were even let go (if they could pay the price).

Once past the cries of the suffering in the stocks he was out of the Hangman’s District and into the Poor Man’s Paradise. This was the second largest of the outer districts but held fewer buildings. Most were ruins without roofs or even many walls, but this was probably the most inhabited part of the city. The poorest of the poor lived here, many inside of tents or shacks built in the remains of older buildings. It was a warren of tents and people, constantly changing.

The smell of this district was the strongest because this was where the city’s garbage was dumped. Where there weren’t tents or ruins there were hills of refuse piled in vacant lots. Dogs roamed here like packs of wolves, the people little better. Some said this was the old Palace of Versae after it was burned in the war, but Seth knew it wasn’t. This part of the city certainly didn’t exist during the Aldan reign, but the new palace was built on the old foundations of the Palace of Versae. Seth had used many of the hidden tunnels that ran under the palace, a catacomb of tunnels that seemed to breathe with time.

Seth walked quickly through this district, mostly because of the smell. Most of the people he passed however were his own, Elmerians down on their luck. He was always surprised that there were so many of his people given how they were treated, little better than dogs. He had heard a Regarian say they breed like rats however, and Seth could agree given most Elmerians had ten children though only half those lived to adulthood.

A crowd drew his attention, few gathered in crowds here unless it was for a riot or mob. Yet this crowd didn’t seem unruly, rather calm actually. Seth stopped at the edge of the crowd as a man stepped up in the middle of the crowd, standing on a box. The man was much like everyone here, filthy and wrapped in rags. Yet there was something different about him, and Seth realized then that he was covered in weeping sores, his flesh rotting.

“Hail now my brothers and sisters!” The man said in a surprisingly strong voice. “Hail and heed me for I have seen the truth! The truth of Kal Ba’el the God of Gods!”

Seth had heard of this cult, it was mainly spreading among the Elmerians, yet the Regarians and the Sect were still unaware of it. The new followers of this religion were preaching against the Sect, most believing there was only one rightful god. Seth didn’t care either way, but it was certainly stirring up trouble with the peasants and poor. Seth could smell rebellion already, and blood. He turned and left, leaving the rotting man to preach his rotting truth to his rotten followers.

He finally saw Three Span Wall rising out of the refuse. The wall stood to keep this part of the city away from the inner part, not as any form of protection from an army. Of course an army would burn this part of the city to the ground should it ever attack. Glory’s Gate was the only way into the inner city from Poor Man’s Paradise, and the guards here were vigilant.

Of course they let Seth pass without a second glance; he wasn’t a vagabond and didn’t carry any visible weapons. Once in the merchant’s district it wasn’t far to his destination. The Deep Throat Lodge, just off from Jackdaw’s Market was a common gathering place form many smugglers and counterfeiters. Seth sat down at a table, the pub a little busy. Many people thought smugglers and criminals only worked in the dark hours, dealing in dark alleys or shady taverns. Many did stick to the night, but many kept regular hours just as any other merchant.

“Good to see you Seth,” Rim said as she sat across from him. She was from Xin, her skin a dark brown and hair lustrous black. Her eyes shown gold from her dark face, wrinkles distinguishing her age as her later years. She wore colorful robes and sashes, full of designs and patterns. A lizard sat on her shoulder, so still it seemed like a decoration.

“You too Rim, especially because you’ve the new merchandise,” Seth answered smoothly.

“All business,” Rim said as she rolled her eyes. Rim was his source of the rarest and strongest poison of the Nine Kingdoms, Snake Sand.

The infamous poison that killed several kings and queens through the ages, it is the strongest and most deadly poison. Ingesting just a few grains means an immediate but painful death; the person solidifies from the inside out. King Mahir of Xin was said to be poisoned with so much he became a statue. Snake Sand can only be found in the Ró-Ky, the Dead Sands, and the farthest of the seven sands to the south. Legend has it the Ró-Ky was made by the death of the Serpent King in the time of the Phay before the ages of Men.

“Always, even with you Rim,” Seth said. She sighed and set a jar on the table. The sand was so deadly it was double sealed in clay jars. Seth passed her what she needed, dried leaves from the Winter’s Tear Flower. Another rarity and Seth never stopped finding it amusing that he traded a cure-all for a poison. A rare flower from the Aldan Woods, Winter’s Tear was a cure all that could cure almost anything even ageing if used properly. The flower only grows in the Deep Woods and can’t be cultivated, it looks similar to a snowdrop but in a bush. Seth got this supply from another dealer that he traded with.

“Well I’m getting on in my years so I’d like at least a little chat,” Rim said in the Xinian tongue in case they were overheard. She spoke in the language of the nomads of the desert, a rarer tongue than even the Xinian cant. She had taught Seth the language just so she could talk to him in secret.

“I’ve some news,” Seth said in the same language. “If you’ve some that is worth mine.”

“Only one way to tell,” Rim said. “So tell.”

“Jeanne Lonna of the Mark is due to marry Prince Elrik soon to be high king,” Seth said lowly, he would only say this to Rim for free.

“Well that is news,” Rim said with a crooked grin. “Inside of Regis. In the sands no one even knows the name of the High King.”

“Are you welching Rim?” Seth asked. “Your news better be relevant outside of the sands.”

She sobered and Seth felt a chill up his spine, Rim was rarely serious.

“The Pridesmen have a chief,” Rim said at last.

“Pridesmen, those are the ones that ride the lions right?” Seth said and Rim glared at him. There were many nomadic tribes of the desert, each defined by what they rode to get about the sands. Rim was of the Zarmen, riders of giant snakes and tortoises, or so Rim said. Her lizard was the only sign of her tribe, who were the guardians of the dead sands, or so she said.

“Panthras are not lions as you know them on this side of the Spine,” Rim said, naming the mountain range that separated Lir from the deserts of Xin. “They have six legs, and are twice the size of lions. The Pridesmen are twice as vicious as their Panthras, the one solace we nomads have had is that they don’t work together. Until now.”

“So who is this chief?” Seth asked.

“Zar Ne Zar,” Rim said and Seth drew the meaning of his name.

“King of Kings, original.”

“That is not what he calls himself but what the Pridesmen call him,” Rim said. “A name given holds more to it than one you call yourself. He is not what you’d expect, be glad he still tied up with winning the Pridesmen. He isn’t on stable sand just yet to start anything.”

“Then why the warning?” Seth asked.

“Because the sands can shift in a single breath,” Rim answered. “My tribe has the most to worry about. The wealth of Snake Sand is too much for him to resist.”

“So you are worried about your cash cow,” Seth said as he laughed.

“The Hannah are unsettled, they dance in the night and sing in the day. Times are changing; the uniting of the Pridesmen is just a sign. Something is stirring in the great roads, Empyria quivers and the Wandering stars are pointing to signs of change. There are signs throughout the sands, the dunes sing when they once rested quiescent, the dead sands are shifting as if the Serpent King himself turns in his grave.”

Seth shivered openly, mainly in mockery. “Rim you should be a bard with that turn of phrase, or a prophet.”

“Be blind then outlander,” Rim spat. “My kith and kin have lived the sands from the times of the Serpent King in the beginnings of men. I know something stirs that we should fear.”

“What then?” Seth asked but Rim just puckered her lips and looked away. “Warnings of our doom are always vague and unhelpful.”

“And always go unheeded,” Rim answered. “Fine, ignore them if you wish. Tell others if you wish but I doubt anyone will find this news worth anything.”

“Traders will,” Seth answered. “Especially those of the slave trade given the Pridesmen are one of the main traffickers.”

“Aye sell it to who you wish you black hearted bastard,” Rim said as she stood and left with her prize. He took his before ordering lunch. The Deep Throat was actually a good place to eat, and when his food arrived Seth set in with relish. Fresh fried bacon, tomato, and lettuce between two slices of crunchy bread, with a mug of ale.

When he finished he dropped a few copper pieces on the table. Heading towards one of his hidden cashes to change clothes. He stopped in a small alley where a locked trunk was hidden in some brick work. He changed quickly into the palace livery and headed out by a trick door.

It wasn’t long before he was back in the palace reporting for work as a palace servant. While it was an alias he still needed to report for work; a palace servant was a hard job to come by. Today he was to report to the Queen’s Solar as a server for afternoon tea.

Queen Cecelia, Arian’s wife and mother of Elrik was famous for her beauty and lineage. She was from one of the old houses of Regis, from before they even crossed the sea into Miread. The house Drakon was second only to the royal house, though at first it had been the royal house of Regis until the Drasirs took over after the King’s Wars. Their house emblem was a wyvern rather than a dragon.

Seth entered the solar, pushing the cart full of food for the afternoon tea. The smell of the food was tempting and Seth was glad he had eaten before he came. The Regarians loved food and ate at least five meals a day, it was no wonder they were fat.

The Queen’s solar were her private chambers, few servants allowed in here. It had tall windows which looked out over the gardens, the evening sunshine lighting the room. The common room was full of the women of court, all sitting around or about the Queen. With two sigils of beauty enhancing her looks Cecelia still drew the eye. Her flesh was like dough, just as pale and soft making her plump and fat by Seth’s standards. Her hair was as golden as wheat and if rumors were true dusted with flecks of real gold. Seth never got close enough to see.

He walked around serving tea and sweets, but one of the ladies took a platter to the Queen. Seth knew that if he had death wish he could easily kill the queen, but the chances of escape were low. Not that he really wanted to, Cecelia’s brain was just like her flesh, doughy and half baked. Her two daughters Lilith and Pricilla, sat by her like pet dogs. Both looked just like their mother, but without her wits, if that were even possible to be dumber than the Queen cow.  

Seth’s thoughts on the royal line were scattered when the door opened and the mother of all bitches sauntered in bold as brass. Lady Ileana Myrddin, daughter of the current King of Dridia and mother of Anton, she was the disruptive force in the court. Lithe but shapely she was more like polished porcelain but just as pale as Cecelia. Her hair like all mage’s was white, but with a rainbow incandescence like opals. Her eyes glowed red like rubies, her power as a mage sparking in their depths. She like other mages never told anyone what enhancing sigils she bore, and with mages it was always hard to tell.

“I seemed to have missed my invitation to this evening’s tea,” she said dryly as she sauntered up to the Queen. She completed an elegant curtsy as if she really meant it.

“You weren’t invited,” Cecelia said tartly, she may have been soft in the head, but even she knew who and what Ileana was. Ileana didn’t even bat an eye at her obvious insult; she was as composed as glass.

“Come now Cecelia, let us not bicker,” Ileana said sweetly. “After all I come bearing the most interesting gossip.”

Seth nearly laughed at the look on the Queen’s face, interest mixed with disgust. Her curiosity won.

“A chair for the Lady Ileana,” she said to Seth. He bowed and went to the edge of the room to fetch a chair. He returned and placed it at the table with the Queen.

As he walked back to his place another woman flagged him down. He stopped instantly a bowed; this woman was different from all the others. Sherah Rue, the sister of the king, was his patron and the reason he could serve in the castle. He wasn’t sure she knew what he was or not as she had never bought his services, to him she seem actually kind at times. She unlike everyone else bore no enhancements, her own natural beauty stunning enough in Seth’s opinion.

“Grey, might you deliver this to my son?” She asked holding out a small note. She looked much like her brother, though not as harsh in her features. After she had been widowed, her Lirian husband dead from an assassin’s hand, she returned to the Court of Miracles and the grace of her brother. She sat at the edge of the gossiping women, alone as she was in court.

“Yes milady,” he said as he took the note.

“How are you today?” She asked, sounding genuinely interested. “I hope Wink hasn’t been bothering you.”

“She is the perfection of health milady,” he said. Sherah had found Wink after Elrik had dug out her eye with a dull spoon. She had brought the cat to Seth in tears, knowing what her nephew had done. “As am I. And you milady?”

“I worry,” Sherah answered. “My son will be safer once Elrik is married and more secure in his throne. At the same time… Well I fear seeing that pain like Wink’s in a girl.”

“Milady has a kind heart,” Seth said soothingly, but flattery didn’t work on Sherah who looked at him wryly.

“Promise me something Gray, look out for her, even just a little,” Sherah said.

“I am just a servant milady,” he said and she looked at him so knowingly he suddenly doubted his assessment of her. “I must go deliver your message milady,” he said to avoid too many words in such a place.

“Thank you Gray,” she said and he hurried away.

Seth knew where to find her son Nicodemus Rue. The library of the palace wasn’t entirely as impressive at the one in Myr, but it had its own charm. In a small corner in the north wing the library was dark and dusty. Seth couldn’t count the aisles; it was a confusing maze that seemed endless because of the dark corners. Seth spent some time searching through the aisles for Nicodemus, and eventually found him nose deep in a dusty tomb.

Seth’s night vision was good, so even though Nicodemus only had a dim lamp he could see him clearly. He looked more like his father, typical Lirian olive skin and black hair. He was slight of build, but tall making him seem very frail.  

“Are you here to kill me?” he asked mildly, not even looking up from his book.

“No milord,” Seth said dryly. If he wanted to kill him he’d be dead before he even realized it. “I’ve a message from your mother.”

He handed the message over and watched as Nicodemus read it and then burned it. He looked up at Seth then. His eyes though almond shaped were blue like his mother’s, but hidden behind thick spectacles for reading.

“So my cousin is to marry then, and it is the first binding of two royal lines since Princess Iael married into the Drasir house. Do you know the history?” He asked enthused and before Seth could answer he continued. “High King Itheal’s baby sister fell in love with Duke Hugues Drasir during a joust. They famously ran away together, though she died in childbirth. Her son became the next Duke Renaud Drasir.

“His grandson Arian Drasir became the first Regarian High King by winning the King’s Wars after the line of succession was broken by the death of Terrian IV Alvar the last Aldan King. He died childless and without a clear heir. There were three candidates to the throne of the High King. First was Arian Drasir of course, third cousin to the King. Then there was Tarquin Abel Sinistra, cousin first removed by the male line but a minor noble of the Mark. Then there was Reed Tira-Dora, Terrian’s uncle by marriage to his aunt Avila, but he was a Duke of Alda.

“The Wars lasted…”

“Thank you for the history lesson milord,” Seth said before he could go off completely on a history lecture. “I have duties I need to perform.”

“Yes of course,” Nicodemus answered disappointed. “You may go.”

“Thank you milord,” Seth said as he bowed. Seth liked his mother but Nicodemus was too dry to talk to. Seth left the lordling to his books, having other duties and his own leads to pursue.