#but the cheer blend is apparently helpful but I still haven’t used it yet

[yourlocalgrass]

I was checking the intimacy calls for the characters checking who’s sounds fun and I saw…

DRUNK Lucifer?? On CALL??

We’ve had drunk lucifer on text but I WILL see this man drunk on call because it will be so funny. Time to start the intimacy grind watch me speedrun (it’ll take me a good 2 years or more probs…)

[mccall-me-maurice]

Goddamn another long ass post, don’t ask me why

So as I’ve noticed, a lot of people have come to see or have even started shipping Mauram. And whether this is linked to me oR NOT i want to explain why I ship it, because apparently I haven’t done that yet. [Under the Cut]

okay so mauram is a ship name for maurice and sam. so canonically maurice is more of a jokester. he kicks sand in peoples faces and then acts like a fool to make them happy again. because while maurice may be a hunter and by technicality, a “savage”, he still feels empathy. he definitely follows jack, but clearly isn’t the smartest (ie the squid conversation) and while he enjoys being a hunter, he seems to be in it for more of the fun side of things and being a child. Sam is also more childish because he was younger at the time and is easily scared by stuff like the beastie or the fucken. man with a parachute. however, he joined the hunters by force and was tortured, and yet he still helped ralph, so he is by default, a less “savage” person canonically. however, if you jump into general headcanons regarding the two, the twins AND maurice are both very mischievous and pull pranks on people. their personalities are oddly similar to most people when creating traits for them because a) they’re not really described in the book all that much and b) when they are, their actions end up leading to a similar personality. usually the twins are considered smarter than maurice, seeing as in a lot of text posts hes the one cracking jokes that are pretty dumb or having a lack of knowledge. their headcanoned personalities match together so well because of their similarities and their differences, what maurice lacks, sam makes up for. theoretically it’s like two pieces of a puzzle if you dive into how people headcanon them.

CANONICALLY however, they have very limited to no interactions that are written but that’s because the book is from ralphs perspective, making ralph be the protagonist so you never really get to see any of the hunters interactions with the twins while they’re being tortured. Or even if maurice is there. but they were still alive and the question is why. because jack would gladly have them dead, two other people have died. and roger really doesn’t give a shit, let’s be real. he would gladly kill the twins AND they have enough hunters. so that means that theoretically, someone that jack trusted or at least would listen to had to speak up against killing them either because the hunters aren’t as mad as jack and roger or because there was an established relationship with the twins that made them feel sympathetic. and the only person who has nearly as much power over jack as roger is maurice, seen earlier in the book during hunting. maurice had to be the one to speak up about the twins because he’s the only one with enough leverage over jack to get him to convince roger that killing the twins is unnecessary, and they should be kept alive because they could be “useful” when in fact, they were not useful to the tribe because they helped ralph.

and in modern aus, the twins are usually still ralphs friends and maurice is jacks because there’s typically the split between the two as there was on the island. but most of the time, maurice isn’t really involved because it’s a jalph fic or a rogermon one and maurice just isn’t there. furthermore, maurice tends to be a second option to his friends canonically, most of them bothered by him unless he does something funny or is needed for work. guess what? so are the twins. and the boys played around a lot on the beach, so maurice and the twins more than likely had interactions that just weren’t mentioned.

Fics/ Headcanons

so the choir usually exists in modern/no island aus because they need simon to know the boys so he can be a good boy like simon usually does. the twins usually have some of the biggest vendettas against the choir in the fics i’ve read because the choir gets oddly physical with them. however when fights occur, jack gets ralph, roger gets simon ((if hes even being responsive)) and maurice usually takes the twins. also the twins are usually straight in the fics which i think is just a way of having internalised homophobia because they are. way too straight. nobody is that straight, you bring men up and they’re like HAHA ANYWAYS, WOMEN. in a lot of fics, eric is the one who has the worse anger for the choir and is like. super pissy at all of them. and to me it’s because sam sees himself in maurice a little bit due to their usual similarities and hes just more soft spoken and doesn’t want to confront anyone about it. which leads to the perfect setup for a crush on maurice that he doesn’t even realise is there because he was so caught up realising how similar they are and how much more popular and, in theory, better maurice is that instead of doing what he sees people like piggy or eric doing, which is saying “i wish i could be like the hunters and walk around like i own the place”, he doesn’t want to be like maurice, he wants to be with maurice. however, because of his usual internalised homophobia, he convinces himself that he wants to be maurice and talk like his friends do, but he doesn’t really use the same bitter language, as he’s usually written nicer and even though he’s mischievous, he’s the kinder hearted twin most times. so he obviously isn’t fond of the choir members, but he still wishes he was like them to an extent and everything just kind of falls into place logistically that he, at some point, has a crush on one of the choir members

so why maurice? why not ralph or someone else?

well because all of his friends had never displayed the amount of similarities to him that maurice had. and none of them had displayed the empathy maurice undoubtedly did in the scenarios where things got physical. maurice himself was canonically never as physical as everyone else. he never really hurt anyone that was serious and not a joke. while ralph was kind to him, ralph was very disinterested in people, which i don’t even need to delve into canon for that, he was bored of people like every other line. simon is very introverted and spends most time with ralph and the choir typically, not seen with the twins as often. and piggy himself is just whiny in an endearing way but doesn’t reflect sams own personality. and while people think “opposites attract” (ie ralph and jack or roger and simon), that isn’t always the case. and with how sam behaved and spent time around those who he matched up with personality wise, he would, in theory, only like people who have fragments of his mind in theirs. back to the pieces of a puzzle thing. they have to be pieces of the *same* puzzle, not different ones.

so what about maurice?

maurice’s decisions are influenced by the choir, because he follows them around a lot when it comes to making big choices. he’s less violent by nature and more joking so when his friends bully ralph’s, he probably doesn’t take it as seriously as he should. but he doesn’t really like being angry and that’s on canon, when he kicked sand into percival’s eyes then joked around to cheer him up. maurice doesn’t like other people feeling bad because of his own actions. so he’s probably nicer to ralph’s friends than anyone else just because he has a tough time handling consequences. which leads to his nicer personality meeting sams less aggressive to the choir vibe and even though he is less observant, he still notices how similar they are. and unlike sam, he wants to be *like* sam because he is less vibrant and less out there and blends into a crowd better. and deep down, he doesn’t want to be a “bully” because he still has a heart and empathy. however, the feeling of “i want to be him” switches over to “i want to be with him” once he starts really looking at sam’s actions more than he did before because of how much they could, and would, click with each other. but of course if he were to ever talk to anyone in the choir about it, he would face horrible consequences so he, in turn, gets worse with the teasing and while he doesn’t get physical, he gets meaner as a defence mechanism so nobody else finds out which is what could’ve happened canonically, as of his descent into savagery.

[bts-ficrecs]

Hi! Can you recommend a few Jungkook marriage fics please! Open to all genres. Thanks! ❤️

(header cr: guwoljk)

y’know this ask made me realize how rare married fics -- that aren’t drabbles -- are lol. outside of arranged marriage aus 😂

but no worries. i did find a good amount for you anon! thanks for this lovely request :”)

If anyone has any other husband!Jk fics that I didn’t include on this list, let me know!! (cause I need it too😂)

Sorry if this clogs your feed. idk why whenever I answer an ask, my “read more” is always stuck in the actual ask where i cannot edit it out at all

KEY: (☆) = arranged marriage / ( F ) = fluff / ( A ) = angst / ( S ) = smut

 

 

The Brat by obiwrites (F)

 » Summary: It was now you and him against the world. There was just one thing…

 

Bunny Bigot by obiwrites (F)

 » Summary: “Hey babe,” you call, startling the boy hunched down in a corner, “is there a reason you’re hiding in our closet?”

 » Sequel: Baby Bun & The Little Gardener

 

Child's Play by obiwrites (F)

 » Summary: Jungkook's always had a ... unique approach to parenting

 

Concealed Weapon by @gimmesumsuga (M)

 » Summary: Jungkook turns out not to be quite who you thought he was, and your reaction takes you both by surprise.

 

Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs by obiwrites (F)

 » Summary: The plot of cloudy with a chance... but with Jungkook

 » Sequel: Part 2

 

Desiderium by @jeonggukingdom (M)

 » Summary: “We’ve been at it like rabbits, how are you still so horny?”

 

Home is Where You Are by @sweetbunnykook  (F A)

 » Summary: Madness and love grows from the same root in the Jeon family.

 

I Can’t Help Myself, I Don’t Want Anyone Else by obiwrites (F)

 » Summary: A follow up piece to Just The Girl. A glimpse at the wedding, life after marriage and then some!

 » More spinoffs: Life is Good (pregnant!OC) & The Kids Are Alright (1st day of school)

 

It’s Enough by @dark-muse-iris (A)

 » Summary: Preparing dinner reminds you of all the struggles you’ve experienced in your marriage. Your husband Jungkook, ever your anchor, tries to cheer you up with gentle words.

 

Late Night Cravings by erifish14 (F)

 » Summary: Imagine having a child with Jungkook

 

Meet the Jeon-Son’s by obiwrites (F A)

 » Summary: The little girl studies your face for a long time, like she’s trying to put together the pieces of a puzzle that haven’t for a long time.

 

Stress Relief by @hobidreams (S)

 » Summary: “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” “Kissing my wife?”

 

Sweater Weather by @bangtanstanst (F)

 » Summary: When Jungkook comes back from a run and you have the audacity to laugh at his admittedly bad decision to go outside in the rain, he makes sure to take his revenge.

 

The Next by @kpopfanfictrash (F)

 » Summary: No matter the fact that this is your fourth child, nor that every other pregnancy was fine – sitting in this seat, awaiting the news is always incredibly nerve-wracking. This is the moment you determine if your baby is healthy, or not.

 

Things You Said At 1 AM by @foreverpark (F M)

 » Summary: More often than not, you spend around one to two hours in bed, watching the clock tick with the dialogue of a feel-good movie or drama keeping you company, waiting for your husband to come back from his never-ending dance practices.

 

 

After All Night by @btsracket​ (M)

» Summary: “Your mom has the baby so let’s make good use of the time.”

 

All in My Head by @fatrainbowmermaidunicorn (☆ F A)

 » Summary: Jeon Jungkook’s wife. Something you have always wanted to be. Something you have always dream of. But it's something you know won't ever come true. Until today.

 

Always and Forever by @joonglows (F)

 » Summary: From childhood friends to boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s time for an upgrade. Now, you are living a happily ever after with your dear husband, Jungkook, with three loving kids and one on it’s way.

 

Black Card by @minsprings (F A S)

 » Summary: A long night at another one of your obligatory high society functions has you desperate to relieve some stress with your husband Jungkook, who’s been apparently hiding a kink from you for some time.

 » Status: complete two-shot

 

Desperate Housewife by @kimnjss (M)

 » Summary: Bored with your husband gone all the time, you decide to take up a new hobby… Jungkook can only seem to focus on one thing when it comes to your new pastime.

 

Fierce and Delicate by @mintseesaw (F A)

 » Summary: Jungkook and y/n had been brought in two different worlds. Jungkook living an unfortunate life and y/n being controlled by her parents all her life. Despite the imperfect relationship, they completed each other like a puzzle there is. Jungkook has one promise he intends to keep: to always make you happy. In the process of fulfilling your wish he had once declined you of, he kept a secret from you. And unintentionally, he has done more damages than expected…Every action, and every decision… could be blamed by the flawed past.

 » Sequel: Felicity (F A S)

 

From What Stars Have We Fallen to Meet Each Other Here by muhammie (☆ F A)

 » Summary: Yoongi and Jungkook learn how to love in a marriage they never wanted to be in.

 » Note: yes, this is mxm

 

Holiday Blunder by obiwrites (F A)

 » Summary: The one where it’s the worst Thanksgiving in the world but your husband makes it mildly better.

 

Lumière by @taehyung-me-down (series) (☆ F A S)

 » Status: ongoing series

 » Summary: Fate has a way of bringing together two souls meant to be, but to a princess like you, soulmates are out of the question. As the sole heir of the throne, it is your duty to create a strong allegiance, one that will protect your reign. Your marriage with a prince from a neighboring kingdom was sealed from the moment you entered this world, two destinies intertwining. All you yearn for is a love that will ignite your soul. One that will have your head spinning in the clouds and your heart drowning in desire. Soulmates will meet, regardless of time, location, or circumstances, but it’s up to you. There’s one thing you must do. Seek the light, and find the love of a lifetime.

 

Mafia Arranged Marriage by @leahsockhead01 (☆ F A)

 » Summary: You knew your parents had secrets but, you never realized they went as deep as the mafia. Your father was apparently a secret Consigliere. A “close friend” to the leader of Seoul’s mafia crime group. In order to officially blend your family into the mafia, you had been elected to marry the leader’s son. Upon meeting your betrothed, you run. Then something happens… to bring you back.

 

Money, Power, Respect by @minnpd (A S)

 » Summary: You catch his eye the moment you walk through the door, low-cut dress doing its job like you knew it would.

 

Of Caresses And Promises by @ditttiii (F A S)

 » Summary: You love your husband and you know that he loves you just as much, if not more. But sometimes, you can’t help but feel like he could do better—better than you.

 

Put Your Head on My Shoulder by koorara (F A S)

 » Summary: You were worried to bring Jungkook along to your hometown and grandma has never met Jungkook, and yes, she is lovely but what if she suddenly doesn’t approve of him? That would break his heart.

 

Second Chances by @parkhabits (F A S)

 » Summary: Work. One of the most important things to him. It kept him company at night, it was all he thought about, all he put his attention to. His work had become the mistress within your marriage. Years after you left him you’re back with only one goal in mind. Get him to sign the damn divorce papers. Yet you should’ve known that your husband wouldn’t let you go that easily.

 

Smitten by @megahwn (☆ F S)

 » Summary: You live in a world where loving another is criminal. Partners are chosen by your elders to produce the best offspring and to help the economy thrive. Living in this world, you feel broken. You feel broken because you have accidentally fallen for your new husband, Jeon Jungkook.

 

Taking Chances by @neonlights92 (☆ F A S)

 » Status: complete series

 » Summary: “Jeon Jungkook is an asshole.”

 

The Pitter-Patter of the Heart by koorara (F)

 » Status: ongoing series

 » Summary: Pieces of newlywed domestic moments with Jungkook, your husband. The young Film and Literature lecturer and his wife, you, who works as a journalist of a web magazine. Both of you managing the career, the time for each other and the new house. Not to forget the cat that has been with you for years.

 » Drabble: Valentine (S)

 

The Husband She Didn't Want by MyTime2Shine (☆ A S)

 » Status: ongoing series

 » Summary: Kim Mi Cha life was a miserable one since her mother had died at a young age. By 22 she was taking care of her alcoholic father who was often abusive to her. Her only respite would be when he'd leave her to go gamble as his addiction was getting out of control. She dreamed and believed in true love despite her upbringing. Her spoiled brat of a neighbor across the way from her was Jeon Jungkook. // Jeon Jungkook's life was happy and privileged one. He lived the life of a rich and only child to both of his parents who gave him whatever he wanted. Age at 23 Jungkook had become CEO Jeon Jungkook when his parents were killed in a car accident. He thought love was for the weak. His neighbor across the way from him was the shy and timid Kim Mi Cha. // Kim Mi Cha's father ends up at a poker game with CEO Jungkook and Jungkook ends up winning the game but the prize was Kim Mi Cha?

 

The Lie Untold by @54daysormore (☆ F A S)

 » Status: complete series

 » Summary: In a world where everyone has their secrets, Jung-Kook, young and naïve, wants nothing more than his marriage to a stranger to be open and honest.  His new bride, young yet experienced, knows how many lies people tell every day, but hopes her new husband never sees through her own.

 

Untitled by @lamourche (F A)

 » Summary: “I lost our baby”

 

Your First Time by @nitaescence (F S)

 » Summary: Your child performs for the first time in the school's end of year show.

[harrysweasleys]

all the things you do // d.m

Summary: Hi I was wondering if you would make a Draco X Reader where the reader is suffering from some Mental illness issues if possible? If not I completely understand! thank you for doing what you do

Warnings: PTSD, brief mentions of death

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: sweet anon, i’m sorry if you wanted this set during hogwarts times but i just instinctively thought of writing this post-war! also i don’t know why the ending rhymes. i’m a poet, apparently! enjoy :) x

——————————

Draco Malfoy had always been a naturally confident man. He usually walked with his head held high, his shoulders broad and straightened and his posture nearly impeccable.

He practically radiated confidence. And he was damn proud of that fact, all thanks to you.

The Second Wizarding War had taken a drastic toll on Draco. He had lost everything about who he was meant to be. He lost any contact with his parents, lost his identity and his friends, and even lost the path he had carved for himself. Or, really, the path his parents had carved for him. He had never really wanted to become a Death Eater — but it was all he knew. His parents had shaped this life for him and he was just living in it.

But when the war ended and peace was settling upon the Wizarding world once more, that’s when you came into Draco’s life. He knew you, of course. He had noticed you throughout the years at Hogwarts without ever making a move to speak to you. At first, you blended into the crowd. Just another face in a big world. But, as the years progressed, you slowly became more prominent in the Slytherin prince’s life.

He found you captivating in every possible way. You were soft, gentle, kind, sweet beyond compare. Everything seemed to hold a good place in your heart and Draco was enchanted by everything you did. Had he formed a teeny tiny crush? Maybe — possibly. But he never made an effort in getting to know you, knowing how his time at Hogwarts was going to end. And he knew it was going to end bloody. The last thing he wanted was to drag your into it. Someone so sweet, so pure.

When Voldemort was defeated, the dust settled, and order began getting restored, Draco wondered what had happened to you. Wondered where you’d run off to, where you’d be resting now that there was no longer an imminent threat around every dark corner. He thought about you a lot, really.

He’d thought about the way the sunshine made your hair glow, or the way your cheeks turned a light pink under any sort of attention, or even the way that your eyes lit up every time Hagrid would bring out another strange, possibly dangerous creature to demonstrate to an eager class. He had always hated Care of Magical Creatures, found it completely useless, but he adored watching your face light up upon being introduced to new species. 

He had thought about you so much, really, that he couldn’t find the proper words to say when he bumped into you strolling through Diagon Alley one cloudy afternoon, your scarf tied tightly around your neck and your long coat billowing lightly in the fresh wind. You had looked the same as you did the last time he saw you, but a few things had changed. You cut your hair, your skin was slightly more tanned, and you were wearing a hint of makeup that brought out the gorgeous colour of your eyes. 

“You’re Draco,” you had said, smiling up at him. The same breathtaking smile you had given him on a few occasions at school. 

Nearly forgetting to speak, Draco had spluttered out a lame, “That’s me.”

However, you had invited him over for tea to catch up at your flat a week later — despite his lameness upon your interaction — and Draco felt himself falling for you all over again. Luckily for him, you felt the same, and the two of you made it official in just a few weeks. It felt rather quick, but both of you knew that there was a reason you bumped into each other, and that reason felt like it was coming to be under a romantic light.

And with you in his life, Draco felt himself returning to his previous charm. He found himself smiling, forgetting, forgiving. It was a new look on him, but he didn’t mind it one bit.

However, while Draco was improving, he noticed you slowly beginning to change. And not for the better. He’d find you staring at the ceiling late at night, unable to sleep. He’d noticed how you’d pick at your plate but would never eat anything. He’d noticed how you jumped at sounds or spells that would happen nearby. And now that he was paying more attention, he noticed how you haven’t touched your wand since that day. 

You had also stopped caring about things that used to make you incredibly happy. Movie nights, walking through old London streets, the rumbling sound of thunder and heavy rain.

He figured you were just stressed — still not used to a ‘quiet’ lifestyle. But he couldn’t even fool himself. There was something wrong with you and he hated to think he couldn’t help.

“Love, you’re worrying me,” he sat you down one afternoon, his hand laced in yours as your eyes landed on him. You had been reading a book, but been on the same page for nearly fifteen minutes. You were usually a rather speedy reader, Draco knew you weren’t really paying attention to the book.

“Why?” you asked, blinking rapidly as you put your attention on him.

He hesitated, unsure if telling you all the things he noticed you were doing would set you off. The last thing he wanted was for you to become defensive or insulted.

“What’s wrong?” he decided to ask.

He noticed the way your face seemed to drop, but you composed yourself and furrowed your eyebrows, “Do you think about the death that we saw?”

Taken aback by your blunt question, he stared blankly at you. Had he been affected by seeing young bodies scattered around the Hogwarts grounds, bloody and lifeless? Yes. Had it haunted him for weeks? Yes. But did he continue to dwell on it? No.

He hated that so many of these young students died believing he was a villain, that he was the reason all of the tragedy had happened. He hated the thought that he was on the same side as the force that killed dozens of innocent kids. But as he moved on in his life, he felt as if he had also redeemed himself. That he had improved and learned from his mistakes. And although Draco Malfoy didn’t believe he had much to pride himself on, he definitely took pride in that.

“I used to,” he replied truthfully, forcing away the horrid flashbacks to the brutally gruesome scene at Hogwarts the last time he stepped foot there.

You nodded, “I still do. And I can’t stop thinking about it. Every time I close my eyes, I see their dead ones staring back at me.”

Suddenly, Draco’s mouth felt awfully dry and the crushing feeling in his chest seemed to amplify, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He watched as your eyes closed and reopen, the gears in your head spinning as you thought about what to say next, “Because I didn’t know how. I remember how guilty you felt after the war and I don’t want you to think this is your fault.”

Draco furrowed his eyebrows and scooted closer to you, “If you’re dealing with something, I don’t care if it’s about me or not. You can tell me anything, love. You don’t have to, but if you want to, I’m always here.” 

You gave him a weak smile, “I know. I’m sorry. I was being stubborn. I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Love,” he spoke, his voice coarse as his throat felt like it was closing in, “You’re never burdening me. We’re in this together, remember?”

And he stuck true to his word.

By the next few weeks, you found yourself able to sleep more than one hour a night. It was both thanks to Draco — who was helping you every second of the day — and thanks to the therapist you had begun to see in central London.

One of the very few Wizarding therapists, Draco offered to pay the hefty price for every session you attended. So far, you had only been to four sessions, but you already found that talking about your thoughts had improved them greatly.

“How was your session today?” Draco asked you over dinner that evening, placing his fork down and smiling over at you.

“Good,” you spoke back softly, “Feeling better. She seemed impressed that I actually slept four hours last night. And that it was my first night in a week without a nightmare.”

“Did she tell you to do anything?” he asked, lips curving up into a slight smile.

You nodded, “Told me to just take an evening off. Bubble bath, watch some crap telly — a normal evening, really.”

Draco smiled faintly, “We can do that.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, and Draco noticed that for the first time in a while, your smile didn’t look forced. Your shoulders slouched as you relaxed, continuing to munch lightly on the lovely dinner Draco had cooked up to cheer your spirits.

The rest of the evening was peaceful. The two of you sat in the bubble bath, talking and laughing about some old memories and even what you thought would happen in your near future. Then, you both wrapped yourselves up in comfy clothing and blankets and sat on the couch watching re-runs of old sitcoms until the middle of the night.

Draco’s heart did a little leap in his chest every time you laughed — every time you did so much as smile. He knew you weren’t fully ready, weren’t fully yourself just yet. But every step that he noticed improvement was a huge deal.

He had no problem doing all the chores around the house — cooking, cleaning, laundry — as you took time to yourself. It brought him joy, really, knowing that every little thing he did would help push you to improvement. Some days were better than others, but he didn’t complain once, for he knew that helping you would take time.

And he was willing to be as patient as possible for you.

“I love you,” he muttered to you that night as the cheesy sitcom played in the background, pressing a delicate kiss to the spot under your ear.

“I love you too,” you replied softly. He fought back a massive smile, turning to face you and lightly placing his lips on your temple. His entire body broke out into goosebumps at your words.

No matter what was going to come your way, no matter what people would say, Draco Malfoy had promised both you and himself that he’d be there every second of the day.

[rainofaugustsith]

Fanfiction: Thank you, Jedi

So in light of my annoyance about the end of the Jedi Consular story and my belief that Jenari needed a hug, I felt the need to write this. HER CREW WILL GIVE HER A HUG, DAMN IT. A few of Satele and Kaedan’s lines are paraphrased from the JC class story. 

The lights in the Galactic Senate are always so bright. Jenari pushes the complaint out of her head as she strides across the auditorium. Still, the glare of the lights on the marble pierces right into her eyes, and she's tempted to shield them as she walks. One step. Another. Her boots echo on the marble as she ascends the dais.  There's never been this much fuss afforded to her before, Jenari muses. Stopping ancient plagues? Being a diplomat? All in a day's work, apparently. Defusing the Children of the Emperor? For that, Supreme Chancellor Saresh wanted a ceremony. As Jenari takes her place on the podium next to Nadia, Felix and Qyzen Fess, her cheeks are warm with pleasure. It's nice to hear a 'thank you,' she realizes. Not that she requires one. Not that she expects it. It's still nice.  Jenari's mind wanders as Saresh continues her speech. Accolades and boons are offered to the worlds of the Rift Alliance. Credits. Permission to settle on a planet. Recognition. It isn't until the end of the presentation that Master Satele Shan motions for her to step foward.  "You were responsible for this, and yet, you have asked for nothing for yourself," Satele says. "Your relentless pursuit of the First Son merits a unique role. We would like to make you our special military advisor. You will help track down the remaining Children."  Jenari is silent. They are rewarding her work with more work; with a promise that her involvement in the war will not end. Felix exhales, a slow release of breath that speaks volumes without a single word. He understands what has happened. Beside him, Qyzen gnashes his teeth. Jenari can all but read his mind: Is wrong that the Herald is treated this way. She looks into his eyes, pleading with him to stay silent. Qyzen grinds his teeth again, but complies. Nadia's hands are balled into fists, and Jenari reaches out to her. Please. Nadia grimaces.  "We would prefer you to focus on assisting the Republic, rather than Council duties," Master Kaedan says briskly. "I'm sure you understand."  "It's for the best," Master Satele says. "Your expertise would not be fully appreciated on Tython."  "Of course, Masters," Jenari says quietly. Of course, it's wrong. Of course, there's no way to argue it. Not here. Not now. Not ever, Jenari realizes. This is how it's always going to be. The audience is on their feet, cheering for her, and she smiles slightly. Nadia puts one hand on her shoulder; Felix does the same. She stands silently, nodding and drinking in the applause, fighting back the hot tears that will overflow when she is alone in her cabin on her ship.  *  "Jen?" Nadia's voice is muffled through the thick door separating Jenari's cabin from the rest of the ship. Jenari raises her head from her pillow. She has no idea what time it is. She doesn't care. She hasn't even changed her clothes; the robes she wore to the Galactic Senate chafe against her neck and wrists.  "What do you need?" Jenari says listlessly. There's never anything else to say, is there? Someone will always need her. Need from her. Take and take until she is one with the Force. She's accepted this grim actuality, she realizes. She doesn't like it. But there's no other option.  "Shuuru called a meeting."  "Now?"  "Yes. It's urgent. You know how he is."  "Give me five minutes," Jenari mutters, ambling into the fresher. A splash of water to the face. A quick rake of fingers through the hair. Jenari shrugs. It doesn't matter how she looks. She shuffles to the door and opens it. Nadia is still in the hallway, bouncing foot to foot.  "Good. Come on," Nadia says, leading the way. Jenari listlessly follows her into the Defender's main living space, where her team is gathered around the library.   "I heard you called a meeting, Shuuru," Jenari says, her voice dull.  "Yes, Jedi," Shuuru says. "We have a problem. A very serious problem."  Of course you do, Jenari thinks to herself. Everyone always does.  "We all felt that you were not properly rewarded at the ceremony," Felix begins.   "There's not much we can do about it," Jenari says, surprised. "I don't know why we should even discuss it."  "We can't do anything about your bosses, that's true," Alauni says. "But we can reward you ourselves."  "That's not necessary," Jenari says, blushing as Alauni places a large box in her lap. Inside, Jenari discovers several sets of beautiful, lush robes, dyed powder blue and white.  "I had them tailored," Alauni says. "I borrowed your outer robe so the tailors could work from it. I hope you don't mind."  "I...no, I don't mind...thank you." Jenari holds one of the robes to her chest, running her fingers across the soft fabric.  "This is also for you," Shuuru says, handing her another box. "It's soothing tea from Manaan. There are several blends. One for pain of spirit; one for pain of body; one for general relaxation."  "This will be an excellent addition to the med bay's supplies," Jenari says brightly.  "No, Jedi. It's for you."  "I know how much you like to read," Felix says, stepping forward with yet another box. "These datapads are loaded with the titles from the main library in Coruscant. I couldn't get them all, so I tried to choose the categories I thought you'd like. The blue datapad has perpetual subscriptions to about ten different magazines. And this one is another subscription. They'll send you ten graphic novels every month."  Jenari presses her hand to her mouth and blinks back tears. "Open mine, open mine," Nadia chirps, jumping forward and handing Jenari a basket. Pulling back the lid, Jenari spies several pins and necklaces, as well as a warm bathrobe, blanket, slippers and a selection of bath gels.  "The jewelry is from Sarkhai," Nadia beams. "And the scents are from around the galaxy. All different flowers. It's a weighted blanket. It's really snuggly."   Gaden-Ko staggers into the room, carrying an exquisite carved chair with thick cushions. "This is from Voss. I thought you needed a more comfortable place to sit. It will look lovely with - " "With our gift," Holiday says, popping into the room. "We set up a fountain and mood lighting for your suite. Very soothing. Images of waterfalls and mountains, since we know you like them. And a new sound system. Tharan's installing them now. There's a permanent access pass to the Galactic Music Depository in your name, so you will be able to listen to whatever you like."  Jenari opens her mouth, closes it without speaking, and tries a second time. "The ceremony was just yesterday. How did you...how..."  "You've saved the galaxy in less time than that," Nadia winks. "We have our ways."  "Herald, we did not forget you," Qyzen Fess says, stepping forward and presenting her with a sword and shield and a bushel of fruit. "Is forged from Trandoshan durasteel from warrior's armor. For you. Also, apples you love from Alderaan orchards."  Jenari nods and brushes more tears from her eyes.

"Well, Jedi, if we're done with these niceties, I think you should get back to work," Shuuru says gruffly. "Your presence is required on Manaan for a pressing mission."  "Of course. What is it?" Jenari says. "What will be required of me?"  "You're going to the best spa in Ahto City. Your task will be...to do nothing but relax," Shuuru says. "And I fully expect that your mission on Manaan will take some time. At least a month.  Maybe two or three.  I'm sure we can find reasons to keep you, ahem, working, on Manaan. Thank you for everything, Jedi."   Jenari's jaw drops.  "Navicomputer's already set," Felix cheerfully interjects. "Manaan, here we come."  "I think you're going to need your full team for this mission, too," Nadia grins. "We've all got your back, of course."  "There's one more thing," Diab Duin says, motioning for Jenari to follow him. "Come on."  Jenari's eyes open wide as she walks into the conference room. The table is covered with food. Wine. Desserts. Richly prepared vegetable medleys. And everything is a dish she loves. Hallow Voice stands at the side of the room, roasting meat on an open fire.  "Food is almost done, Ember Fist," Hallow Voice says. "Hunted especially for you. " "What?" Jenari stammers. "What's going on?"  "Sit," Aluani says, pushing Jenari into the chair at the head of the table. "You haven't had a meal in ages."  "I've eaten..."  "Yes, but you haven't had a meal,"  Nadia  says softly. "This is for you to enjoy."  "I - I- don't even know what to say," Jenari whispers. "Thank you."  "Nobody ever appreciates you. They just ask for more," Felix says. "There's nothing you need to say. Just let us take care of you."  Jenari nods, wiping her eyes with one shaking hand. 

"Eat. Enjoy," Diab Duin says. "Thank you, Jedi. No. Thank you, Jen."  "To Jen," Felix nods, lifting his glass in a toast.  And Jenari does. As the ship speeds through hyperspace toward Manaan and relaxation, she sits back and relaxes for the first time in...years. She raises a glass of Naboo wine and toasts her friends, savoring the sweetness. 

[sighmurderbot]

Irish Coffee Chapter One

Title: Mocha, Extra Sugar

Chapter Rating/Warnings: T for profanity, no other warnings

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: They meet over coffee and Kierkegaard. There was a spark in his honey-brown eyes that drew her to him. There was a sadness behind her bright smile that drew him to her. Spencer Reid/Original Female Character. Slow burn coffee shop meet. Strangers to friends to lovers. This fic is also available on AO3, it’s ahead of tumblr currently!

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“A 'first meeting' is, by definition, a one-time opportunity, and there's no going back.”

Cup, counter, look up, smile, call out drink, next customer.

“One cafe latte!” 

I looked up with a bright smile even though my feet were aching in my non-slip shoes. Thankfully it was near the end of the afternoon rush, and I should be able to go on break after finishing with the last customer in line.

The businessman in front of me hadn’t stopped talking on his bluetooth the entire time he was here, which made it annoyingly difficult to take his order. Without looking, he grabbed at his coffee. His hand glanced off the cup and I watched it topple in slow motion. The lid flew off and hot coffee sprayed over the whole counter.

Both the businessman and I jumped back, avoiding the scalding liquid.

“Ah, shit — one second Dave,” the man scowled. “What the hell?”

I fixed a smile on my face.

“I’m so sorry about that, sir, let me make you another.”

“No, no,” he looked at his watch and his scowl deepened. “Forget about it. I won’t be coming back!”

Oh no, whatever will we do without your business, I thought sarcastically, maintaining a perfectly happy expression.

With that he turned and hurried out the door, jostling the man waiting behind him. I crouched to grab a towel and somewhere above me he said something, but the words blended with the music floating through the shop. 

“What did you say?” I asked as I looked up, hoping I’d be able to discern what he said. I couldn’t help but smile as my breath caught in my throat. The man standing at my counter must not have been too much older than me. His hair was long enough to brush past the nape of his neck but he had the soft brown curls tucked neatly behind his ears. He flicked his tongue over his bottom lip and gave me a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He wore a cardigan over a dress shirt and tie, and a brown crossbody bag gave his hands something to fiddle with.

“Ah, I just said he wasn’t having a very good day,” he said, blinking a few times as his eyes slipped over the counter. He seemed to notice everything at once, and I hoped he didn’t think anything of the way my gaze flicked to his lips as he spoke before I met his eyes again. He had a cute cupid’s bow, and as someone who sees a lot of lips I feel qualified in saying they were nice lips.

I used the counter to help me to my feet and began to mop up the coffee.

“Apparently not,” I said, taking care to not accidentally push any coffee towards the customer. “Sorry about that, what can I get you, sir?”

I paused and looked up while he spoke, leaning on my lip reading as the music muddied his voice. “A large mocha please,” he said, shifting a little as if he were nervous. “And could you stir some extra sugar into it while it’s hot? The, uh, the extra heat helps the sugar dissolve so there’s no little granules at the bottom.”

Huh, I didn’t know that.

“Sure thing, sugar,” I replied with a bright smile, happy to learn something new and relieved to have a pleasant customer after an hour of government drones rushing in and out as fast as possible. I turned and began the drink, glancing back as I waited for the milk to heat. The man had ducked his head, reading a slim book while he waited. His free finger ran down the page and he muttered to himself as he flipped page after page. 

He probably read a whole chapter in the time it took me to make his drink!

I couldn’t help but let my admiration show a little as I set said drink in front of him. 

“One mocha, extra sugar,” I said as he looked up. I leaned my elbows on the counter.

“Whatchya reading?”

He blinked a few times, glancing down at the book as if he had forgotten he was holding it. 

“Oh, uh, it’s Sygdommen til Døden, it’s a book of Christian existentialism by Søren Kierkegaard. It presents the question that death isn’t the end, and true death is spiritual, not physical,” he rattled off in an instant. I stumbled over a few of the foreign words, but I was able to put the sentence together with context.

The man stopped speaking just as quickly, a light pink spreading over his cheeks as he ducked his head. Leaning over the counter, I stole a peek at the pages he had been tearing through.

“Kierkegaard, in the original Danish too! Impressive,” I said, returning to my side of the counter. “Are you a philosophy student?”

He nodded, almost unsurely. “Yeah, I’m working on my BA now.”

I grinned at him. A fellow academic, I could appreciate a kindred spirit. 

“I haven’t made it to Kierkegaard yet,” I admitted, shrugging one shoulder. “Still working through Plato and Hegel.”

He seemed to perk up a little, eyes sparkling. “They’re good!” he exclaimed. “Hegel’s theory of dialectics strongly influenced the work of Karl Marx. Because Hegel claimed that reality should be examined by a series of logical and rational arguments, Marx created the theory we now know as historical materialism,” he caught himself and the pink on his cheeks deepend to red. “...sorry, I ramble sometimes. Are you a philosophy student as well...” he glanced at the nametag pinned to my apron, “Katie?”

I pursed my lips in what I hoped passed for a smile and not a pained grimace, avoiding his eyes to wipe a few stray drops of coffee away. This man’s gaze made me feel like he could see everything about me with just a glance, but it helped that his soft brown eyes held no malice that I could see. That and the fact that he seemed more nervous around me than anything.

“Nope!” I forced some cheerfulness into my voice. “Not yet, at least.”

He opened his mouth a little, as if he was about to reply, when his attention was suddenly drawn away. Shifting his book he pulled a phone out of his pocket, flipped it up, and answered.

“Reid,” he said. I turned the name around in my mind. I wondered how he spelled it, ei or ee. 

He pinned the phone between his shoulder and ear, stuffing Sygdommen til Døden into his bag and picking up his coffee.

Sorry he mouthed to me, and he did look apologetic. Hoping he knew not to worry about it I gave him a big smile and watched as he hurried out the door, returning the phone to his hand and striding off down the sidewalk. I let out a wistful sigh and grabbed a cleaning spray and paper towels to go over the counter again. If only everyone who came through this coffee shop’s doors was as interesting and pleasant as that Reid. 

And as easy on the eyes, I thought, biting my lip to hold back a girlish giggle. 

I glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite the counter. Just a few more hours until closing, then a quick bus ride to the diner. Everyone in the cafe was taken care of, so I gave myself a few minutes to get off my feet.

Pulling my phone out of my apron pocket I opened my bank account.

Starting to pull ahead, I thought with a tired relief. I wouldn’t be quitting any time soon, but my savings account was finally starting to look a little healthier. I closed out of the app and stared at my background.

It was a picture of my mother and I. I couldn’t have been older than 6 or 7, and I was wearing the biggest smile a little kid could manage. My mother was holding my hand, her smile matching mine. Behind us rose the stairs and columns of the National Gallery in London. I traced my mother’s face for a moment, then shut my phone off and slipped it back into my pocket.

The hands of the clock moved slowly for the rest of my shift. People drifted in and out, none staying longer than a few moments. The sun fell behind DC’s towering skyline, and as the sunlight disappeared it felt like my energy went with it. By the time the last customer waved goodbye and I wiped the last table down the room was swaying around me. I glanced at my watch.

Ten hours since breakfast, medication is beginning to wear off.

I slid out a seat and took a few deep breaths. My stomach wasn’t pleased but it settled after a minute off my feet. Once the room was steady again I stood and finished closing the shop. As the lock clicked into place behind me I felt a wave of exhaustion wash over me. It felt like being battered by ocean waves. 

My feet carried me to the street corner and I slumped against the sign indicating the bus stop. 

I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, I thought, stifling a yawn. 

The bus pulled up and stopped with a screech of brakes that instantly had me clinging to the signpost in pain. The cold, dirty metal cutting into my hand had nothing on the high-pitched scream that bounced around my head, multiplying and hitting the inside of my skull harder and harder. Biting my tongue to stop from crying out, I pushed off the sign and stumbled onto the bus. Over the ringing in my ears I heard a muffled voice saying something. It was as if the voice was speaking to me underwater.

“I-I’m sorry…” I stuttered, forcing myself to breathe. Hands shaking, I fumbled through my bag and pulled out my wallet, finding my bus card. I shoved it in the direction of the driver, who only gave it a cursory glance and waved it away.

“--- --- --kay?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few more deep breaths, the painful ringing dying down to an aching headache, and looked up at the driver. Somehow I had ended up slumped on the floor by the door. The old bus driver was leaning over me, concern etched in the deep wrinkles across his face.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, Connie,” I said, tripping over myself to apologize and get up off the filthy floor. 

“Hey, that’s alright Katie,” he replied kindly, offering me a hand which I gratefully accepted. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” I sighed deeply, brushing my hands off on my jeans. “It was-”

“The breaks, right?”

“Yup.” I popped my ‘p’, shaking my head sadly as I returned my bus card to my wallet. “Still figuring out how to manage it all.”

“You’ll get there,” he replied, setting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I gave him a weak smile and moved to a seat while he closed the door and released the breaks, pulling out into the road. There weren’t many people on the bus, all the commuters had gone home already in an attempt to beat the very traffic they created. The only people left in DC as stars began to blink to life in the sky were those who called the city home.

As the bus rumbled away around me I let myself slump into the seat, chin dropping to my chest and eyelids closing. Before I knew it I had slipped into a shallow sleep.

—

A gentle hand pushing my shoulder roused me and I started awake to see Connie’s face once again.

“Hey kiddo, you fell asleep,” he said. I stretched out my cramped muscles.

“Thanks for waking me up,” I replied. “I owe you.”

He shook his head with a smile.

“Just get me one of those coffees you make and we’ll be even.”

I nodded.

“You got it.”

Connie slid back into his seat and gave me a two-fingered salute, which I returned as I disembarked. Then the bus pulled away and left nothing but the crisp fall breeze, scented with exhaust and that peculiar smell every big city has. Adjusting the strap of my purse on my shoulder, I walked the half-block to a neon-rimmed 24/7 diner. 

A few moments later I stepped into the syrup-steeped diner. 

“Katie! Boy am I glad to see you.” A woman a bit older than me bustled out of the kitchen, arms loaded down with plates piled with pancakes.

“Right back atchya Liz!” I grinned, my exhaustion temporarily lessened at the appearance of a friend.

“Busy night?” I asked when we had both made it to the back room. 

“Very,” Liz exhaled, pushing a few strands of silky black hair away from her face. “It’s started to calm down a little now, mostly just regulars and some college students from the U.”

“That shouldn’t be too bad then,” I replied, slowly standing and stretching my arms above my head. “I’d better get out there.”

Liz shook her head with a smirk. “Girl, you work too hard.”

I gave her a tired grin. “Without labor, nothing prospers.”

She rolled her eyes goodnaturedly. 

“This another one of your old philosophy dudes?”

“Nah, this one’s an old playwright dude.”

“You and your old dudes, when are you gonna take interest in a guy from this century?”

My thoughts flickered to the cute guy from the coffee shop, with his beautiful curls and Danish Kierkegaard book, but it was my turn to shake my head.

“Why bother?” I joked. “Who’d take interest in me anyways? Not like I have time for anyone.”

“Without labor, nothing prospers,” Liz repeated back to me. 

I touched my nose and pointed to her.

“Damn right.”

“Alright, alright,” she conceded. “Let’s get our labor on.”

With Liz by my side the first hour of my shift passed quickly, but then ten o’clock came and she bid me goodbye, filtering out with the rest of the regulars. Before long it was just the college kids gathered at two tables in the back corner, heads bent over textbooks and notes. As long as I kept the coffee and snacks coming they were happy and quiet, which was fine by me.

Around 2 am one of the students came up to the counter, asking for more fruit.

“What’re you guys studying?” I asked as I handed over the pre-prepared fruit cup and accepted her cash.

“Architecture,” she replied, and her attempt at a smile looked almost as tired as I felt. 

“Keep at it,” I said, slipping another fruit cup to her with a wink. She nodded gratefully and returned to the tables, passing the extra fruit to the boy next to her.

Finally the clock ticked over to 3 am and my replacement arrived. There was little more I could do than give him a tired wave as I gathered my things and wrapped up in an old coat, preparing myself for the cold night. 

Thank goodness my apartment is only a few blocks away, I thought, taking a bracing lungful of air. It was a path I was familiar with after two years of walking it almost every night, and a good thing too, because I was half asleep on my feet. I don’t even remember most of the walk, dozing as I was, and by the time I got to my blue apartment door it was all I could do to get my key in the lock and inside. Locking the door behind me I let my purse slip to the floor and took the five steps to my bed, collapsing on top of the blankets. With my last ounce of energy I fished my hearing aid out of my ear, setting it carefully on my bedside table.

“I did it, mom,” I mumbled into my pillow, fingertips brushing the silver photo frame beside my hearing aid.

“Another day done.”

And with that, I slipped into a deep sleep.

Hours later my alarm rang. I woke up, never feeling rested enough but determined to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I felt grimy after falling asleep in my work clothes, so I treated myself to a long shower, luxuriating in the steam billowing up around me. After I scrubbed myself clean I spent a few extra minutes soaking in the hot water. My aching muscles relaxed a little and I felt a bit better when I stepped out and wrapped myself in a towel. After drying and dressing I slipped my hearing aid in and squared my shoulder, ready to face the day.

And so time went on. It was three days before I saw Reid again.

[crowleyellestair]

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Thank you Anon for requsting! Requests are open!

Slow burn fluff

I sat on the small cot in Din’s quarters, looking down at the small child. He was giggling as I balanced the small metallic ball on my finger. I acted like it was hard, but the hole it had to screw onto the lever it was supposed to be attached to acted as a great sticking point. He started making grab hands to me, so I smiled back and ended my charade. Scooping him up, I hand the ball to him.

“This is a ball.” I told the boy as I pointed to the subject of my statement. Din had mentioned that the babe was supposedly fifty years old, but neither of us really knew what the boy knew. He is held back by chirps, coo’s and gargles, so maybe pointing things out could help. I hear footsteps descending the ladder, easily drawing my attention.

“We landed.” The Mandalorian stated while looking at the kid in my arms. I stand, closing the space between us, offering him the boy to hold. Din won’t admit it out loud, but I could tell he loved to hold him. He grabbed the boy, looking to me. “I am going to scout for the nearest village. Is there anything you need if it proves safe?” I scoff as I grabbed the bag I snatched from the last planet. It had some loose credits and a cushion I installed so that when the baby gets tired, he can be carried without drawing attention.

“I can grab it myself.” Din sidestepped me to place his kid onto the cot.

“No. I’ll go alone.” My heart starts to pound.

The mysterious Mandalorian and I had known each other for a long time. We would work jobs together before the boy was brought into the picture. I left the Guild a couple cycles back because of a stupid crush I developed. I had spent weeks pinning after him, realizing that it could never be. I would never dream of questioning The Way, and I wouldn’t want to push to change him. This is his life, and it was better to leave then to wallow it what could never be.

We were close enough to be on a real name basis and I was trusted to be his only messenger. If it had ever come to pass that he was taken out, I was given the location of the other Mandalorians to deliver the news and Beskar for the reserves.

Word had quickly gotten out that there was a price on Din’s head, so I rushed back to the guild for a tracker. Being with him for so long before I left, I knew which planet he deemed safer than most, and decided to check there first. I quickly found him and decided to help out, knowing he wouldn’t be completely equipped to take care of a child.

A cauterizer doesn’t fix everything.

The reason why his statement hurt so much was the sense of change. Even after I easily stepped back onto the Razor Crest, I was welcomed with open arms and I helped on jobs. Recently however, I’ve been ship bound.

“That’s not happening.” I picked the boy off the cot and starred into his visor. I will not be here for the third time.

“You are staying on the ship,” he stated as he placed the boy back onto the bed. The voice manipulator did well to hide his emotion, but I could tell there was an edge to his tone. Huffing, I grabbed the child.

“I will stay on the ship when you tell me why you don’t trust me going out anymore. I know for a fact that it’s not because of the kid. Out of the two of us, he’s safer with you.” I knew I wasn’t going to get a reply, so I started to the door.

Pointing to the ship, I say home to the child. I waved, and my heart started to melt as he mimicked me. I laugh and try to teach,

“Goodbye home.” The kid just gurgled, and we turn to find Din looking at us with a tilted head. “I honestly have no idea if this has an effect on him or not.” I start walking past him, setting a direction to start us off.

We walked for a good hour, finding a lively marketplace. Everyone around us seemed cheerful and friendly. All of the kiosks were inviting, and the shops had doors and windows propped open. We ventured down the market, scouting everything out until eventually Din finally stopped us.

“I’ll find a job. Stay close to the town and meet back here in thirty minutes.” Before I had time to get a word in, he turned and started marching down the way. An ache started to make itself known again but the bundle of joy in my arms started to reach for the man. I started to wave and stated,

“Goodbye Dad.” The babe started to wave too, and I turned on my heel. “Where do you wanna explore first, buddy?” He randomly pointed and we started to trek to the shop. Bright banners flooded out of the shop’s window because of the breeze, giving an indicator as to why he chose it. Looking around it was easy to tell he won’t have as much fun as he was hoping. Books covered the shelves and a smile spread across my face. I wasn’t one for children, but I did aspire to read to the boy. We spent most of our time, trying to negotiate what book we should get. Not knowing if he wanted a book or not was a harder task that originally anticipated. After checking out, I started to trek back, but someone grabbed my shoulder the second we stepped out of the hop. Whipping around, I try to hide the kid behind my back and get into a defensive stance before I notice my reflection starting back at me. Din always found time to make sure his armor was presentable. I sigh in relief, but it’s quickly turned into an annoyed sigh as he points out,

“It has been an hour. I thought we agreed to meet thirty minutes ago.” I brought the boy back around to show the newly purchased item that he held.

“We got a book.”

“That doesn’t take an hour.”

“It does when you’re were picking a bedtime story. It has to be long enough to last, bearable to read, and seemingly exciting for him.” A faint sigh can be heard from him. He seems tense, but loosens just the slightest. The kid made a little ‘a’ noise while reaching for Din. I pass him the kid, but he now seems off.

“We need to head back,” he states as he turns on his heel and starts to walk back. After a while of silence, I decide to speak up.

“Are you okay?” He doesn’t reply, giving me the need to clarify. “It’s just- you’re on edge now- and I didn’t really mean to accuse you of not trusting me earlier. And anything could have happened in that hour. I honestly didn’t mean to lose track of time- “

“I do trust you.”

“No, I know… I trust you too- with my life, in fact.”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” I stop walking for a second, trying to process what he said, though he kept walking.

“I can easily take care of myself.”

“But you’d be safer on the ship.”

“I know the kid is a new responsibility which means a more cautious way, but I would lay down my life for the kid too- “

“You’re not understanding.” I was stunned into silence and slowed my pace yet keeping up. What don’t I understand about safety? Din has put a lot of trust in me over the past cycles, but I haven’t noticed anything that could allude to him having feelings for me. Trusting someone in things like what he’s confided in me do take a lot of care, but everyone needs someone to rely on.

We walk the rest of the way back to the ship in silence, him focusing on our surrounds as I try and figure out what I apparently ‘don’t understand’. I make quick work of matching pace to lean into the child.

“We’re home, bud.” He smiled up at me, and I trek faster to open the ramp for my companions. Din puts the boy down and goes to his locker. “Going out right away?”

“It’s a petty job that I’ll admit is being over rewarded.” I hummed in response. I feel a tug at my pants, but I get distracted by footsteps going back down the ramp. I quickly lean down to the boy and say,

“Say goodbye to Dad.” He starts waddling to the ramp and when I turn to look, Din was already standing still at the base of the walkway, looking at us. I shouldn’t feel flustered, but I can’t tell if he heard me or not. I don’t think I could ever cross a line with Din, but I feel like calling him ‘dad’ could be one I don’t know about. Knowing full well his childhood, being called a parent could easily put hi on edge. Would he want to be known as a parent considering what happened to his? And maybe a public display of affection could put us all more at risk. But we aren’t in public, and there is no denying that he is the child’s ‘dad’.

The child raises his arm at Din, and he nods in response. The door closes and I huff. Towards the end of my previous stay, I learned to live in the dark. I started to feel bad for being in his space, as it meant he was now confined to his helmet more than usual. I learned every inch of the ship as to be able to turn off the light, but still be comfortable and allow Din to be comfortable as well. I would frequently apologize for the trouble of being in the dark all the time. He would brush it off, but in all honesty, it was an easy excuse to hear is voice without his helmet. It was a sound I quickly tried to memorize in case something was to happen like him not coming back from a job or…. Me leaving. Only one instance in that time did I question our platonic relationship. It had been freezing, and we decided to share the cot to keep warm. Nothing happened, but we laid there for hours in each other’s arms. I know he cares for the boy, but me leaving could have destroyed and soiled a lifestyle like that. There’s no way he could care for me on the same questionable level as he did back then.

After a while of playing soft catch and hide-n-seek, the baby started to get tired. I placed him on the cot and cracked open the book. Words were their own, but after a chapter or two, they started to blend. My mind started to frequently focus on Din, and luckily the kid fell asleep. I closed the book and started to make soup. I can’t really speculate as to when he’s be back, but I made two portions. I quickly flicked the light off just out of habit I picked back up quickly after falling into memories of our past. He wouldn’t like it, but Din isn’t here, so I slowly start making my way to the cockpit with soup in hand. We had landed under a mountain ridge, so no light peaked through, even from the stars from the prominent night sky. Hearing the door open, I grab my blaster from my holster and curl upside-down to aim at the intruder. I could distinguish the familiar silhouette against the floor and raise back up.

“I made soup.” I could hear clothes and metal being shuffled and soft footsteps up the ladder. Din plopped himself into the chair to my right, and I swivel to face him. I could make anything out, but I’m still used to that aspect. I can at least tell the movement of a bowl being brought to his face. There was a pause in all movement for too long. “How did it go?”

“Fine.” I can’t help but relax at the sound of his voice. I’m admittedly addicted to the unfiltered emotion and the sound of his raw voice. A minute passed and he surprised me with his question. “Were you able to read to him?”

“Y-yeah. I got pretty far. I hope he liked it.”

“What was it about.” I honestly had to think about what I read not even an hour ago.

“I don’t know… I’m sorry.” It was his turn to pause.

“For what?”

“Leaving.” He didn’t answer but I didn’t want to explain. “I regret leaving. I have since the second I walked off the ship, but I couldn’t stay.” He surprisingly scoffed.

“Why couldn’t you stay?”

“Because I care about you too, Din. But more than what you were implying earlier. I care too much and I didn’t want to cross lines or ruin what we had forever.”

“That is what I meant earlier.”

“What?”

“I care about you, y/n. More than I should. I don’t take my armor off around you just because of trust.”

“I’m talking about loving you, Din. Not just caring about your wellbeing and company.”

“That’s what I’m also talking about.”

Oh

“Sooooo… What you’re saying is- “A distressed yet relieved sigh can be heard from him.

“I love you, y/n. I’ve never stopped.” I can’t believe this is happening. Every waking moment of being away from him was consumed by thinking of him. Looking back now, I can maybe pinpoint moments where he did, in fact, show affection- in his own way, of course. I quickly stand and close the distance between us, but quickly stop.

“Can I- would it be okay if- “I could hear the bowl click against the ground and I could feel his hands grasp the back of my neck. I’m brought closer to his face until our lips meet. My hands hesitate to curl into his hair, but find purchase in it. His lips were surprisingly plump. It seems as though they’ve never been split or chapped. It’s a little awkward, as he seems to not know what to do. Taking the lead, we start to have a small movement and purpose to the kiss. A small dance, if you will. Nothing could end this magical moment except for the new thing touching the back of my leg. I jump to the side and I notice Din tense through our touching legs. I bend down and feel the familiar hair of the small boy, and I start to laugh.

“I guess he’s up now.” Din breathlessly laughs when he realizes why I aggressively left the home of his lips. I can feel Din’s arms wrap around my waist as I yawn. I don’t remember ever feeling fatigue, but I also have the immense urge to sleep. He grabs the boy and quietly suggests,

“You should sleep.”

“You should too.” I didn’t mean for it to come out as quickly as it did. He has the same breathless laugh as before.

“I feel fine. I’ll watch him and join you later.”

“Ok.” I lean down with the intention of kissing his forehead, but lands on his nose. Before I pull away from the quick peck, he shifts to match his lips to mine. I could feel him smiling an I return it. Pulling away, I quickly make my way down to the cot. Usually we take turns, but it seems we’ll be truly sharing it from now on.

I could tell it was meant to be heard, confirming what I foolishly dreaded earlier. Smiling, I laid down, replaying what was just uttered before I fall asleep.

“Did you have a fun day with your mother?”

[artificialqueens]

Off Limits, Chapter 4 (Bitney/Adorney) - Veronica/Albatross

A/N: Hey guys! This is the companion story to “No Strings Attached.” Both ships are in both stories, but generally, “No Strings Attached” is Willaska-focused and this one is Bitney-focused. (Link to all chapters in order.)

Chapter Summary: A girls’ night at the local gay club just might change everything. With Special Guest Star Adore Delano.

(Special thanks to the wonderful @opalescent-cheetah and her dad for being our Australian slang consultants. XOXO!)

***

Courtney really couldn’t figure out why she was so anxious. She hung out with gay people every day. Why was a gay bar so intimidating, so much that her stomach was in knots? She supposed the idea of looking or feeling out of place was a bit disconcerting, as she’d explained to Willam earlier when they were getting ready, before Willam had tossed a dress at her face and ordered her to calm down. Now, she sat squished between Willam and Alaska in the back of the uber, leg bouncing nervously until Willam gave her thigh a pinch.

But once they got there, her nerves settled almost immediately. It was a lively, crowded club—flashing lights and thumping bass, people packed onto the dance floor. Easy to blend in; nothing to be afraid of.

And then, to her delight, a live band took the stage. (Bianca and Willam, on the other hand, weren’t so happy about that, groaning and taking the opportunity to get drinks for the group.)

The lead singer was amazing. A sultry voice, with full lips and hazel eyes, dark hair dyed a vivid emerald green. Even her name was sexy. Adore.

Courtney was enchanted, watching in breathless excitement throughout her whole first set, barely noticing when Willam slipped a drink into her hand. When they paused for a break, she turned to the others, eyes wide.

“Omigod, she was amazing! Wasn’t she amazing?” Courtney gushed.

“Yeah, she was really good,” Alaska agreed, an amused look on her face.

“We should find out if they play here often!” Courtney continued. “I mean, she’s totally worth coming back for, right? I mean they. The whole band.”

Courtney barely had time to blush at that, turning back to the stage to wait in anticipation for the next set, pretending that she didn’t notice Willam and Bianca rolling their eyes like slot machines. If they wanted to be killjoys, that was fine. Courtney was still going to enjoy the music.

The band did another short set—too short, if you asked Courtney, who felt like Adore’s eyes were boring right into her soul at one point. She watched her, absolutely transfixed, letting Adore’s smoky voice wash over her in tingling waves. When they were done, Courtney cheered loudly as Adore gave an awkward little bow. She was incredibly talented, but clearly a little insecure, and it made Courtney’s heart go soft and fluttery.

“Finally,” Willam said, as the DJ took over again. “Now we can dance!”

She dragged the girls into the dance floor, and they followed, laughing. After a song or two (honestly, Courtney couldn’t keep track—unlike Adore’s band, all the thumping house music sounded the same to her), she noticed that Bianca had slipped away, probably to get a drink. She decided to go and join her at the bar, get another drink herself.

But as she made her way towards the bar, she saw that Bianca hadn’t made it that far. She stood at a cocktail table, just past the dance floor. She was in the midst of what seemed like a riveting conversation with an unfamiliar girl. A busty redhead in a flower crown, leaning in with a hand on Bianca’s arm. Whatever she whispered was apparently hilarious, because Bianca burst out laughing.

Courtney wrinkled her nose, feeling a bit offended. They were supposed to be having a fun night out together. Girl bonding and all that nonsense. So why Bianca decided to chat up this random girl was beyond her. She kept walking to the bar, sure that Bianca hadn’t even noticed her. Not when she had such a clearly experienced girl in front of her, Courtney thought bitterly.

As she tried to wedge her way through the crowd to get the bartender’s attention, Courtney felt her heart stall for just a moment when she spotted Adore at the opposite end of the counter, ordering a drink of her own.

It was only when Adore’s eyes shifted in her direction that she became all too aware that she was staring. Shell-shocked, she couldn’t bring herself to look away. She was certain she had a deer-in-headlights expression on her face but her body felt paralyzed, unable to even form a small smile, just something to make her seem like less of a total creeper.

A knowing smirk appeared on Adore’s perfect red lips and soon a little wink was sent Courtney’s way.

She cast her eyes down in embarrassment, pretending to be deeply interested in the grain of the wood on the bar, when by some miraculous chance, the bartender turned her way.

“What can I get you, sis?”

“Oh, uh...gin and tonic with lime?”

He nodded, and only then did Courtney realize that the arm sliding in beside her belonged to Adore, the chipped black nail polish and fingerless gloves a dead giveaway. She looked up, meeting her piercing hazel eyes and this time, managing a small smile.

“Hey,” Adore said.

“Hi,” Courtney replied breathlessly. “You were amazing tonight. I wasn’t expecting-um, to see such a great performance. I know these places usually just use DJs all the time. But it was really so good...”

Realizing that she was babbling, Courtney clamped her mouth shut.

“Are you British?” Adore asked, head tilted.

“No, Australian.”

“Ahh. I love girls with accents,” Adore remarked, taking a swig of her beer.

“I mean, technically, we all have accents,” Courtney couldn’t help correcting, cringing inwardly at how basic and bratty she must have sounded.

But Adore simply laughed, a throaty laugh that Courtney found lovely. Once again, the bartender had perfect timing, sliding her drink over to her. A welcome distraction from her awkward babbling. She pulled a card from her little purse, but Adore stopped her, covering Courtney’s hand with her own.

“Put her drink on my tab,” Adore told him, and Courtney was grateful for the dim lighting that masked her hot red cheeks.

“Thanks,” she said softly, barely audible over the pounding music.

“Don’t worry about it, cutie,” Adore assured as she leaned in with an inviting smile on her lips, “Just tell me your name and we’ll call it even.”

A sense of familiarity washed over Courtney as she vaguely recalled the number of times men had tried similar lines with her. Back then it always felt cliché or just mildly pathetic yet when those words fell from Adore’s lips? Plump, cherry-red lips that Courtney couldn’t keep her eyes off of?

It was strangely appealing this time around.

“Courtney.”

“Courtney,” Adore repeated, imitating her accent, lips curling around the syllables in a way that made Courtney shiver. “Do you like shots, Courtney?”

“Mmm...when they’re sweet?”

Adore grinned again, ordering two lemon drops. While the bartender got to work, Adore draped an arm across Courtney’s shoulders.

“So...I haven’t seen you here before. Are you new to the area?”

“No, I’ve lived here for a couple of years,” Courtney told her, adding coyly, “It’s just...my first time here. Tonight.”

“Mmm.” Adore handed her a shot, toasting her gently. “To first times.”

“Cheers.”

They tossed back the shots, giggling.

“So, uh, I have a confession to make,” Adore said.

Courtney turned toward her curiously, causing her arm to slide off her shoulders. But instead of removing it all the way, Adore merely adjusted, fingers sliding across her shoulder blades, making her shiver.

“When I was singing...I uh, kind of noticed you.”

“You did?” Courtney’s eyes grew, the idea of Adore picking her out of the crowd giving her a thrill.

“Yeah. Couldn’t you tell? I was singing right to you.”

“I assumed everyone thought you were singing to them,” Courtney said, twirling a lock of hair in her hand as Adore slowly shook her head. “Well...I’m flattered.”  

Mustering up every bit of false bravado she could, Courtney offered a confident smile, practically daring Adore to make another move. Time seemed to slow down as Adore put one finger under her chin, tilting her face up, then leaning in, eyes falling shut…

***

What the fuck was she doing?

Bianca spotted her immediately from across the bar. Flirting with that random green-haired singer, the one with the stupid name...Adore...gazing up at her as if she was the best thing since sliced fucking bread. It was strangely unsettling, seeing her act that way, and Bianca wondered how much she’d had to drink. Better keep an eye on her...just to make sure she’s okay.

She was about halfway through her own drink when she chanced to look away for just a moment to see if her other roommates could be spotted somewhere in the mass of people still crowding the dance floor. Failing that, she turned her attention back to Courtney to find Adore tilting her chin up and hovering only an inch or two above her lips.

Bianca damn near marched herself right over but in less than a second, Courtney closed that gap herself and almost instantly the pair was making out at the bar for everyone to see. Her jaw actually dropped at the sight and not too far behind it, so did her stomach.

It was awful watching Courtney kiss someone else, even worse knowing that Courtney had initiated it herself and Bianca was left to watch it all in a helpless, paralyzed state of shock. She couldn’t tear her eyes away for anything, no matter how much she wanted to. No, instead her focus remained zeroed in on Courtney, until, to her sick relief, they finally broke apart.

There was dark red lipstick smudged overtop Courtney’s own light pink but that was only a thin thought in Bianca’s mind. What caught her attention was that glassy, hazy look in Courtney’s eyes. One Bianca had come to recognize as she spent more time in bars in the late hours of the night.

Shit.

Not that Adore seemed to have any qualms about that fact—if she’d even noticed, that is. Even from the distance Bianca kept, she could see that smug smirk on her stupid face, particularly as her head jutted in the direction of the bathrooms.

Courtney’s response was delayed, as if she were trying to figure out what Adore was trying to imply, but to Bianca’s dread there was a distracted nod of the head and soon the two disappeared into the depths of the crowd.

Well, not if Bianca could help it.

Downing the rest of her drink and slapping some money onto the counter, she bolted from the bar and followed after those drunken idiots like a woman on a mission.

***

The thing that struck Courtney about Adore, more than anything, was how normal it felt to be with her. The ritual of a few flirtatious smiles and heated looks, some light touching to feel out the temperature.

She missed this simplicity, she realized. The obvious mutual attraction, the flirting with the intent of pursuit...basking in the simple knowledge that she was wanted.

There was no second-guessing, no wondering if it was just a long-winded joke or worrying that it would be called off in just a minute or two.

It was like returning home after a long vacation and finding everything still in the same place as you left it...it was just...comfortable.

Even kissing her...it felt easy and natural and fun. So when Adore suggested that they move from the bar to a location more private, she’d been delighted to follow her.

In the bathroom, Adore pressed her up against the sink, plush lips kissing her deeply, as if to devour her, wandering hands making Courtney’s heart race with excitement. They were so caught up in one another that they didn’t even notice someone else had entered the room until Bianca quite loudly cleared her throat, heels clacking on the tile floor as she approached.

When Courtney raised her eyes and spotted the intruder, her stomach dropped straight to her feet and she gasped softly. Bianca’s arms were crossed in front of her chest as she glowered deep into Courtney’s soul, filling her with shame. She gulped, fingers untangling from Adore’s messy green waves to wipe her sweaty palms on her sides.

“Hi Bianca,” she said, offering a sheepish smile.

Seemingly unconcerned with the new development, Adore moved her attention from Courtney’s lips down to her neck. Grazing her lips along the skin, there was just a hint of a mocking undertone as she asked, “Girlfriend?”

Feeling her cheeks flush from both Adore’s brazen gesture and the judgemental arching of Bianca’s brow, Courtney was forced to admit as her mouth went dry with embarrassment, “Um, no...roommate.”

“Ah,” Adore murmured between the series of light kisses she’d been placing along the expanse of Courtney’s neck. She was acting rather nonchalant, as if this weren’t the first time she’d been caught in such a situation. In fact, she seemed quite comfortable right now, almost pleased by the turn of events. Nuzzling into Courtney’s neck with her soft cheek, Adore shifted her gaze to Bianca and asked teasingly, “So, you watching or joining?”

Courtney’s laugh was immediate and loud. She was all but cackling at the question but Bianca looked far from amused. Courtney clapped a hand over her mouth as Bianca answered through gritted teeth.

A simple, disgusted, “Neither.”

Brushing off the reaction, Adore resumed marking Courtney’s throat with her lipstick. Her hands, which had been resting on Courtney’s hips, moved down to her thighs, finding the hem of her dress and working their way inside.

Courtney wasn’t sure if the rapid pounding of her heart was from Adore’s fingers, now tracing the edge of her panties, or from Bianca’s continued harsh glare, eyes black as midnight as she spat out, “I think you’ve had enough. Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to go,” Courtney replied, voice sounding small and petulant.

“Courtney…” Bianca’s voice was tense, almost a growl. “I’m just trying to look out for you, okay? You’re drunk. You need to come home.”

“Dude…” Adore turned her head toward Bianca, brow furrowed. “Are you her roommate or her mother?”

Courtney bit the interior of her bottom lip as she tried to think of something to say. Her hands slipped from Adore’s hair and landed on her shoulders, but whether that was for comfort's sake or to push her away, it was hard to say. She felt small and unjustifiably guilty as she remained trapped between Adore’s warm body and Bianca’s harsh, unhappy scowl.

Truth be told, she didn’t feel very drunk at all. Certainly not enough to be escorted home like a child. But something about Bianca trying to protect her, even in the cold and disapproving way she was doing it, softened her desire to be defiant. And wasn’t that what she wanted all along anyway? To spend some quality time with her roommate?

“Well?” Bianca snapped. “Are you coming or not?”

It was her tone, more than anything, that made Courtney’s decision for her. Maybe Courtney was being stupid and irresponsible. But she was also an adult who was having fun, and Bianca had no right to judge her and scold her like that. Hell, her own mum had let her traipse off to a new continent for university without the slightest bit of concern. So why on earth did Bianca think she could intimidate her into cutting a great night short?

“Nah,” Courtney said simply, eyes narrowing slightly as she stared Bianca down. She felt Adore smile into her skin, teeth grazing her neck.

Bianca watched her for a few more moments, expression hard as stone, before turning on her heel with a scoff and storming from the bathroom in a fit of anger.

Courtney turned back to Adore, capturing her lips in a deep, messy kiss, adamant to keep enjoying herself.

But after all that, her heart wasn’t in it anymore. No matter what she did, all she could see were Bianca’s angry eyes flashing in the dim light. Even the sweet taste of Adore’s lip gloss turned bitter in her mouth. She pulled back, struggling to catch her breath, surprised and embarrassed to find tears trickling down her cheeks.

“Shit, are you okay?” Adore asked. She grabbed a bunch of paper towels, running them under the water and handing them over.

“Yeah, I’m sorry.” Courtney sniffled, wiping her eyes. “It’s not you, I don’t know why I’m…”

After studying her for a few moments, Adore ventured softly, “You like her, huh?”

Courtney bit her lip. Was she really gonna admit it, out loud? She’d barely admitted it to herself yet. But in a way, this was probably the safest place to do it. After all, Adore didn’t know her, or Bianca, or any of their friends.

She nodded, whispering, “Yeah.”

Confessing felt better than she thought it would. Cleansing.

“I guess I have for awhile, but I just...I don’t think she feels the same way.”

Adore laughed at that. Almost too hard, and for a second Courtney felt the indignation rising in her chest. Until Adore leveled her gaze back down at Courtney and said definitively, “Yeah, she does. She absolutely does. I would literally bet my mom’s life on it. And like, I love my mom.”

“Why do you...think that?” Courtney asked, a surge of hope running through her.

“Because, she barreled in here like a jealous girlfriend. And that whole thing about you being too drunk? We had one shot. And you had a couple sips of a cocktail. You’re fucking fine.”

Courtney had to admit that Adore had a point. But what about all of the times Bianca had made it clear that she wasn’t interested? Her shoulders slumped.

“I don’t know what to do,” she admitted.

“Look, she’s obviously a bit of an idiot, for making you feel bad and doubt yourself instead of just telling you how she feels. So you’re probably gonna have to be the one to bring it up,” Adore said. “I mean, I assume. Maybe she’s a gigantic idiot who will deny it even after that. Only one way to find out.”

Courtney nodded, still not quite sure that Adore was right. Bianca had spent so much time adamantly stating why she would never want to be with someone like her. Someone inexperienced. And she had to know how Courtney felt. She had to. So if she felt the same way, why would she have done that?

Either way, Courtney knew that her fun in the club was over for the night. She gave Adore a hug and started making her way back through the club, checking the bar, the back room with the pool tables, the booths along the side. She spotted Willam and Alaska on the dance floor, oblivious to the drama, and decided to leave them be. But where was Bianca?

She stepped outside, into the cool night air, pulling out her phone. Only then did she see the brief message in their group text.

B: Tired, on my way home.

Courtney heaved a deep sigh, tears filling her eyes once again. She had no desire to return to the dance floor with Willam and Alaska; in that moment, she felt overwhelmingly alone.

“Hey,” a voice said, and she looked up to find Adore standing behind her, cigarette in hand. “No luck?”

Courtney shook her head, brushing the tears away with the back of her hand.

“Well, I’m about to take off. Do you want a ride?”

“You’re driving?!”

“No! I mean like share my uber. I might be a little drunk, but I’m not a moron.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Courtney smiled.  

In the car, Adore put her number into Courtney’s phone, instructing her to text the next day with a full report.

“So listen...she didn’t seem that stupid to me,” Adore said. “But if it turns out that she’s a huge, giant idiot? Then I owe you lunch.”

“Deal,” Courtney agreed with a laugh, already feeling a bit better about the whole thing.

***

Very softly, just in case Bianca was in fact asleep by now, Courtney pushed open her bedroom door and peered inside. It was dark and Bianca’s form was perfectly visible lying beneath the sheets but it was impossible to tell if she was awake or not. Thinking it best just to leave things alone for now, Courtney started to back away until she heard a gruff, “What?”

“You’re awake?” she asked stupidly.

“Clearly,” Bianca replied, undoubtedly rolling her eyes as she sat up. “What do you want?”

“I...Can we talk for a minute? About the club.”

Bianca was silent for a moment, eyeing Courtney up and down as if searching for something. With each passing second it seemed more and more likely that she’d refuse but to Courtney’s relief, she relented with an unfriendly, “Fine. Make it quick.”

Swallowing back her nerves and clumsily flipping the light switch, Courtney began with an apologetic, “I’m sorry you walked in on that. Probably not what you were-"

“I had an idea,” Bianca interjected with a little huff, “Saw that show of yours at the bar. Everyone saw.”

The tone stung. More than Courtney wanted to admit and more than she allowed to show. But if Bianca’s intent was to get her angry too, she failed. Courtney knew coming into this that she had to stay level-headed and no matter how good it might feel in the moment just to vent out her frustrations and storm off, it’d only end up doing more damage later on. Instead, she took a moment to collect herself, taking in a calming breath to clear her clouding mind and began reproachfully.

“If you knew, why did you-” As the words fell from her mouth something occurred to her. Bianca’s eyes had hardened and her lips pressed into a tense line as she bit back more of what she wanted to say. It was in that moment that everything clicked and Courtney felt a wave of clarity washing over her. “You wanted to interrupt,” she accused.

Her head was spinning with questions but she knew she was right the second Bianca flinched. She was glaring at Courtney, almost as if trying to intimidate her into giving up this line of questioning, but after a short pause, Courtney was shocked to hear a firm confirmation of, “Yes.”

Exasperated, Courtney demanded to know, “Wha-Why?”

There was another delay in response but what exactly for, Courtney could only hazard a guess. Bianca’s glare had yet to lighten as her eyes bore deep into Courtney’s soul. Her voice was cold and nearly emotionless as she stated, “You were drunk.”

“I wasn’t. But I was having fun.”

A flash of something appeared on Bianca’s face but in an instant it was gone. It was too quick for Courtney to recognize what it was but she knew she had seen it. She had to convince Bianca to be honest with her, even if it was uncomfortable.

Slowly crossing the room, clearly not trusting her own shaky legs any more than she had to, Courtney sat on the edge of Bianca’s bed. She ignored the way Bianca leaned away from her as if she didn’t care. She understood all too well by now that this whole act just wasn’t the Bianca she knew. It was just a front for something else and she had to find out what.

“Bianca,” she inquired gently, “Why'd you want to ruin that?”

There was no answer, only a judgemental glare as Bianca remained silent and stared her down. But Courtney refused to let this go. She knew she was close to some kind of answer and nothing was going to deter her from that.

Daring to place her hand over one of Bianca’s, she again asked, “B? Talk to me. You can tell me anything, I promise.”

There was a roll of Bianca’s eyes as she scoffed at the statement. It hurt but not enough to push Courtney away or weaken any of her resolve. All she did was wait patiently, running her thumb against Bianca’s until she got a response. Just some kind of answer to explain Bianca’s behavior.

And finally after a few moments, Bianca relented enough to give an unwilling and rather confusing reply of, “Cause it shouldn't have been like that.”

Tilting her head just slightly, Courtney probed for more of an explanation and it was there that Bianca’s restraint finally ran out.

In one long huff she blurted out, “Okay, fine! You wanna fuck a girl? Go right ahead, I don’t care. Hell, go fuck a hundred girls if that's what you want! But damn it, Courtney...your first time, it shouldn’t be some drunken hookup in the bathroom of a sketchy-ass nightclub. You know that,” she stressed. Her eyes finally grew soft as she admitted, “You deserve better than that, you know?”

Quickly defending herself, Courtney began with, “Well, she offered to-” then thinking better of it, she soon cut herself off. “Um...yeah...I guess I get what you’re saying.”

Darting her eyes away for a moment, Bianca reluctantly added, “I wasn’t sure how much you drank with her...And maybe I misjudged that. But like, I didn't want you regretting it tomorrow morning, okay? You’re not like Willam. This kind of shit means more to you.”

Though she wasn’t sure she agreed with Bianca on everything, she was still touched by the reasoning. Bianca was just trying to look out for her, it seemed. She went about it horribly but the intentions were good. Giving her roommate a grateful smile, she murmured, “Thanks,” and pulled her in for a tight hug.

At first, Bianca froze at the gesture but in just a second, she recovered and returned the embrace. A soft sigh was released into the air but even still, she just couldn’t let herself feel entirely relaxed. She had so many questions left on her mind but none of them she felt comfortable asking...even after this tentative truce.

*

Bianca pulled away from the hug to look into Courtney’s face, one burning question she just had to know.

Without daring to look directly into Courtney’s eyes, she carefully asked, “So...uh...did you two…?”

It took Courtney a second to catch on to Bianca’s train of thought but once she had, she gave a slow shake of her head. Instantly it felt like a weight had dropped from Bianca’s shoulders and she could truly relax. A large part of her felt immense relief at the answer but another small part was beating herself up for it.

Regardless, Bianca wasn’t going to press for any more answers, so she let this particular conversation die with a soft acknowledgment of, “Okay.”

“I couldn’t really have fun after you fucking blew your top,” Courtney said.

“Oh...sorry.” A smile began to grow on Bianca’s lips and the longer she looked at Courtney, the bigger it got.

Seemingly confused by the sudden shift in attitude, Courtney let out a small, laughing, “What?”

“You got some serious clown mouth going on,” Bianca told her, her grin now barely contained, “Looks like you were fucking making out with Pennywise.”

“Shut up!” Courtney squealed, giving her a playful shove to the arm.

Trying her best to keep herself from fully laughing, Bianca slipped out from her bed, shaking her head as she muttered, “Hold on.” She immediately made her towards the bathroom caddy she left on the corner of her desk. After rifling through it for a minute, she found her makeup wipes and returned to Courtney’s side. Holding out the jar with a slight smirk, she teased, “Can't take you seriously with that mess.”

Rolling her eyes, Courtney snatched up the wipes and made quick work of running them over every inch of her ruined makeup. Giving Bianca a patient smile, asked sarcastically, “Better?”

Shaking her head once more, Bianca pulled out a wipe of her own and muttered distractedly, “Fucking Christ. All over your fucking neck, too.”

She leaned in close with it and began gently running the cloth pad over the expanse of Courtney’s skin. She ignored the tense swallow beneath her fingers and focused instead on removing every last bit of cherry red lipstick she could find. The position felt oddly intimate, especially with the way Courtney watched her with curious, considering eyes.

Trying to distract herself and Courtney from this suddenly awkward moment, she commented, “You sure that bitch wasn't trying to suck your blood out or something?”

A snorting laugh ripped through Courtney’s body as she pulled away just slightly. Finishing her work, Bianca stepped back and moved to discard the soiled wipes. When she turned around from the trash can, she found Courtney spread out across most of her bed and damn near cuddling into the sheets.

She looked to be enjoying herself, at least, as she all but rolled around and wrapped herself up in the bedding. Noticing Bianca’s amused grin and arched brow, Courtney defended herself with a sincere, “Your bed’s really comfy.”

“It’s the same hand-me-down mattress you have, Court,” she pointed out, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

Courtney’s smile stretched just a little wider as she relented with a dreamy, “Your sheets, then, dingus...They’re soft and silky.”

“I know,” Bianca retorted, poking her roommate lightly in the arm, “That’s why I got them.”

Ignoring the feeble attempt to annoy her or get her to move, Courtney simply nuzzled further into the sheets and affirmed sleepily, “Comfy.”

“Oh, my God,” Bianca muttered in an amused state of disbelief. She could see she wasn’t winning this without a fight and far too tired for any of that, she merely gave in and asked, “You want to sleep here tonight?”

Courtney tilted her face up towards Bianca, catching her gaze with heavy-lidded eyes and saying softly, “Is that okay? You’re not still mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad. But...you’re gonna sleep in that?” Bianca inquired skeptically, gesturing to Courtney’s dress.

There was a half-hearted shrug of the shoulders but ultimately Courtney seemed unbothered at the prospect of sleeping in the skimpy sequined number she had borrowed from Willam. Rolling her eyes once more, Bianca withdrew from the bed in order to retrieve an oversized, worn-out Mardi Gras T-shirt from her dresser.

Carelessly tossing it onto Courtney’s face, she grumbled, “Here.”

With great effort, Courtney pushed herself into sitting upright just enough to remove the flashy dress, flinging it to the floor to replace it with the T-shirt.

“Want shorts or anything?” Bianca asked quietly, averting her eyes.

“This is fine,” Courtney assured her even as she struggled to keep her eyes open. Holding aside the blankets, she murmured, “Come cuddle.”

Bianca switched off the lights and worked her way between the sheets. She barely had time to properly settle down before a very soft body was pressed up next to hers. Burying her face into the pillow just inches away from Bianca’s neck, Courtney gave a partially muffled reasoning of, “Warmer over here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bianca teased lightly, even as she slipped her arm around Courtney and pulled her in just a little closer. “Come here, you fucking brat.”

Courtney giggled, snuggling against her, lips grazing Bianca’s neck, near her ear, sending a shiver down Bianca’s spine. On purpose? Bianca couldn’t be sure, but she cleared her throat and turned her head away slightly.

“Bianca?” Courtney whispered, breath warm against her, fingers wrapped around her waist.

Bianca should have realized the danger of sleeping intertwined like this. She hesitated for a moment before grunting out, “What?”

“Um…” Courtney giggled again, letting out a sigh, and Bianca relaxed, realizing that her lack of boundaries probably had more to do with residual drunkenness than anything else.

“Goodnight, Court,” she said definitively.

“Night, B,” Courtney whispered.

The night’s exhaustion coupled with alcohol made Bianca fall asleep quickly. Unfortunately, she didn’t stay that way for long. Some time later, she was roused by Alaska stumbling around. Her bedding was bunched up in her hands, just barely visible in the moonlight. Odd, Bianca thought.

“Hey,” she called out into the semi-dark room.

Alaska twitched at the sound of her voice, offering an awkward excuse of, “Hey, uh, sorry, I’m just grabbing some shit and then I’ll get out of here-”

Confused, Bianca shifted around to get a better look at her roommate and inquired, “Why? Where are you going-”

“I mean, you’re obviously in the middle of some-” Alaska hurriedly interjected, sparing a quick glance to Courtney’s oblivious sleeping form.

Of course she had the wrong idea, Bianca quickly realized. Shaking her head, she tried to explain the situation, “No, it’s nothing like that! We were just talking and she fell asleep. You really don’t have to go, my guess is that she’ll be passed out until noon.”

But as Bianca spoke, Courtney began shifting in her sleep. Her arms tightened, unwilling to lose their most comfortable source of heat, and a soft little sigh echoed into Bianca’s ear.

The pair of roommates stared at each for a moment in total silence, until Alaska’s resolve broke and she made her way towards the door. As she slipped past the door frame, Bianca heard her mumbling, “Yeah, it’s cool. I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

She tried calling out for her roommate but it was all in vain. In mere seconds the door was shut again.

“Whatever,” Bianca grumbled, settling back comfortably beneath the sheets. She’d tried to explain; it wasn’t her fault Alaska refused to listen. She’d just have to try again tomorrow and maybe then she’d have some better luck in clearing up whatever misconception still lingered in Alaska’s mind.

[punkandsnacks]

Between Wolves & Doves, Chapter Four; Acquaintances.

Author: @punk-in-docs​ & @adamsnackdriver​

Also on AO3-

Trigger Warnings: Nothing much to trigger in this chapter - just as the title suggests, a swooning moment or two perhaps-

Synopsis: Vampire!Kylo x OC love story. Inspired by BBC’s Dracula. Also inspired by Austen’s Pride & Prejudice.

He’s been stalking this earth long since civilizations can possibly fathom. Before records even began. He sneers at the fact that this pitiful young world has only just begun to see his reign of it.

He’s dined with moguls, emperors, princes. He’s consorted with bloodthirsty ruthless Queens in their courts, and whispered into the ears of powerful King’s, whose names still echo through millennia.

In his myriad of centuries gifted to his immortal self he’s been many many things. He’s been a lowly pauper. A crusading knight. An assassin. A sell sword. A soldier. A wanderer. A simpering suitor and a voracious unyielding lover. Aimlessly lost in time- besieging this earth. Ripping it apart and drinking what’s left.

He was made in the hinterland between snow and dirt and pine trees. Crusted with ash and blood and gouged from battle. Born anew. Sired from the hell-mouth of war. He was made in 789 AD.

He’ll come undone, one bitter winter night, in England, in 1816.

~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

The sky remained hard. Resolutely letting snow sift from the thick great heavens, like icing sugar drifting down. The ground also continued to be frosty hard and scattered with patches of hidden silvery ice.

 No sooner than the sun had risen over the tumbling flat frosty vista of Hampshire hills and frost crusted meadows, than Iris is up, and going about her daily chores all in the life of a gently bred - yet unwed- daughter, of fairly considerable means.

 She takes food parcels to the poor. Calls on sick relatives or companions for tea. Pays calls. Fetched supplies for cook from the butchers or the grocers, or the fishmongers in town.

 When one of the maids is ill, or is suffering a passing heartbreak until the next suitor comes along, Iris is the one to step into the void and fulfil their tasks. She collects the eggs from the chickens at the farm, or makes the ailing girl a hot milk posset or a cup of hot chocolate to cheer them.

 It seemed like every other week their maids, Meg and Julia, seemed to go getting their hearts broken. Some farm hand. Or the boy from the butchers shop. The milliners son, or the strong handsome one who works in the drapers shop. As ever; Iris steps into the fray when - another - devastating crisis comes their way. She helps cook in the kitchen with supper. Or she helps out with idle cleaning around the house. Or see’s to the chores on the farm.

 This morning is no different. Meg took to her bed with an ailing heart of the most acute kind. For the boy she fancies had become engaged to another girl. Iris brings her a cup of chocolate after breakfast and lends her a handkerchief and a shoulder so she can have a good long cry about it.

 So household tasks fall onto her today. Fetching in what cook needed from market for supper. Even though she’d have liked to have spent a morning reading her book, or helping Julia get on top of the household washing. She’s wanted to take down the parlour curtains and give them a good scrub, for weeks now.

 Or today she had ideally wanted to lend Flora and Posy a hand in drying some flowers, and french lavender and roses. For perfumes and bathing oils. They had to use their home grown stock from the gardens carefully. It was a long winter. And the convenience of summer blooms are far off yet. Dried flowers cost a pretty penny up the market.

 Her duties are endless. She’s got calls to pay. Off to the butchers to buy sweet meats and game for the jugged hare cook is making tonight. She needs to buy beeswax candles and salt, and some more soaps.

 And Posy and Flora are allowed to purchase two new ribbons each. They’ll walk into the village with her. No doubt nattering all the way there about what colours they want. And all the way back that they should’ve chosen different ones.

 Iris steps outside in her wintry best and her cracked leather boots. Two pairs of wool stockings this time. Her navy blue wool pelisse over a thick white cotton dress. For good measure, she puts a bonnet on to keep her ears warm, and wraps a gold embroidered shawl around her shoulders.

 Posy and Flora are trussed up as if they’re off to go personally meet the Prince Regent. Flora is in her gold pelisse with her pink dress under. And Posy had her powder blue coat over her mint green dress. They’re both wearing bonnets that they made up themselves. Their hats staggering under the weight of ribbons and cloth and trims and flounces.

 Iris’s was far simpler - No fuss. No trims. A gold straw bonnet with grey ribbon tied under her chin.

 Iris has to chide Posy, when they step out of doors, for forgetting to wear her gloves. She insists she hasn’t a decent pair and slips back into the house to go up to Iris’s room to conveniently borrow her grey rabbit fur lined gloves. Making her elder sister roll her eyes. The plot was clear.

 They had a heavy basket each to carry. Some old granary loaves, soused herring, and some jars of Jam from their kitchens to go to the poor. They’re not even at the end of the drive and Flora is whinging about the weight of her basket. Iris heaves a sigh and grabs it off her.

 She trudges behind them. Both arms carrying heavy baskets.

 Her and Posy link arms, giggling, walking along merrily, animated and discussing last nights ball. Or, more accurately; making sport of the people who’d attended.

 “Did you see that awful Lavender gown Jane Penwell had on?”

 “I thought it suited her very ill indeed.”

 “And did you hear about Lawrence Fisher? Apparently he’s now to be courting Lucy Miller.”

 “I cannot stand her. Last night she was so boastful about the lace trim on her dress. She’s vile. And I haven’t had any new lace on my dress for over a year! Not since last summer. I’m sure she does it deliberately, just to vex me.”

 “You are far prettier than Lucy Miller. She has ten million freckles and no conversation at all. She’s a pale ugly little thing.” Posy’s insisting fiercely to her younger sister.

 Iris is amused by the sheer frailty of their worries.

 “And besides, Mama said she had a letter from Mrs Thornby today, and apparently Lord Ren and Iris were the talk of the ball all night, last eve.” Flora says cheekily.

 Turning over her shoulder to scrutinise her sister with a smug grin that flashes her straight little row of teeth.

 Iris rolled her eyes. Strongly suspecting that as of now, her and Lord Ren would be gossiped about in front parlours for weeks. This was a sleepy country village with little amusement and not much variety to sustain it.

 Mama’s and girls of the Ton would fall on the new shred of tittle-tattle like wolves.

 “He left the ball last night without talking to any other girl, mama said.” Posy explains.

 “The poor man probably didn’t have time enough to get through all the desperate Hampshire girls, eagerly throwing themselves at him to make an acquaintance.” Iris thinks aloud.

 They walk up Westwell’s frosted drive and out onto the snowy lanes that cut through quaint countryside and woods.

 The golden sun is in its early rising, striping ribbons of thick satin gold through the trees. The ruddy browns and ash greys and ochre coppery rusts of the Turner-esque English countryside. Of fields and hedgerows and treetops. The grass is no longer green. It’s a musty white. And that same cloying powder clings onto the dead taupe leaves and branches of every tree. The air is bitter to breathe in.

 Iris takes a deep lungful of it, and its like a chest full of sharp pins. Needling at her lips and her neck. She should’ve thought to employ a wool scarf. As it is she can only tuck her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Tucking the heavy baskets into to dig deeper into her elbows. The frost numbs her feet, and sneaks up her skirts and snatched cruelly at her legs.

 She clenched her numb fingers, scrunching and unscrunching them up in her much too thin gloves.

 Posy and Flora continue their giggling and swapping tidbits of gossip about Lord Ren.

 “You know he didn’t even dance with anyone!”

 “A great sin, I’m sure. Punishable by death.” Iris thinks to herself under her breath.

 “He probably didn’t have time-“ Posy remarks.

 “Or he doesn’t know how.” Flora supposed.

 “A man that lofty, of course he can dance. Maybe he prefers not too.”

 “Maybe he has a false leg, or, or a war wound!”

 Iris rather wishes her ears were purely ornamental by this point.

 Give me a pair of vestigial ears anytime you wish. She idly prays. Turning her eyes skywards.

 “Maybe he’s shy-“ Flora squeaks. Posy clasps her hand over her mouth and laughs so loudly it startles the chaffinches out the trees.

 “I don’t think he can afford to blend into the wallpaper with a stature like that.” Flora grins.

 “His shoulders were twice the width of me.” Posy says dreamily.

 “Did he have soft lips Iris? For you must’ve felt them through your gloves... Were they heavenly?” Flora demands to know. Both sisters walking in step alongside her now.

 She side eyes them. “That is not a proper thing to discuss. And well you know it Flora Jane Ashton.” Iris insists. Concealing her secrets to herself.

 She wasn’t telling her sisters how her whole body burst into shivers popping and skipping up her spine. How his touch made her skin feel like it was dancing of its own accord. Free from her body. She shivered yet she was blushing hot.

 His lips were the softest, sweetest things that had ever come into contact with her body.

 Her whole arm felt dizzy afterwards. It wasn’t possible. But that’s how it felt. Hours after she was still rubbing the patch where his lips had lain on her satin gloves.

 When she got home after the ball, she peeled her glove off and looked at her hand.

 It still looked ordinary. Her skin wasn’t red or marked - but it felt like it should be. It felt as if something utterly astounding had happened to her.

 The memory of his eyes gazing their arrow-striking glare into her own haunted her head all night long. Swam behind her closed eyelids in her sleep. Those opulent piercing eyes.

 “We won’t tell a soul.” Posy promises

 “Oh, look. Here is the Barton’s cottage. Flora pass me the ointment for Mr Barton.” Iris demands.

 Seeing the little boxy cottage coming into view. Roof thick with iced thatch. Walls butter yellow. With fat pink sickly rose vines creeping up the walls. Iris sees the chimney is smoking. They must be home keeping warm on this frigid morning. Acrid woodsmoke from the house drifts across the woods.

 They deliver the ointment into Mrs Barton’s hand. Along with some jam, a loaf, and pickled goods to see them through the wintry cold week. They were a frail elderly couple after all. And Iris likes helping people. She always had. Her mother always insisted she’d been cursed with an unshakable vein of kindness.

 Which often meant as a child she was forever taking in birds wounded falling out their nests in the gardens. Leaving carrots out for the wild rabbits. Seeds for the birds. Feed for the little monk-jack deers. She shared all her dolls as a girl. Forever saw to caring for the people and creatures which surround her. She visits the infirm with medicine. Reads to the lonely old matrons who’d lost all the grandchildren of their own.

 Now she’s grown that inclination hasn’t left her. She likes making sure none of the infirm elderly, or the more impoverished friends of her acquaintance suffer through the bitter cold climes. They never have to struggle alone. Iris is a balm to the hurting. She gives what she can. And is a friend to everyone kind enough to recognise it.

 Before long, the trio of ladies dispense their generosity upon those who need it. Giving what sustenance and leftovers they can spare. It’s not much really- when all is said and done. But it’s helping in any little way possible. And that’s what matters.

 They come eventually into Pembleton high street. The every busy and jagged row of higgledy Tudor houses. Separated by a lane of sticky brown mud where horses hooves and carts churn up the dirt. Carts and stalls line the streets. Modest shopfronts sell their wares. The air is full up of woodsmoke and the scent of roasting nuts from the brazier on the stand nearby.

 Iris loses Posy and Flora very quickly to the haberdashers, where the ribbons hang from great silken trails in racks from the ceiling. Every colour Imaginable.

 She sees them fussing over Belgian lace and leaves them be. She steps into the butchers for Cooks desired hare and sweet meats. She buys the candles, salt and the paper wrapped little cakes of soaps from Mr Milton’s shop next door.

 She crosses the street to the grocers. Fills her basket with green leeks, onions, potatoes and carrots. She tucks everything in her basket, around the poor lamented hare with its fur still on, and covers it with a patterned linen cloth.

 She has a shilling spare- she wanders over to Mr. Greeley. The proud proprietor of the roasted nuts stall. She buys a bag of warm, buttery sweet chestnuts.

 Hides them from Posy and Flora. This was her one little indulgence for today. She sneaks one of the hot things onto her tongue and savours it.

 She strides back up the line of shop windows. Looking and listening to the clack and bustle of the street behind her. Clopping hooves, rattling carts, ponies and traps clunking along the high street. Friends and acquaintances stopped to gossip and chat in the street. Young and old. Of every walk of life.

 She looks in the drapers window. The reflection off the glass, showed her a watery image of a gaggle of matronly mamas stood behind her across the street, loudly gossiping in her direction. Pointing and gesturing toward her.

 She rolls her eyes in huffing annoyance.

 She wasn’t enjoying being the inconstant centre of attention. Open to such censure and fascination in odes to the Hearst’s ball last night.

 Also in odes to the mysterious new stranger to these shores, too. The dark, dashing, and taciturn Lord Ren.

 Every wet-behind-the-ears girl in all of Hampshire was busy envisioning their swirled initials joined with his in their embroidery. A big handsome stranger from far off lands. It was the precursor to the stuff of romance from drippy novels. A harbinger of a great love story.

 Maybe not hers. Lord Ren may have kissed her hand and called her handsome. But so have countless other rich suitors, and then two months later them and their pretty blonde heiress of ten thousand pounds, are lavishly married and installed in a house in Brunswick square. She’s sure he’ll eventually find some far more moneyed girl to march into matrimony.

 It won’t be her- not her turn to pick out her wedding clothes. It never is.

 She lets the whispers and doubts about her, flourish from unimportant mouths.

 She never cared for the savagery of society. She won’t start being missish about it all, now. It won’t serve her any purpose-

 She can only hope the next scandal or engagement or elopement, or any other source of fascination to the bored inhabitants of this county, comes flooding in quick to snatch away all unhealthy - and rather undue - interest in her.

 She waits outside the haberdashers for her pair of silly sisters. They eventually come out. Comparing their new ribbons with each other’s. Flora has a pink, Posy has some frothy white lace.

 Posy hands Iris a teal silk ribbon. “For your hair. It would become you so well. And it will go with your eyes.” She insists.

 Iris smiles. Wrapping the long length of satin around her grey glove. It was very pretty.

 “Pray how did you afford this?” Iris narrows her eyes in smiling suspicion at the pair of them.

 “I saved up my allowance.” Posy insists plainly. Iris continues her look. She tilts her chin down a notch. Let’s her eyes harden to steel. Arched her muddy shaped brows.

 “...And the haberdasher’s son is so very obliging.” Flora beams. The younger Ashton’s giggle together knowingly.

 Iris sighs again. Strongly suspecting she could safely boast that she had two of the silliest siblings in the entire country. Hell, in the entire British Empire.

 “Let’s take our leave shall we...” Iris says. Slowly heading away. Down the street in the opposite direction they came. It took them home down on the woodland path.

 She picks up her pristine white skirts and steps over the mud. Baskets heavy with her goods now thunking against her hip as they walk. One filled with meat. The other with candles and potatoes and other luxuries for supper.

 Posy and Flora trail behind her. Discussing how best to use their ribbons. On bonnets or around the waistline of their favourite dresses. Iris drowns them out and listens to the crunch of her feet on the frost. The silver wisp of her breath as its whisked away up into the reach of the sky. She likes how sun glimmers off frost like sparkles and diamonds and gems. Like something fine and rich.

 They just come across a curve in the lane. Leading through an open meadow full of frosted grass and withered wildflowers. When a thundering sound gallops into being, hitting the hard ground in succession from beyond the bend.

 Iris looks up, attention captured swiftly by the beast of a large rider atop a colossal shimmering black horse, moving quick towards where they are walking along the quiet little lane. The peace shattered by the horses hooves pounding the earth.

 A great hulking beast of a man sits astride it. Who indeed almost matches the brutally-enormous muscled intensity of the creature he rides.

 Lord Ren.

 Iris startled and went to move aside. But he sees them and is already slowing the horse. She draws a deep breath and watches as he tugs the reins to reel in his galloping mount. Reducing to a canter, a trot and then to a slow stop. Hooves churning up frost and spitting wet and crushed muddy grass, under its enormous stomping treads.

 The sun in fiercely shining behind him. So Iris can only make out the silhouette at first. There’s no mistaking that singular body for another man. The primal size and bulk of him is unmistakable.

 But then he shifts forwards on his horse as it stops. Lumbering towards them all. And that winter sun shines amber over his shoulder and she’s met with the full face of the handsome man she became acquainted with yesterday. His breath and that of his horses turn to silver smoke in the cold air

 He passes the strops of its black reins into one gloved leather hand. His attire not much changed since yesterday. Still all black. The shining calf riding boots. The breeches that sit entirely too snug to the sturdy trunks of his legs and hips. The tailored black wool coat. White shirt tied with an elaborately knotted wine coloured cravat. Diamond pin studded central into the tie of the cloth.

 His hair is free and rumpled by the wind. Desirable and untamed. Wild. He wears no top hat on his head like most gentlemen of civility did, when out riding.

 Something about that lack of full dress she admires. Maybe he likes to feel the wind tangle his hair. The suns kiss his pale skin. The wind stinging at his cheeks. Likes galloping across the terrain at full speed on his mammoth sized beast of a horse.

 “Good morning ladies.” He nods to them all. Still seated on his horse.

 “Miss Ashton.” He smiles directly down at Iris as his horse shifts and stomps and nibbles the dewy wet grass below.

 She ducks her head and curtseys. “Good morning. Your Lordship.” She says politely. Dwarfed by his horses shadow.

 He holds her gaze for a second and smiles. Eyes more opulent charcoal in their shade than ever, this morning. He even had a kiss of pink colour in his cheeks. He looks healthy. Less alabaster pale. She strongly suspects its because of the icy wind stinging his cheeks as he rode.

 He unlatched his right boot from the stirrup and smoothly swings himself off the horse. Grips the pommel at the front of the black saddle and swings himself down. Feet land to earth with a crunching thud. Frost and grass crushed underfoot.

 His long wool riding coat flaps at his knees. Billowing open at his chest to show just his white shirt beneath it. Such thin layers. He must’ve been freezing.

 “If I may be so bold, Miss Ashton, allow me to see you along to your intended destination?” He asks kindly. One big hand patting the solid flank of his horses shoulder when it huffs at his dismounting.

 Iris’s cheeks go flaming red. She’s sure of it. Throat dry she manages to answer.

 “Oh. Forgive my impertinence Lord Ren. But I don’t wish to take you out of your way. Only we are heading in the opposite direction to your path.”

 “With your permission. I should like to walk with you. I’ve done a sufficient amount of riding for this morning.” He tells her.

 Iris smiles. Flattered that he’d rearrange his ride, just to see her safely home. Just to walk with her for a moment or two.

 Posy digs a sharp elbow into Flora’s ribs. Which jolts the youngest into speaking. “Iris. We were just going up the lane here to call on Charlotte Morris.”

 Iris gazes pointedly at Flora with a piercing state that could’ve rivalled a dressmakers needle. “How remiss of you not to bring it up until now...” Iris glares a little.

 “Should you mind?” Posy asks. Fluttering her lashes.

 “Of course not.” Iris says flatly. “Mind the hour home and do for heavens sake be sensible.”

 “We are the very vision of sensibility.” Flora beams.

 Iris quirks a wry brow at the both of them. Teeth grit.

 The two most transparent pests on the planet. Their plot was clear as day- One of sneaking away and leaving their elder sister unchaperoned and alone with him.

 They turn away giggling and make for the little lane opposite. Gabbling and whispering all the way. Loud giggles follow them like fluttering birdsong.

 When she turns back to Lord Ren he looks slightly amused. She blushes.

 “I feel I ought offer an apology, your lordship. They are- most puerile and trying at times.” Iris offers as she shifts to step nearer to where he is.

 He smiles gently. “They are young girls who fancy themselves cunning, I wager. No apology is necessary for that.” He declares affably. Patting his horses neck.

 He brings the big horse around. Holding the gathered reins in his left hand. He leads his gigantic horse around with a click of his tongue and some soft words in urging Bavarian. The big creature follows his lead. She moves and alters the heavy baskets on her arms.

 He sees this. Kylo frowns at the heavy weights at both her elbows. She shouldn’t be tasked with fetching and carrying like a damned pack horse. He extends a hand. “Allow me, Miss Ashton.”

 “Oh, no it’s- I couldn’t.” By the time her protestations die on her lips. He has one basket in one hand, the other, he tied the handle to a saddle bag strap on his horse. Lays it rest against the saddle.

 She’s mortified that a Lord offers to carry her basket for her.

 “That’s truly a magnificent horse. I’ve never seen the like before.” She says. The steeds eyes glitter as if it knows it’s being discussed. “What’s his name?” She asks rummaging in her basket he holds. Hand slipped under the cloth.

 “Erland.” Kylo says. The horses ears twitch.

 “Erland. A majestic name. For a majestic beast.” She smiles at him.

 She steps up to the horse and strokes her gloved hand down the flat bone between his eyes, leading down to his snout. Scents of hay and oats and animal sweat pour musky off his coat.

 “He’s a lovely animal.” She says. Stroking his solid flank.

 “Percheron. He’s a French draft horse. His breed originated in the Huisne valley in western France.” Lord Ren tells her.

 “Bred for use as war horses, and pulling stagecoaches. This one has a fair mount of Arabian blood in him too. Makes him far too proud and headstrong.” He announces. Erland flicks his swishing tail at his owner. Snorting at him.

 “I bought him with me from Bavaria. He’s the best riding horse I’ve had for a while. Stubborn temperament.” He offers. He watches her stroke his head. Touch the soft spot behind his ears.

 “You like animals, Miss Ashton.” He states.

 Most girls, as far as he’s aware, deigned horses as smelly, ugly creatures, whose only purpose was beneath them. Or to pull their carriages. She seemed to like this big equine creature very much.

 “I do. Especially ones who are as beautiful as him.”

 “Careful. Or else that flattery will shoot right to his ego.” He warns lightly.

 She smiles.

 Erland’s hairy velveteen muzzle cheekily nudges at her shoulder for more affection. He clearly likes her touch. Kylo tugs on his reins and frowns at him.

 “Benehmen Sie sich.” Kylo rumbles in a firm Bavarian command at his horse. Calling him back. Telling him to be good. Rubbing his stocky shoulder. The round strong bones of him and the hot silk of his coat underneath his gloved palm.

 She smiles. Lets the carrot she fetched from her basket, sit in the flat cradle of her gloved palm. She offers it to Erland, who snuffles it up and crunches on it. Breaking the frail vegetables skin with his big teeth. Munching it all down. Nuzzles her for more when he’s done.

 He snorts when Kylo speaks up. “Anymore and you’ll get fat. You great beast.” He assures his horse in that soft foreign dialect. Shoving his snout into Miss Ashton’s hand for yet more treats. Erland’s head was so big and his power so strong, he could’ve very realistically knocked her over with one push.

 She steps back and takes her place alongside a Lord Ren so they can continue in their walk. He’s a busy man. She doesn’t wish to hold him up. They fall into step easy. Her on Kylo’s left, Erland in his big lumbering enormity on Kylo’s right. His master has his right hand holding his stallions reins. The other easily carries her basket for her.

 “Did you enjoy your introduction into Hampshire society, Your lordship?” Iris can’t help but ask him with mirth creeping into her voice and on her smile.

 He turns his head to look at her. “The sheer amount of handsome and accomplished young ladies hereabouts is staggering.” He comments with dry humour. “I wonder if this isn’t the most accomplished county in all of England.” He states.

 Iris finds herself smiling. Every desperate mother worth her salt last night would be crowing her daughters praise to high heaven. Enough to induce the possibility that her very accomplished, pretty and upstanding daughter might have a chance at landing him.

 “Mothers can be so very domineering when the subject of marriage arises.” Iris promises. Looking down to step over a particularly frosty puddle.

 Kylo looks across at her. Watches her profile. Along the curve of her nose and the swell of her smiling lips. It occurred to him then, that she didn’t know of her beauty. She was not aware of its potency. He could sense it; this was a girl who overlooked her own worth and highly underestimated her attractiveness.

 With her pebble-ash eyes shining in the marigold sun like that, sparkling as if made of moonstone gems, and her rosy smile so unguarded and free. She didn’t see her beauty then. Not the way he could. Didn’t see it lay in the kiss of pink in her cheeks or the merriment of her face. On the geniality of her laugh and smiles.

 “I know I shouldn’t comment on such things. But I do feel so dearly for every new suitor who comes to this village. Every Mama and every daughter must veritably drown poor men with their female offspring.”

 Kylo raises one brow. “Rest assured. I’m not a man so inclined to favour polite safe conversation.” He promises her. He doesn’t tiptoe around propriety.

 “And I will admit I lost count of the young ladies I was introduced too last eve. My ears were quite ringing with names and sickly smiles by the end of the evening.” He confesses.

 She smiles wide again. Looks across. “I do sometimes wish that the people here could look beyond the scope of their own ignorance. To look beyond the defining goal of matrimony.” She confesses.

 “Why should a woman’s worth be tied onto who she weds? Can she not be her own person and find a man to suit that.” She avows. Letting her stalwart brain run away with her rather passionate mouth.

 “That’s very forward thinking of you.” Kylo says to her with a kind smile. Her face falls. She’s inspired insult with that comment.

 She’s flushing with embarrassment.

 “Mother would faint if she heard me confess that to you. Do forgive me, for the impertinence of my tongue.” She begs. Face wrinkling into a worried frown.

 “You have a mind. Miss Ashton.” Kylo says. “It’s entitled to make itself known.”

 “I’m a gently bred, unmarried, woman. And the eldest daughter, Lord Ren. My mind should be silent at all times. And possessed only, night and day, by thoughts and longing for matrimony.” She says. Quoting one of her mother’s rants.

 “Well. You have my word. I’m most blessedly glad it’s not.” He says. Turning to look deep into her eyes.

 She seems curiously confused. “You are?”

 “Indeed.” He answers plainly.

 “It means you are the one woman in this entire county with whom I can conduct a refreshing conversation. One that doesn’t revolve around reminding me again and again, that I’m a rich man who desperately needs a wife.” He offers.

 “I’m glad to hear it.” Iris says laughing. “Not often I happen find someone on the same page as myself.”

 “English men may find your so called ‘impertinence’ intolerable, Miss Ashton. For they were raised to know no better. But I am not a English man. Where I came from, it is applauded that a woman might speak her mind and have judgements and executions of her own.” He supplies.

 “Our way of life here must seem so strange and strict to an outsider.” She dares. The defining pinnacle of English country society was its savage nature, after all.

 “I don’t see much of the society in Bavaria.” He explains. “I see to the welfare of tenants on my land. I go hunting every season to pass the time. I’m afraid I rarely indulge in attending parties and balls.” He tells.

 “A castle must be an incredible home.” She guesses.

 “Even so- it can be very limiting being confined to it in the cold dark winters. Very little company. Little to entertain. I found myself wanting a change of scene. I had looked for some land opportunity’s to enclose in over here. When Hellford became available. It seemed a good opportunity to travel. Sink my teeth into a new venture.” He smarts. Eyes darkly roaming over her face with that handsome smile.

 She nods. “I quite understand.” Erland clops alongside them in the misty morning sunshine. Snorting breaths silver and wispy still in the biting air.

 “What are the winters like in Bavaria?” She enquires.

 He smiles. “Beautiful. But bitter.” He explains. “The snow can be deep. As tall as me some days when it falls.” She smiles at his description.

 “The castle stands out of a tall pine forest. A lake and a river to the east. One of the biggest woods in the country. Full of wolves, boars, and deer. It’s quite a wilderness in its own right.”

 “Goodness- wolves. Isn’t that terribly dangerous?” She frets.

 Not as much as me. He thinks. Matter of fact, when he steps foot in that forest, he is the most bloodthirsty dangerous animal in it.

 “The beasts respect the boundary of my castle. I respect the forest is theirs. It’s a symbiotic relationship.” He tells her.

 “Surrounded by wolves. You must feel very at home here too, then.” She jokes.

 He laughs. “There’s something familiar I grant. Though the wolves back home don’t don lace caps and thrust all their daughters at me.”

 She laughs at his remark. And suddenly, she goes spinning off course. Her worn boots slipping on a sneaky patch of frost and ice. No grip to their soles in this devilish cold. A yelp leaves her mouth as she skids. Blood flashing flushing hot and terrible suddenly. The shock of slipping stabbing at her stomach.

 He acts quick. He lets go of Erland’s reins and steps that big form forwards and snatched one arm out to grab her. Slips back around her waist, cups the back of her hip, and yanks her tight to him to stop her falling.

 She gasps and trembles as her vision spins, to be quickly halted by a sheer wall of cold, dark clad muscle. She barely registers where she is now.

 Because she’s pressed right up into Lord Ren’s redoubtably firm chest. Her palms crushed flat on his lapels. His arm seizing her back and cupping her onto him to stop her slipping. She can feel under her coat how her breasts are crushed flat to him. Can feel his breathing heaving up and down, much like her own.

 A shaky gasp leaves her mouth as she looks up, peering past the peak of her bonnet with flaming cheeks. Realising that they are slanted very close together. His face is right there, and he’s gazing down at her.

 She’s in his arms. Buried into his chest. And it feels incredible. Such musculature and sheer masculine mass under her palms. Her head swims. He’s dizzying. Hypnotising.

 Eyes as dark as burnt-ember molasses flecked with gold, and his lips look so invitingly pink ripe and soft- she curses at herself for that treacherous thought and her blush rises more. His wool coat and cologne nearly smacks her in the nose as she almost collided into his pectorals.

 Kylo can hear her fluttering heartbeat. Like a racing preys pulse beating wild. Frail and fast, like a baby birds. A huge drift of her fragrance absolutely drowns him, pulls him under. Clary sage, French lavender and peppermint. Sweet and calming. Addictive. He wants to lean down and taste the salt of it off her neck...

 It seems an eternity passes before he speaks.

 “Are you hurt?” He asks. Making sure she didn’t turn one of her ankles. Or damage the bone

 “T-Thankyou. I’m, I’m well.” She gasps. “I’m so sorry- I” She explains moving her hands down off his chest. He nearly swept her up off her feet. Now only her tiptoes brush the icy ground. The only part of her barely rooted to earth. Lost in those eyes.

 Domineering, commanding, brutal, eyes. Eyes that had seen this world ten times over. But never gazed upon anything comparable to her-

 Erland brings them both back down to earth. Snorting and fussing. Swishing his tail and nudging his nose at his masters shoulder.

 Sense swims back through the fog of attraction and the heady bloom of lust. Kylo unleashes her back and her hip from his hold.

 Quite liking the feel of her he accidentally - and literally - caught underneath her coat. The plump of her thighs and the shapely flesh of her hip and her bottom. There’s doubtless a figure to rival Venus herself, under this shapeless coat and thin dress. She slowly drags her hands off his chest and steps back. Avoiding the ice beneath her toes. Her gloves rasp on his fine wool coat.  

 “You fell. Miss Ashton. No need to be sorry for such a thing.” He tells her.

 “You’ve a steady hand, Lord Ren.” She compliments. Thanking him further. He still held her basket in the arm that had not reached out to catch her. He looked as if he barely had to flex out an arm to catch her. Just twisted his body. His reflexes were sharp and cunning. As strong as he was.

 He reached out and retook Erland’s reins.

 They continue walking carefully along the little lane. For Westwell is just beyond the tree line now. It saddens her that she’ll be home soon.

 Back to her daily chores. Back to scrubbing curtains, and helping cook roll pastry and mediating the silly shouting screeching arguments that Posy and Flora have over who gets to take turns to wear their favourite bonnet

 She reflects how restoring it is to talk to someone so fully - without having to watch or guard her tongue. It’s even more enlightening to talk to someone such as him. Someone who, like her, feels like an outsider. Never fully fits in. And harbouring no desire too.

 She feels her heart sink, morbid mournful and grey settling in her ribs, when they come to the meagre gateway along the short drive to Westwell. The twin stone pillars signifying the gateway were old and crusted with frosted moss.

 Kylo calls Erland to halt. She pats the wonderful beasts strong shoulder in goodbye. He rubs the great velvet plain of black his forehead at her. Kylo untied her basket and handed it to her.

 “I’d have no hesitation in seeing you to the door directly. But I fear your mother might see fault with our being left unchaperoned.” He disclosed. Giving her back the groaning full wicker basket with a clever grin.

 She shivers when their hands brush. If she had any doubts in her attraction, that betraying little Judas of a tingle that thrashed her body, made her realise otherwise.

 She likes him-

 “Astute observation, your lordship. I Thankyou for your discretion.” She blushes. Hooking the baskets back on her arms. Adjusting the shawl where it had slipped down from her shoulders.

 She looks down into her basket, and smiles. “A token of gratitude.” She explains before handing over the still warmed bag of chestnuts across to him.

 He cradled them in his leather gloved hand. Appreciative of the gift. He rarely ate food. There wasn’t much need for it and it wasn’t the manna that’s sustained him. He had little joy in any human sustenance - apart from humans themselves.

 When he did eat food, it was red meat that was still rare, juicy, and dripping blood. And he only drank sharp deep red wine.

 He reaches over and took her hand. Once again dropping Erland’s reins. He took her dainty hand and brought it up and bows to kiss her palm.

 He’s tired of satin and calfskin under his lips. He rather wanted to grasp a taste of her skin. Soon.

 “Always a pleasure, Miss Ashton. I hope the experience of your company repeats itself shortly.” He compliments.

 She smiles, apples of her cheeks creasing dimples with her widened smile. She nods politely and curtseys. “Your Lordship.” She curtseys gently. Bonnet tipping forwards. Criminally covering that beautiful face of hers.

 She turns and he watches her walk up the pale lane to home. Sun striping through the trees onto her bleached linen white skirts. Bleached by sunshine. And softly scented of fresh cotton and French lavender.

 Miss Ashton is made up of good intentions and possesses a giving heart as pure as gold. Pure. That’s his little dove all over-

 He looks down in his hand and weighs the small bag of nuts she’d gifted him. He lifts it to his nose and inhales their scent. Buttery, sweet, burnt and acrid.

 He tips his eyes back up to watch her. Thought creases up his brow. He’ll never know how it is to have such a virtue as a kind heart.

 She was made up of honour and purity and softness. Doves feathers, lavender and rose petals. And he is made of cruelty. Of war and broken glass and shards of steel. He was made between ash and snow and a landscape soaking swimming festering in blood. 

There’s no kindness in him. No mercy. Barely any love in him either. 

 He cares little for humans. After he was turned. That’s just how he became. They became meaningless specs of nothing to him. She has no idea what he is- who he is- he’s sent entire scores and countries of men shrieking to their deaths and writhing in agony into hell, cursing his name on their lips.

 And here she was handing him this little harmless gift, like he wasn’t one of the most fearsome beasts put on this earth.

 She’s not far away when she turns back - just as he’s about to mount Erland to ride back to Hellford Park once more. He tucks her meaningful present into his coat pocket.

 “Erland... Is that a Bavarian name?” She turns and asks curiously. A kind frown on the lintels of her eyebrows. She tilts her head curiously. Her grey eyes glitter innocently off the sun like honey poured onto slate.

 She’s so innocent. And it strikes him so deeply right then. How much he admires that.

 He hoists himself into the saddle using the pommel. Feet slipping in the stirrups. Hips resting back onto the cantle behind him.

 “It is a Norse name.” He calls to her. Erland is whinnying excitedly. Stomping his hooves to get out to the open fields and get his blood pumping. Kylo can feel the excitement shivering through his stocky legs.

 “What does it mean?” She seeks.

 “In old Nordic tongue, I believe it means ‘Outsider.’” He tells her.

 She smiles. “Well. I trust you both know you have atleast one friend in this Hampshire county.” She smiles.

 “Good day, Lord Ren.” She beams brightly. She turns away and she’s already missing the gaze of those melting cocoa eyes appraising her warmly.

 Her skin still thrashes from the memory of his touch. All over her skin is alive with the memory of that strength of his. His chest under her hands she’s never felt the like- he was as cold and solid as marble. Some Greek god manifested out of carved stone and come to life.

 He turns Erland back onto the snowy road. Clicks his tongue and urges him to run with a sharp dig of his shoe into his side. He feels the ice and the wind sting his skin for all the ride home.

 He thinks about her parting gift and her touch against his body for the rest of the day - truly he does. It’s moved him.

 He hasn’t been moved so much by another being in all of his years.

   ~ ~ 🥀  ~ ~

[chimswae]

BTS Caretake CH26

Summary: She may think she has Bangtan Sonyeondan wrapped around her fingers. She may think it is easy to love the members equally without hurting any soul. She may think the boys wont fall head over heels for her. She assumes it is okay to show a little love and affection towards the boys, what if she gets it all wrong? What if it only brings more complication to her already complicated life? Can she survive their charms? Will she be able to resist them? What if they just wont let her go?

- Pairing: BTS x Oc ( Yoongi x OC, Jungkook x OC)

- Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst, Romance, Idol!au

- Word Count: 4,918

- Author Note: Happy December everyone! Slightly late update~ sorry!

Previous | Next

Chapter 26

D-day

Few hours before the actual event took place, the boys would be walking down BBMAs Magenta Carpet along with other renowned celebrities creating their own history. Everyone had started running here and there since morning, hectic day indeed. Not to mention, the boys woke up as early as 8 in the morning to get their makeup done. Early bird Kim Seokjin was the first one in line looking annoyingly stunning and cheerful like he always does.

“You are early Jin” Semmy chuckled.

“Good morning to you too nuna” Jin chortled moving his head a little, showing off his so called adorable side. “So, where is Seul?” he clasped his hand in anticipation to see the other girl to appear behind Semmy.

Semmy raised one of her brows, bemused “Aren’t you being a little too clingy Jinnie? You may chase the girl away” she teased, placing the box down on the floor.

Jin pouted in his seat “I am being a responsible person here, since I am the one who suggested her to come along with us. I may as well use this chance to show how much I care” he defended himself earning a soft chuckle from others.

His personal manager retorted “You mean a chance to show how much you value her?” Jin gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his own chest. “Hyung, how could you betray me? I thought we are best friend!” he pursed his lips in protest.

“I thought you are Jungkook’s bestfriend. You guys hang out a lot without me anyways” he hummed nodding at Jin’s way. Before he could open his mouth to protest again, Seul’s chirpy voice ended the morning bicker, “Morning everyone!” the small girl pushed the stainless-steel clothes rack inside the room.

Namjoon beamed watching her making an entrance “Morning Seul. Did you get a good rest?” said the leader with a concern look. She nodded giving him a thumb up and shifted his attention to Jin “How early are you that you already working those magic on your handsome face” she giggled.

“I couldn’t even sleep, this anxiety is killing me” he claimed.

“You will be doing great, I am rooting for you Jin! Oh unnie, I bring their outfits, so who should I assist first?” the bright girl smiled flustering Semmy.

Jin and Namjoon exchanged glance smiling away, Semmy signalled Seul to the room next to her “Jungkook and Yoongi are inside, maybe you can see whoever is done with their makeup” she laid all the accessories on the coffee table.

The mention of Jungkook and Yoongi names twitched her heart, however she had to show her professionalism. She was not allowed to involve her personal feelings in her job. Risky and dangerous. Without much complain, she went straight to check those guys inside. Sprawling on the leather couch was Jungkook with gadget in his hand, his lips twisted in the cutest manner probably frustrated with the game battle that he had.

Meanwhile on the other side, Yoongi was sitting with his eyes closed facing the vanity table. The older woman applied a little colour on Yoongi’s lid, keeping his makeup minimalistic and as natural as she could. She slid silently beside them, watching the woman moved her fingers skilfully blending the colours which suit Yoongi’s pale skin. In all honesty, any colour would look good on him, and Seul found herself smile unknowingly at the thought.

Realizing Seul’s presence beside them, the brunette was about to greet her but Seul quickly placed her finger over her own lips signalling her to keep it low. Seul gave a polite bow mouthing her a good morning. The woman let out a silent giggle, sending her a wink before returned to her work.

‘Min Yoongi you are better and hundred times nicer, if you just keep your mouth shut like this’ she approached Jungkook hesitantly, waving her hand in front of his face to snap him out from his little world.

Be professional, said Seul. As soon as their eyes met, Seul couldn’t help the blush from making its comeback on her skin. His bunny smile was not helping either only to worsen it even more. Deadpanned, Seul fan herself with a soft huff “Are you done with your hair and makeup?” she quickly asked.

Jungkook’s round eyes blinked cutely as his nose scrunched up cutely in response “Makeup, checked. I haven’t done my hair though. What do you need stylist nuna?” he teased. Seul cleared her throat averting her eyes from meeting his, wherever but just not Jungkook.

“Oh, if you are done then you can call me over. I will just assist someone else for now” turning her heels as fast as lightning, she was ready to make an escape. Jungkook grabbed her wrist right on time “You can still dress me up anyway. At least I wont ruin the hair later on” the corner of his lips was tugged upward into his usual flirtiest smile.

“Let me get your outfit Jungkook-ssi” she pulled her hand and expelled a relief sigh. She mentally cursed herself from acting awkward around him. How could she stop thinking about her moment with Jungkook a day ago? It had been bothering since then.

Afraid to appear irresponsible, she grabbed Jungkook’s outfit and returned to the golden boy again this time forcing herself to act professional. Whiny Jungkook on the other hand didn’t give her a hard time, thankfully. She could properly assist him with his outfit and as soon as she’s done with him, Seul passed the job to Semmy. It was evident the younger guy requested Seul to style his hair but she’s quick to reject it.

It was not a request.

It was a way for him to commit sin.

That sinful Jeon Jungkook.

She gave this thing a deep thought as Seul decided to look for Hoseok and Jimin. Assisting the two-fluffy sunshine were the best resort at the moment. Just no Yoongi and Jungkook for the time being. While waiting for Hoseok getting ready, Seul lend her hand to style Jimin’s hair. She might not be a real professional, but she could do a simple thing start with the spray and how to style one’s hair. For some reason her practice with Hoon was quite useful.

Running her fingers in Jimin’s fluffy hair, she carefully smoothed the area that needed her attention. His gaze fell on her as he watched Seul caressed his hair from the reflection. Chewing his lips excitedly, it would be a lie that he didn’t enjoy it even a bit. Hell, he’s over the moon to see her face.

“I like this hair colour, it fits you” she murmured as a soft smile plastered across her face.

Jimin eyes shrunk in process allowing him to smile handsomely through the mirror “Don’t you like my pink hair?” she shook her head without hesitation. “Not a fan of it, I like your dark brown and black hair better. I always go for natural colour” she took a quick glance and grabbed the hairspray.

“Said the tangerine head” he flicked tongue his mouth, smirking.

“Hey, I am planning to change it back to black. Blame my stupid best friend. She forced me to try out this colour. She apparently thinks having your hair coloured is the process of adulting. It is absurd but whatever, I don’t really like it” Seul pouted keeping her hand busy spraying his hair carefully not to hurt his eyes.

He chuckled heartily “Adulting is never easy babe” Seul froze upon hearing the last phrase. What a sneaky mochi! He did not just call her babe out of the blue in an open space especially with the presence of other staffs.

Seul knocked his head a little using her knuckles to bring back some sense in him “Don’t babe me. Who allow you to say that” she snickered, frowning in disapproval. “Ow! Why are you using violence to punish me” he rubbed the top of his head, puckering his lower lips adorably hoping that Seul would spare his life.

“Let’s set a clear boundary here Park Jimin-ssi” she turned the swivel chair, so the mouthy guy could face her. Puffing her cheeks out of annoyance, she palmed the arm of the chair trapping the adorable guy in between. Her hard stare caused Jimin to shrink in his seat “Ya, Ji Seul you are scaring me” his head neck almost disappeared when she leaned forward intimidating him.

“First, you are not allowed to show your affection towards me in public. Make it physical contact or through your words. When I mean affection, limits your touchy side. Keep your hands to yourself” her stern voice sounded super serious and scary to him.

“It cant be hel-“ Seul silenced him with single glare. He pressed his lips together firmly, recollecting his thought and continue to listen to the girl sulkily.

“Secondly, don’t babe me. I have a personal vendetta against it especially when it comes from you. It is disturbing. We are not dating or anything so-“ “YET!” Jimin cut her off and once again her fiery glare penetrated his eyes.

He placed his hands on his lap like an obedient kid “Okay sorry, I will shut up”. It took a lot of strength to not laugh at the scene in front of her, but she had to make things clear. Seul didn’t want thing with Jungkook repeated by its own. The trios are dangerous and contagious to her fragile heart, it needed to be put on pause before bad things happen.

“So, we are not dating. Just don’t call me babe. I don’t do cliché thing, just call me anything but not babe” she cringed.

Jimin tilted his stupidly cute head in a slow motion as if he’s thinking about something “I will call you bunny then” her eyes rounded at the nicknames earning a soft chuckle from Jimin “Or do you want to make it sounded sugary, hunny bunny?” his plump lips rounded imitating Seul’s eyes.

“Ew, I prefer none”

“Should I call you berry, like strawberry because you smell like strawberry”

“Stop it”

“Or should I call you baby?”

“That is even worse”

“How does yeochin* sounds like?” (*A slang for Yeoja Chingu=Girlfriend)

“PARK JIMIN IM NOT YOUR YEOCHIN!” she hissed lowly careful not to attract any attention to their side. Seul stood in front of him, crossing her arms defensively.

Jimin pouted out of habit driving her up the walls, she hated it when he pouted.

She despised cutesy stuff, yet Park Jimin’s cutesy side was beyond her control. She couldn’t control her heart from drumming crazily. Like right now.

“Alright this is impossible. I will just set the last rule. No nicknames, just call me Seul” with that she spun the swivel chair back facing the mirror in front of them. Jimin inaudible protest could be heard clearly and it tickled her heart.

 Seul ended up spending another thirty minutes styling Jimin before moving to sunshine Hoseok. His smile pleased her heart as usual and finally she’s taking a break from handful guys like the trios. At least with Hoseok, she could act naturally without getting flustered most of the time. Plus, the light conversation that she had with Hoseok always end up playful and cheerful.

After all the members were ready, they would be interviewed by some Korean and American medias before heading to the venue. She swore she heard Bang PD beyond the door talking to the boys and it made her scared to death. He’s the big boss, to be in the same room as him, was nerve wrecking. Especially when she’s illegally replacing her mother place as their caretaker.

Seul sat together with other staffs taking their short break whilst the boys had their short interview and photoshoot outside. She had fun exchanging stories with the rest of the staffs and they had been nothing but awfully friendly to her since day one. Not to mention, BTS’s managers were as friendly as Sejin but bear in mind their goofy side would disappear once they were on roll again.

Their conversation died down upon seeing Bang PD followed by the boys behind him entering the room, everyone stood up bowing politely. Bang PD nodded “Thank you for your hard work, it must be tiring. I appreciate your dedication and passion” he fixed his glass at the bridge of his nose accompanied by a wide smile afterwards.

The moment his eyes landed on Seul, the latter watched the older man nervously and bowed again out of respect “You must be Ji Seul? Mrs Hwang’s daughter, am I right? Thank you for coming despite the short notice. I hope you are not burdened by it” he stated.

“No Sir! I am glad that I could help” she rubbed her hand together sheepishly.

“It must be hard to leave your mother alone. Is she doing alright? How’s the therapy treating her?” she steadied her breathing not to appear silly in front of him. So, she answered calmly “My mother is doing fine. It is hard for her part, but we are waiting for the donor. Thank you for asking” Seul bit her lower lips hoping the topic of caretaking the boys left untouched.

To her distaste, his next question taken her aback a little.

“Hm, I was quite worried that she wanted to continue caretaking the boys when she’s in no condition to work. She explicitly stressed her worries on the contract, but we can give her a long break from the job if she want. Will it be alright for her to work in that condition?” the boys exchanged worried glance in any case Bang PD might catch her lying to the company.

Seul broke into a cold sweat, “My mother is very stubborn. She insists on keeping the job because she’s worried of them. Technically, she takes care of Bangtan like her own son in fact she seems to love them more than me” she joked, letting out a small chuckle to ease the tension.

The older man laughed “Right, these boys did mention about that. Your mother is a kind lady and her dedication towards her job, I admire that. Maybe, you can fill in her place for the time being as their caretaker until she recovers” baffled Seul didn’t expect such proposition from the man in front of her. Bang PD had bigger heart than she imagined. He’s a thoughtful man.

Sejin’s face hardened as he too did not expect to hear such things from Bang PD. However, it would be a good thing meaning he had no secrets to keep from the company. BTS looked satisfied and their nervousness now being replaced by excitement.

“Me? But I am not married”

“What is wrong with your marital status young lady?” he eyed her with curiosity.

Seul mumbled “My mother told me that Bighit only hire people that’s married” she exclaimed timidly.

“Yes technically. We improvised the rules last year and changed it to in light of the recent events” he glanced at Namjoon’s way causing the younger man to lower gaze in guilt. “It is done to protect these boys from malicious rumours. Don’t worry, you are an exception since your mother has been working with the company for years. I was grateful for her hard work, taking care of these boys despite we couldn’t pay her much back then. She went to extra length feeding these boys using money coming from her own pocket. Your mother is an angel, this is the least that I could do for her to repay her kindness” he said genuinely.

She was losing her words and without she realized her body moved by its own bowing again, as soon as she lifted her head, Yoongi’s eyes explored hers. His heart stung to see the obvious tears in her eyes.

“Thank you, Sir. I will deliver the news to my mother soon. We’ll work on that” with this closure that she obtained from the head of the company itself finally put her mind at ease. She no longer had to sneak in and out like a criminal. Bang PD acknowledged her presence, that was enough for Seul to tend her job without fear of getting caught.

A trace of genuine smile could be seen on his face “I will inform the management team about it. It is set then. Be a good daughter to your mother and take care of her alright?” Seul nodded with her usual sunny smile. Bang Pd turned to the face the seven guys “She will be your caretaker from now on, no funny business boys” Jungkook pressed his lips into thin line trying not to break any silly smile.

“Even if you do have some funny ideas in your head, keep it under radar. Just.. hmm don’t get caught” he shoves his hand inside the pocket before leaving the room following Sejin for his next appointment.

Dumbfounded, Seul tried to decipher Bang Pd’s final words and she glanced at those silly boys, who had funny smile on their face as if mocking her. Did they just get a green light from their boss? Today was their lucky day, indeed.  

 ----------------------------

Seul had already left with other staffs to the backstage considering the guys still had the magenta carpet to slay before they entered the venue. People started to fill all the empty seats. It didn’t take that long before the crowd grew bigger and the seats filled rapidly. Her eyes scanned the venue diligently and she spotted Armys in their seat with their Army Bombs and fancy placards. She smiled to herself complimenting their cuteness.

Shortly after, the cheers erupted embarking the entrance of BTS inside the venue. She could tell the flabbergasted face from the non BTS fans inside the venue trying to look for the source of the scream. Their fans started to cheer even louder while chanting “BTS” all over again until the boys settled down in their seat.

The boys didn’t see it coming and for once they were proud of themselves knowing Armys were there with them. They were no longer felt small and ashamed of themselves. Armys were as huge as other fanbases. Jungkook drummed his fingers on his thigh nervously, glancing around watching some familiar and unfamiliar faces flooding the arena.

The boys spotted their favourite celebrities from afar but too shy to make the first move. Some of the celebrities would casually come up to them and they had small talk, taking pictures together rendering them speechless. Everything was too dreamy for them but what else could they wish for.

“Seul-ah lets fix their look one last time before the event start” Semmy shoved the small bag in Seul’s embrace and the shorter girl walked after her and two of the staffs entering the arena. They gave a light touch up on their makeup, making sure they shone amongst the biggest stars in the arena.

Seul went to Taehyung, leaning down a little fixing his hair, “Good luck Tae. Don’t be nervous” he smiled beautifully with a soft murmur “Not anymore, now that I have seen your face” Seul rolled her eyes with a straight face.

“Right. See you later” after her final touch, she moved to Namjoon’s side. The leader seemed a little tense probably since they were nominated, it was the craziest feeling. He softened as soon as he noticed Seul’s fingers fiddle with his tux, smoothing it in process.

“Are you scared?” she took mini hairspray in the sling bag, before spraying the mist a little. He nodded, expelling a deep breath “You can do it. Whatever happen, Bangtan will always be the winner in Army’s heart” she fixed his hair to the side with her delicate touch.

“What about your heart?” his eyes glimmered.

Seul chuckled “We will see how you guys behave, since I am your official caretaker now” Namjoon pursed his lips in protest. “I will see you later, enjoy the show” she straightened up, not wanting to prolong the conversation any longer. There were eyes everywhere. Armys had eagle eyes, that was the scariest part.

Her body momentarily froze when she realized the next member, Min Yoongi. Yoongi burning gaze making Seul shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny. She kneeled as her back started to ache a little after the quick session with earlier members.

“You have been avoiding me ever since we reached here” his raspy voice was low. Seul tried to not get affected by that voice of his and did her job with a serious face. Neither she made an attempt to respond him nor she looked Yoongi in the eyes.

He clicked his tongue in disbelief “You are impossible Ji Seul. I will spare your life for now. Wait until everything is over” she looked unamused by Yoongi’s empty threat. She purposely squished his shoulder with greater pressure pretending to fix his tux to clean the so-called dust, making the rapper to jerk backwards in his seat.

Seul ran her fingers to the necklace around his neck, with a little tug, the guy coughed a little realizing the girl before her was about to choke him to death. That was exaggerating though, it acted as some sort of warning from the fierce Ji Seul.

Clenching his teeth together, his jaw tightened “Are you trying to choke me?” his forehead creased into a deep frown. Namjoon stole a glance at the couple and shook his head, resuming his conversation with the 95-liner.

“Attempt murder that is the word” she stated with her nose scrunched in bafflement.

Yoongi scoffed his disbelief “More like giving me a glimpse of how you want me to take you in bed” he looked up. She shot him a death glare looking eager to chop his foul tongue. Min Suga always know how to irk her. Seul gritted her teeth sending him a last hard stare before tailing Semmy behind. He watched the girl disappear from his vicinity following the rest off the staffs.

‘And no good luck for me? Impolite much’ he cursed in his head out loud. The urge to pull the girl back in his arm thickening.

He had to admit Seul could be somewhat confusing. One time she would be an angel in front of him, acted shy and very responsive to his teasing and touch. However, at one-point Seul could be a little aggressive only with him. He wondered if that girl had a personal vendetta against him. Why was she treating him like he’s her number one enemy? Gosh, she’s complicated.

 Halfway through the shows, the announcer finally announced the winner of Top Social Artist Award and it was surprising though some already predicted BTS victory in this category. They practically beat Justin Bieber here which was a big deal. They were losing their soul as soon as they were announced as the winner.

None of them expected it to happen overnight considering the invitation to BBMAs alone were beyond greater than anything. Namjoon did his speech in English and added a little Korean in the end before they left to the backstage celebrating their glory together. They were at the verge of shedding tears, yet they had to compose themselves. It is not Korea, they must look good since they were carrying their country’s name on the shoulder.

Upon their arrival at the backstage, they were again welcomed by a loud clap and cheer from the crews and Bighit staffs included Seul. She was standing at the corner, watching them diligently with a proud smile. No words could describe her feelings that time. She was as overwhelmed as them.  

Jungkook scrutinized the large area looking for the one face that he hoped to see and soon grinning from ear to ear once their gaze locked. Seul mouthed him a congratulation with big two thumbs up. He winked at her way and muttered a thank you before shifting his attention to the cameras in front of him.

They were supposed to do a quick backstage interview after winning the trophy, so everyone had moved to another side of the area. It was hectic with crews running from one place to another making sure everything ran smoothly.

On the other hand, Hoseok took a deep breath trying to calm down his aching nerve. His heart was racing, almost like it wanted to get off his chest. He stood behind Namjoon together with Jimin, whilst others paid attention to the interviewer. Soon, Hoseok felt a painful knot in his stomach and throat.

This heavy feeling tugging his heart making him hard to breathe. Jimin noticed his rapid breathing, he reached out to touch the older guy’s back “Hyung, are you alright?” he whispered. Hoseok steadied his breathing and shot the latter a small smile “I need to use the restroom, am I allowed to leave for a moment?” he murmured.

Just about time, their interview with the news outlet was done and they were ready to move to the next one before Jimin interrupted. “Hyung, Hoseok hyung need to go to the restroom, can he?” Namjoon patted his shoulder, looking concern “Are you alright Hobi?” he blinked.

“Y-eah… just nature call…” one of the managers came to his side, assisting him out from the crowd to find the restroom.

Squishing between the crowd was dizzying and he was lagged behind trying to catch up the man in front of him. Hoseok felt like throwing up as he clutched onto his belly refraining it from coming out. The vision in front of him was blurry and he’s drenched in sweat. Not caring of the surrounding, he dragged his heavy feet to escape the crowd and to find a quiet place to calm himself.

He bumped into something more like someone along his journey. It was not hard to recognize the owner of the voice, Seul only her. Seul grabbed his hand, holding onto it tight “Hobi, are you alright? You don’t look good?” she looked at him in sheer horror.  

Hoseok tightened the grip around her wrist, as his hand shook followed by his heavy breathing. Seul pulled his arm in daze trying to find a more secluded place for him to regain his composure. Hurriedly Seul made a sharp turn at the corner and opened the door to a random room which appeared to be empty, thankfully.

She closed the door behind him and sat the panic guy on the chair. “Alright, calm down your breathing, take a deep breath, take a deep breath Hobi” she knelt down at his level, giving a soft squish on his hand.

“I c-ant” Hoseok clutched onto his chest, continue breathing loudly through his nose.

“You have to hold your breath for few seconds before releasing it. Think of happy thought, something that can calm you” Seul said in panic.

Hoseok weirded out upon hearing her statement and his chest moving heavily following his unstable breathing “Okay wait! Just try to hold your breathing!” desperately Seul held onto both his hand tight “together with me 1, 2, 3” Hoseok followed her but failed to do so.

“OH GOD! What should I do” Hoseok squeezed his eyes together forcing the air out from his lung and made another attempt. Seeing how Hoseok struggled, she had finally decided to take the matter in her own hand. Hence, without wasting any time, Seul cupped one of his cheek “I am sorry I have to do this” she closed the gap between them, hovering his lips with hers.

Hoseok’s breath hitched for few seconds as she drank in his gasps and sighs.

He couldn’t breathe.

Momentarily paralyzed.

His mind was in a haze.

The way how their lips intertwined onto each other, darken Hoseok’s thought. He never thought of having such close contact with her. How was he supposed to react to this?

She pulled away staring blankly at Hoseok hoping the techniques worked to stop his panic attack. And, it did. Hoseok breathed softly and forced the words out “How did you do that?” he uttered in bafflement.

Seul licked her lower lips, smiling meekly “I read once, if you hold your breath, it could stop your panic attack” the older guy was trying to recover himself from the sudden kiss that they shared. Even though her intention was to help him but why was he feeling fuzzy over it?

Hoseok shrugged the thought off from his mind, blinking few times and finally breathing normally again.

“Are you okay?” she felt self-conscious after the kiss. Not that she wanted to make it sounded like it was very special to her, still it was a kiss. The skinship was intimate not just a mere hug.

Did she just get herself into another trouble?

 The two of them stayed in the room for ten more minutes giving Hoseok a space to regain his sanity. Now that his breathing normalized, Seul felt her blood rushed on her face, tainting her cheeks red. None of them dared to speak a thing, still bewildered by their own action.

“I..think we need to go find others. They must be worried” Seul broke the silence and making her way to the door.

Hoseok bit his lower lips, surpassing his grin “Thank you Seul, for….yeah”

Seul moved her head, nodding slowly at his way as they were back in the scene searching for others before they made a fuss over Hoseok’s disappearance.

  This work belongs to  Chimswae © 2020. All Rights Reserved

[rhetoricalrogue]

31 Days of Wayhaven, Day 26

Prompt: Past Rating: G, mentions of long ago off-screen death Words: 3,018 Characters: Bjorn EcklundCameron Buchanan, Marle Starling, Agent Fiona Note: This is the most self-indulgent little fic I’ve written this month, purely because Cam’s faceclaim is the same as a character that I killed off, then later decided to resurrect as a bigger role, then ultimately set aside on a shelf and I had a mighty need to bring him back as a cameo here.  This, of course, meant that I needed to bring my small witchy Marle in as a cameo, seeing as she is the Thelma to Fiona’s (courtesy of @asaucyginger ) Louise (or is that the other way around?)

For the @31daysofwayhaven event.

Wayhaven, Cam discovered, was a quaint little seaside town that had charmed him the moment he stepped out of the car and looked over the docks.  Closing his eyes, he felt the pull of the sea, the feeling still gentle and welcoming yet with an industrious air to it as if the waves had many things to do and very little time to do them in.

He and Penny walked hand in hand to the nearby historical home turned Bed & Breakfast where they were planning on staying the weekend, Penny pointing out a few shops she wanted to check out while they were there from her phone.  Apparently the Mayor of the town was trying to make this a tourist destination and had revamped the single webpage from what looked to be self-taught HTML into a more appealing site since the last time Cam had curiously checked it out.  

He paused on the front porch, Penny already entering to check them in.  As much as he enjoyed an opportunity to be alone with Penny, Wayhaven was Unit Bravo’s home turf now, and it felt like stepping on their toes to be in town for Agency work.  As part of their demotion to Unit Delta, Cam’s team had been given administrative fieldwork detail that was usually done by new recruits or lower level clearance units.  Nicky had been insulted, muttering all manner of foul things under his breath as he took over the more clerical type jobs, and Penny had been irked at being given menial tasks that wouldn’t even challenge green field agents, but Cam had accepted their fate with more grace.

For example, this job that had brought them into Bravo’s new backyard.  There was a green witch who had newly decided to not only make her home in town, but to open up shop.  This wasn’t unusual for her, if her file was anything to go by.  She followed Agency protocols for business owners to the letter and had a superior rating in every inspection her shop underwent.  By all means, Marle Starling was a model supernatural citizen and this initial inspection of her new shop would be a formality.  The only negative mark on her record was the fact that she was close friends with Agent Fiona, which only proved to Cam that even the straightest laced and professional people had need of a little chaos every now and again.

Turning to the front door, Cam joined Penny in getting their things situated into their room before heading out.  The town was small and the weather pleasant enough that they both decided to walk to the shop.

Penny had gotten distracted at the sight of a cute little flower shop, so Cam opened the door to Tea and Tarot by himself, the gentle chime of bells above the door welcoming him in.  The shop was small, but decorated in a way that made it seem cozy instead of cramped.  There was enough room for several tables for patrons to enjoy their tea and Cam’s eyes flicked over to the till where there were advertisements for various teas ranging from High Tea to Afternoon Tea and even a birthday party tea.  The counter featured a display case with a few baked items, signs advertising that many had come from Haley’s Bakery downtown, but there were a few scones and other treats that were made in-house.  The lemon bars in particular proudly displayed a House Specialty! sign next to them.  Even the large chalkboard with the various teas available written on them was pleasant to the eye, said teas charmingly organized in large glass canisters both behind the counter and on top of it for easy viewing.

Greenery from plants hanging at the ceiling crept along the white painted brick walls, and there was a back alcove with a Tarot Readings Here sign hanging over heavy green velvet drapes that when closed, would give both the reader and the person asking for a reading privacy.  All in all, it was a peaceful, charming little shop.

“Hello!  I’ll be with you in a moment!”  Cam waited as a petite woman with dark brown hair done up in a Dutch braid emerged from a back storeroom, wiping her hands on a towel.  She wore a cheery looking mustard colored dress with bees and flowers printed on it and looked exactly the way he imagined an owner of such an establishment would look.  “Good afternoon, sorry for the wait.  How may I…”  Cam watched as she looked up at him, all the blood draining from her face and the towel falling from limp fingers.

“Are you alright?” he asked in concern, stepping forward and holding out a hand when he saw her sway forward, her own hand shooting out to catch herself on the countertop next to her.  “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

She blinked and cleared her throat.  “Sorry,” she said, putting a shaking hand to her throat.  “For a moment there, you reminded me of someone I knew.”

“Do you need to sit down?”  Cam pulled out a chair and offered it to her.  

She laughed.  “No, I’m fine.  Thank you for your concern though.”  She tilted her head.  “Well, seeing as you’re not the person I thought you were, I haven’t seen you in these parts.  Marle Starling, proprietor.”

Seeing that the shop was empty, Cam decided to forgo the usual pretend to be a normal human niceties.  “Commanding Agent Cameron Buchanan.”

Her brow arched.  “Ah.  I was wondering when the Agency was going to send an inspector.  Yet I wasn’t expecting them to send one of their unit leaders to do a clerk’s job.”

He shrugged.  “Long story.  May I have a look around?”  He held up his phone, showing her the inspection document he had pulled up.

“Please, be my guest.  Would you like a cup of tea while you work?”  Marle moved behind the counter and flicked on an electric tea kettle.

“No thank you.”  Cam began his report, watching out of the corner of his eye as Marle pulled a small French press out from behind the counter and filled it with one of the blends she had in stock.  “So, green witch?  Have you done any work in town?”

“Not directly.”  She added a large dollop of honey into a ceramic mug shaped like a honeycomb, complete with a cheerful looking bee sitting on top of the handle.  “I carry teas to soothe colds, unstuff sinuses, and help people fall asleep, but selling such remedies isn’t outlawed.  My beeswax balms for chapped hands and lips are made from the same formulas that you would find anywhere else, even if the herbs and flowers used in the making are of better quality.”  The kettle gave a beep as it reached temperature and she poured the contents into the French press, Cameron watching as the tea swirled to life inside the glass, tinting the water with a faint yellowish red color.

“You stock your own honey?” He pitched his voice to be heard as he wandered into the back stockroom Marle had come out of, making note of the local Health Department approved sink and kitchen area.  Something had just finished baking in the industrial oven and the smell made Cam’s stomach rumble.

“Harvested fresh from my bees in my backyard.”

He came out in time to see Marle sitting at one of the tables, her face in her hands as she tried to catch her breath.  He hung back long enough until she was composed before making enough noise to let her know that he was back in the front.  “And your readings?”

“Standard tarot readings, nothing magical about them.  I also do rune readings, though I haven’t gotten much interest in them.  People tend to stick with ways of divination that they’re familiar with.”

“Well,” Cam finished the incredibly brief inspection report.  “I can confidently say that your establishment passes all Agency requirements.  Unless you have any questions, I think I’m done here.”

Marle’s eyes grew large.  “Wait!  Are you sure you can’t stay for a cup of tea?  Perhaps something to eat?”

He smiled as he shook his head.  “I’m afraid not.  I’m meeting up with my fiancée and I don’t want to keep her waiting.”  He winked.  “Besides, I wouldn’t think that you’d want to spend more time with a person that looks like someone that clearly upset you.”

Marle opened her mouth, color rising to her cheeks.  “No, I wasn’t upset.”  She clasped her hands together, her thumb rubbing against her fingers.  “You caught me by surprise is all.  I haven’t seen the man you look like in a long time.” Her eyes went down to the table’s surface.  “A very long time.”

Both of them turned towards the front door when the chimes signaled another patron.  “Pour us a cup, Mar,” the woman said, unwrapping a scarf from her hair, the bright red curls bouncing around her shoulders once they were free.  “And add some extra sugar in.  Du Pain in My Ass Mortain fucked up my ribs something awful just now and it irks me that we ended in a draw this round.”

Marle rose from her seat and went behind the counter again.  “Fiona, we have a guest.”

The woman, who was slightly shorter than Marle, smirked.  “No you don’t.  Agent Buchanan.”

He nodded.  “Agent Fiona.” 

Fiona, uncharacteristically narrowed her eyes at him.  “Are you done with Agency business, selkie man?”

The hard tone of her voice was one he’d never heard before, especially since the handful of times they’d interacted had been light and flirty.  “I am.”

“Then get out.”  She flashed him a smile that was too full of pointed teeth.  “Please.” 

The protective way that Fiona rounded the table until she put herself between Marle and himself made him wonder what was going on.  “Have a good evening.  It was nice meeting you, Marle.”

“Likewise.” 

Cam left the shop feeling oddly out of sorts from the strange encounter, but his spirits lifted when he saw Penny sitting at a nearby bench.  He was about to make his way towards her when he heard Marle call out to him.  “I’m sorry about Fiona,” she said in a rush, holding a white waxed paper bag out.  “She’s a little prickly when she comes back from a -”

“An unofficial brawl with Agent Adam du Mortain?”  He held up a hand.  “Trust me, those fights aren’t as secret as the two of them would like to think.  And don’t worry, I don’t take offence.”

She let out a breath.  “Good.  Here, for you and your fiancée.”  She pressed the bag into his hands.  “Lemon bars.  They’re my signature treat.”

There was a strange prickle of magic as their fingers brushed together.  Cam frowned as the hopeful look in her eye faded and her mouth turned sadly downward.  “I thought you said you didn’t practice on people,” he murmured.

“Sorry, I sensed you had a headache and I didn’t say a word about practicing on Agents,” she countered.  Her eyes flicked to a point behind his shoulder.  “I take it that she’s your wife to-be?”

Cam didn’t need to look behind him to know that Penny was making her way towards them.  After so long together, he could easily sense her presence.  “She is.”

Marle looked up at him.  “And you’re happy?”

There was zero hesitation.  “I am.  Happier than I’ve been in a long time.”

She closed her eyes and smiled, her lips trembling the faintest bit.  “Good.”  She opened her eyes and Cam was surprised to see a sheen of tears when she looked up at him next.  “I wish the two of you many more years of happiness to come.”  Just as Penny walked up to them, Marle backed away, slowly turning and entering her shop again.

“That was...odd,” Cam said, watching as the Open sign on the door slowly turned to Closed.

“Did you get the inspection done?” Penny asked.

“I did.”  Shaking his head, which he only then realized that the faint ache that had lingered for most of the afternoon was magically gone, he held up the bag in his hand.  “Hungry?  I heard these lemon bars are a house special.”

-

Marle stood at the door to her shop and watched the couple walk away, the blonde woman threading her arm through Cam’s and resting her head on his shoulder as they went.  She couldn’t help the shuddering breath that escaped her as she locked the door and turned off the lights, leaving the main area dark save for the soft glow of white fairy lights strung around the perimeter of the room.

“Here,” Fiona said, handing Marle her mug. 

“There’s bourbon in this,” Marle told her, taking a sniff.  “Way more than a shot too.”

“I figured you needed it.”  Fiona gently put her hand on her friend’s shoulder.  “That wasn’t him.”

“I know it wasn’t.”  Marle made her way back to one of the tables and sat down.  “Though, gods, at first I thought it was.”

“He does bear a striking resemblance.”  Fiona puttered behind the counter and made herself a cup of tea, adding a liberal amount of booze from the flask in her pocket.  Before joining Marle at the table, she slid open the bakery display and grabbed the plate of triple chocolate brownies that were still warm from the oven.  “But he isn’t Bjorn.”

Marle twisted her fingers together.  “I thought, maybe, that there may have been a chance…”

“Oh, honey, you didn’t.”

“I was smart enough to whisk his headache away so he didn’t know I was reading him for any other enchantment, maybe something that had caused memory loss.”

The plate of brownies and mug went down on the table with a clatter before Fiona pulled her chair close to Marle’s and took her hands in her own.  “Your husband has been dead for over eighty years.  His ship capsized in a storm and there were no survivors.”

“They never recovered a body.”

Fiona’s fingers squeezed.  “And the two of us never recovered one either.  I thought that you’d…”

Marle pulled her hands away.  “What?  Accepted my husband’s death?”  She closed her eyes and took a breath.  “I had.  It’s just...when I saw Cameron walk into my shop, wearing the same types of sweater that my husband liked to wear and looking just like him…”  She stopped to wipe at her cheek. “I had this hope that maybe, just maybe the impossible had happened.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”  She sniffled and scrubbed at her eyes.  “He’s been gone for eighty years, but I miss him.  I miss him every day.  Today was exceptionally hard, but to have even the briefest of moments where my Bjorn was brought back to me…”

She didn’t fight it when Fiona’s arms wrapped around her.  “I’d hoped that you never had a reason to meet him,” she said, smoothing her friend’s hair as she cried.  “He’s a good man, clever and polite when it comes to dealing with the fey, but I wanted to spare you the heartache when I realized he was the spitting image.”  She pressed a brief kiss against the crown of Marle’s head.  “I’m sorry, m’dear.  Even if you’re not.”

“Thanks, Fee.”  Marle moved away and used the towel Fiona had thought to bring with her to wipe at her eyes.  Looking up at the ceiling, she let out a heavy sigh.  “The only thing I’m sorry is that you decided to be friends with a woman prone to weeping.”

Fiona looked at her for a moment.  People processed grief differently, and for someone who was for all intents immortal unless burned at the stake for being a witch - a practice that Fiona was glad to see fall out of favor, by the way - Marle had a great deal of time to carry the weight of her grief until she decided it was time to let it and her departed husband rest.  She herself was no stranger to grief, she’d gained and lost a number of loves in her long lifetime and wagered that she would gain and lose a handful more before she was done having fun in this world.

“Please.  You’re the one who thought it would be wise to befriend me.”  Reaching over, she pulled the plate of brownies closer to them.  “But I know what will lift your spirits?”

Marle looked at her friend.  “Does it involve eating that entire platter of brownies and getting wasted on whatever you have in that flask of yours?”

“You know me too well.”  She picked one of the brownies up and took a bite, closing her eyes at the flavor.  If it was ever determined that she had one, Fiona would gladly sell her soul for a lifetime supply of these brownies.  They were better than anything else she had ever eaten.  They were better than anything else she had ever attempted to make herself.  They were better than sex. 

Okay, so that was up for review.  It depended on the partner.  The fact of the matter was that Marle’s brownies were damn good and she sold them at a shockingly cheap price to people who had better appreciate what they were eating.

“So what do you say?  Let’s get shitfaced and sugar buzzed?”  She hoped that it would be distraction enough to keep Marle from being upset all evening.

Marle picked up her mug and lifted it towards Fiona, who picked up her own mug and carefully touched it with a clink of ceramic.  “Best idea of the day.”

“Hey now, you haven’t even heard my idea to use the fairy door I’ve got stashed somewhere to head to the all-male sauna in Finland.  The locals know me by name.”

That made Marle snort into her tea.  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“Hey, a girl knows how to have a good time.”

“That you do.”  She reached out and squeezed Fiona’s hand.  “Thanks, Fee.”

She squeezed back.  “Any time.”

[willow-salix]

Isolation update.

Day 71 of Isolation on Tracy Island.

“Hey, Grandma, you OK?” I asked as I walked into the kitchen, finding her slumped at the table, her chin propped up on her hand, miserably swiping through pages on her tablet.

“Yes,” she sighed.

“That didn’t sound convincing,” I said gently, sitting down opposite her. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, not really. I’m just getting a little tired of all of this lockdown business.”

“I think we all are,” I sighed in agreement.

“I know I should be grateful that we have such a nice place to spend it, but I just want a chance to see more than these four walls, to go out somewhere with the family, maybe for dinner, you know? Somewhere nice where I don’t have to cook and can relax a bit.”

I didn't mention that it would be nice for all of us if she didn't feel the need to cook.

“I know, I just need to stop complaining and get on with it,” she huffed, clearly annoyed with herself as she got up to fetch another cup of coffee.

"Don't be silly, you're allowed to have a little moan now and then, it makes you human. The boys have been complaining non stop since this started. We're all restless and moody."

"There are people a lot worse off than us," she sniffed. "We aren't struggling, we live on a paradise island that many would kill to even spend a day on. We should count our blessings."

"Yeah, we should," I agreed softly, but my mind was whirling. There had to be something we could do to make her feel better, she did so much for us all and I didnt like to see her this way. It wasn't like I could conjure up a restaurant right here… or could I? Not a full restaurant, but maybe a nice meal for her, a chance to dress up and have a good night? That I could do. I pulled out my phone and sent a group text to everyone but Grandma, invoking the summoning that no one was allowed to ignore. “Council of war!”

***

We all assembled in the lounge, leaving Grandma to bang around in the kitchen in a foul mood.

“Guys, I have a plan,” I announced.

They all groaned.

“No! Be nice! Seriously, this is a good plan, it’s important. Grandma is having a bad day, she’s feeling a bit restless and down right now. She said that what she really wants is to be able to go out somewhere for a nice family meal.”

“She’s always loved going to nice places,” Jeff agreed.

“That’ll be a little hard right now unless she wants to sit in a street somewhere with a burger,” Scott said, scratching his chin vigorously. Yes, the beard beginnings were still there and apparently still annoying them.

“ I don’t think that's quite what she had in mind,” Virgil laughed.

“So, here’s my plan," I continued before they could go off on one of their tangents. "I think we should make her favourite dishes and then all dress up nicely, I’m talking suited and booted, eat in the dining room and be all fancy. But keep it a secret for her.”

They didn't look too convinced at first, but slowly they saw the merit of my brilliant idea.

“If we handle the cooking and the table, can you and Kayo distract Grandma for the afternoon?” Virgil asked.

“Sure, I’m sure we can think of something, but are you sure we can trust you all to cook?”

John rolled his eyes. “We are perfectly capable of cooking for ourselves, you know, we are grown men.”

Now it was my turn to not believe what I was hearing.

“Seriously, you can trust us,” Alan promised me.

“Really? Usually you all need wrangling just to get through the day. You honestly think you can do this without arguing?”

“It’s for Grandma,” Gordon shrugged. “We’ll do it for her.”

That was a statement I couldn't argue, they would do anything for her.

“OK. Kay, this is going to be tough on both of us, but we’re gonna have to be brave.”

“Why?” she asked, immediately suspicious.

“Because we’re going to let her dress us up.”

***

Leaving the boys with recipes and strict instructions to behave and follow the plan to the letter, we tracked down Grandma.

“Grandma, wanna join us? We’re having a girly pampering day,” I asked.

“Both of you?” she clearly didn't believe that Kayo had been involved with the planning of said day. Time for plan B.

“Kayo lost a bet to me, and I said that, in payment, she has to allow me to put makeup on her and make her wear a pretty dress.” There, that sounded more believable, the glare Kayo was throwing in my direction certainly went a long way towards making it look more convincing.

“To make it fairer I said I’d dress up to, want to help?”

“I get to dress you two up?”

Kayo and I glanced at each other, in my case for moral support and strength, in hers to shoot me another death glare that promised retribution.

“Sure, as long as you dress up too, we’ll make an afternoon of it and have fun.” I nudged Kayo.

“Yeah, great fun,” she agreed. “So, are you in?”

“Heck yeah I’m in. When do we start?”

I spotted Scott peeking around the door and making shooing gestures at me.

“How about now?”

“Now? But I’m not done cooking yet.”

“Don’t worry about that now, there’s stuff in the freezer, I’m sure we can throw something in later,” I soothed.

“Alright, that sounds like a solid plan, let's do it!”

***

“Kay, hold still!”

“You just poked me in the eye with a tiny spindly brush covered in black gunk and you’re telling me to hold still? What, so you can blind me a second time?”

“It’s mascara, you sarcastic moo, and it’s your own fault you got poked. If you kept still and only blinked when I told you to it wouldn't have happened.”

“You can’t tell me how to blink.”

I gave her a look that said I’d smack her the second her back was turned. She, as always, was unphased.

“I saw what you did to Scott, you’re not making me look like a clown are you?”

“Lies!” I hissed. “I did no such thing! He looked beautiful, his eyes were blended to perfection and his cheekbones could have cut glass. It was Gordon that looked like he’d been drinking while playing with paint and that was down to Virgil, not me.”

“You both look beautiful,” Grandma smiled. “This is what I missed out on having only boys to look after, doing girls hair.” She continued to manhandle Kayo’s hair, brushing out her perpetual pony tail and attempting to twist it up at the back of her head into some kind of chignon that honestly was looking more like a deflated balloon had mated with a dead squirrel. “Why won’t this thing stay put?”

“I’ll fix it in a minute,” I promised as I brushed a little bronzer over the apples of Kayo’s cheeks, giving her already gorgeous tawny skin a little more depth. She had the nicest skin to work on, seeming to be unhindered by even the slightest of pores or blemishes, just perfect, the cow. Here’s me, I look at sugar or fat and I put on six pounds and have a breakout.

We had started by letting her do her own makeup while following my instructions as I did mine but Kayo is not the most delicate of creatures and when I spotted her stabbing a brush into the eyeshadow pallet, swirling it around like she was casting a Wingardium Leviosa and proceeding to scrub the colour (a startling shade of neon green) over her eyelid I’d called time. I ordered her to wash it all off and had taken over.

She didn't actually need much makeup, a little sweep of a dusky rose and darker brown over her eyelids, mascara to make her already long eyelashes stand out, a subtle dusting of bronzer, some loose powder to set it all and some burgundy lipstick and she was done. I took a lot more work to look that good.

Grandma had taken my makeup kit and helped herself, going for the classic blue eyeshadow, bright pink cheeks and vibrant red lips that had last been popular in the 1980’s. It didn't flatter her in the slightest but she was having a great time telling us all about how she had pictures of her mother with that look and she had thought that she looked so beautiful that she hadn't been able to resist trying it out. I couldn't talk, my habitual mashup of goth punk rocker with a side of geek wasn't exactly in keeping with the rest of the world either.

We dug through our wardrobes and selected possible outfits that we thought would do and held a mini fashion parade, allowing Grandma to make the final choices for what we would wear. Kayo’s evening wear selections seemed to mostly be made up of jumpsuits and Grandma eventually settled on one in black that had a sari style drape going over one shoulder that was accented in gold. I immediately made Kayo sit back down so I could accent her eyes with a little gold glitter eyeshadow powder to match.

Grandma seemed to be incapable of purchasing anything that wasn't purple, not that I could talk, it was one of my favorite colours too. She had chosen a nice, if slightly boxy looking, dress that stopped below the knee, with a rounded neck and no sleeves. She borrowed a black lace wrap from me and called it good.

Her hair had been growing out too and was a little too long to stay in its trademark flicked up end curls, so she allowed me to whip out the curling wand and give her a few waves that bounced happily around her face.

I fixed Kayo’s hair disaster at the same time, twisting it up from the nape of her neck, pinning it in place and then curling the ends which I’d left loose.

“You both look amazing, now wasn’t this fun?”

Kayo mumbled something that didn't sound quite like a yes but wasn't entirely negative either.

“Just for fun, shall we keep this on for dinner and surprise the boys?” I asked innocently.

Grandma grinned. “Oh yes, that would be great. You girls have really cheered me up today. We might not be going out for a nice meal, but this has been a close second.”

“When all this is over we’ll have a night out in London, we’ll drag the boys along, it’ll be great,” I promised as we made our way down to the kitchen.

“I thought you said the boys were handling dinner tonight?” she accused, looking at the table, currently bare of its usually after dinner debris of dirty plates and charred cooking dishes.

“Maybe they haven't started yet?” Kayo suggested.

“You have so little faith in us,” Scott announced from the doorway where he, Jeff and John stood. They had actually scrubbed up well, each foregoing their usual casual wear for a nice shirt -Scott and Jeff's were both white while John had chosen a midnight blue one- ties and smart trousers (we live on an island, it’s far too hot for jackets unless they wanted to sweat all night). they had even made an effort to try to neaten up their unruly hair. Their chins were still a disaster, the scruffy buggers, but at least they tried, it seemed that even a posh dinner wasn't a good enough reason to give up on an active competition.

“What are you boys up to?” Grandma asked suspiciously.

“We came to escort our guest of honour,” Jeff answered, offering her his arm and leading the way to the dining room.

The other boys looked just as well turned out, even Brains with his tufty regrowth on his head had dressed for the occasion, although his suit was a complete eyesore, a powder blue monstrosity with a ruffled shirt that looked as up to date as Grandma’s makeup, but bless him he tried.

Gordon was still wearing a hawaian print top, but it was a full shirt, with a real collar, and was tucked in to his trousers, which actually reached his ankles so I’d call that a win.

Alan was wearing a shirt that was just a little too large for him, obviously borrowed from one of the others but his trousers fit well. He had a properly knotted tie and looked so much older than he usually did, so smartly turned out, although he still managed to look adorable.

Virgil had on a mint green silk shirt and black suit trousers combo that should have made him look like a cheesy Vegas magician but he somehow managed to pull it off.

They had made the dining room look amazing, laying out the fancy china and real wine glasses, even lighting candles and piped through some soft classical music (I’m pretty sure I know who was responsible for that). The table held covered dishes that actually smelt edible and they had even hunted out some cloth napkins instead of the usual paper towel we used on a daily basis.

“You boys did all this?” Grandma gasped, seeing everything for the first time.

“We thought you could do with a night off from taking care of us,” Jeff told her, helping her into her chair.

“This all looks so nice and you boys look so handsome, although you'd look better without the face fuzz.”

“Small victories, Grandma, we got them to dress nice, we can’t ask for miracles,” I smiled.

She nodded, her eyes looking a little moist in the candle light but none of us dared to comment on it.

“We all thought you deserved some special treatment for looking after us all so well,” Virgil told her as he poured her a glass of wine and we took our seats.

Dinner was actually quite nice, it appeared that the boys had managed to cook without killing each other and follow the recipes, maybe finally realising that following instructions isn't always a bad thing had stuck with them.

They had stuck to simple but delicious dishes, a simple soup to start, followed by a nice italian style carbonara, garlic bread and crisp green salad, and apple pie with ice cream for dessert. Yeah, it probably wasn't something we’d have in a posh restaurant, but it had been made with love and I knew that that would mean more to her than anything.

Grandma was treated like the queen she was all night, being served first, her glass kept topped up and not allowed to lift a finger.

We refused to let her help clean up, insisting that she retire outside with Jeff to enjoy the beautiful night. We joined them after we finished taking everything to the kitchen, loading the dishwashers and hand washing a few delicate items.

We finished the evening with some of Virgil’s fancy coffee while they all reminisced and told stories of other family dinners.

She made sure to hug each and every one of us extra tight as she said goodnight, leaving us to finish the coffee and put ourselves to bed.

It had been a lot of work, but the smile on her face and the joy in her laughter had made it all worth it. That's what you have to do in times like these, make a special effort to look after those that look after you so selflessly, to show you care and that you appreciate them. These unusual times are hard on everyone, but we all know that if we stick together and do our best to think of others before we think of ourselves (something the International Rescue boys do everyday of their lives) then we can get through anything.

[whispersafterdusk]

Lost in Time - ch 15

"So what part of Lucien are you from?"

Harrison quickly adjusted the pillow behind him (padded and pillow'd booths were still something he was trying to adjust to - how did Django keep these clean and free of stains?) and then settled his hands back around the fragrant mug of tea in front of him.  "We used to live on the border near Duvos but were forced to move."

The girl - Lily - frowned.  "Oh.  Yeah, I...I hear that a lot."

"When you live so close to warmongers it's going to be a common story."

"Did your family stay in Lucien?"

Harrison nodded and took a sip of the tea before answering.  "We did.  We went from a farm to a small home on the opposite side of Lucien -- not enough room for a farm but big enough for my mother's pottery business to continue."

Lily's eyes lit up.  "Pottery?  Did she happen to be the one who made the little teapots with the lids shaped like wild flowers?"

"...yeah, actually," Harrison answered after a pause.  "You've seen them?" ((Continued below cut))

"Ha!  Seen them?  I owned four!" she giggled.  "I loved those things.  I love floral things in general...what with having the name Lily and all. My mother's name is Rose - you could say a love for all things flowery runs in the family."

He laughed with her at that, and again sipped from his tea; it was a black tea blend with a really intense flavor that he'd had to temper with more sugar than he was used to (it was still very delicious though).  "-I just wish the place had a bigger yard.  We owned six dogs when we had to move and there never seemed to be enough space for them to run around once we set up mom's workshop in the back yard."

"Aw..." Lily sighed.  "I always wanted a dog but my mother wouldn't let me have one."

"Ours were farm dogs - they kept predators away from the chickens and goats. We couldn't keep the chickens or goats but the dogs came with us when we moved."

Lily nodded and rocked back and forth for a moment with a dreamy look, then made a little popping noise with her mouth and turned her attention back to him.  "What was farm life like?  Did you have siblings to help out?  How many animals did you have?"

"Eh...it was a lot of work.  I had just turned seven when we moved so I didn't have to do a lot of it but I had an older brother and sister who both complained about having to get up so early to get chores done before school.  I had just gotten old enough to be trusted to feed the chickens each morning..."  He sighed -- he really missed the farm some days.   All that open space to romp around in, the rooster crowing each morning, the smell of freshly plowed dirt.  "How about you?"

"Mom and I lived in a small cottage on the western side of Lucien.  Close to the border with Duvos but not so close that we ever had any trouble.  OUR troubles always came from the Peripheries -- lots of random beasts would wander out of there every spring.  Mom would go drive them off or have to kill them and then we'd sell the meat and hides.  She also had this big flower and herb garden too and she'd sell dried and pressed flowers for scrap-booking and the herbs would go to local chefs."

"Were beasts actually that big of a problem?  I'd sometimes hear my schoolmates talking about big monsters but it always sounded...like just stories, you know?"

Lily lightly slapped her hands flat on the table, leaning toward him with her eyes wide.  "Stories?  Ha, no - you should see some of the things that wander out of that area.  Nothing that mom couldn't ever handle by herself but sometimes they made a really big mess."

Harrison nodded slowly at that, and for a moment his attention was caught by the steam curling up out of his mug; in a flash of imagination he pictured the steam curling out of the nostrils of some big beasty, and shuddered a bit.  "That must have been rough."

"I guess it was."

Lily paused as Sonia brought out the fruit salads they had ordered; someone with a broken ankle had come in to the clinic during Harrison's lunch break and he'd gotten back to eating much later than intended so he wasn't all that hungry but had ordered something anyway because it had seemed like Lily was going to forgo eating since he was.

"-do your parents and siblings still live at your new place? -- well, I guess it's not new now if they have been," Lily giggled.  She stuck a grape into her mouth and Harrison could hear it pop from across the table as she bit down.

"They do.  We've sort of dug in, you could say," he chuckled.  "Set down new roots and now they're in deep." He picked out a grape for himself and almost drooled when he chomped down; these were really, really juicy -- perfectly ripe.  Portia really had some of the best produce around. "-how about your family?"

"Mom's still holding down the fort," Lily mumbled around her mouthful of grape pulp. "I don't think anything could convince her to move...it's kind of annoying, really."

"Why's that?"

"Well..." Lily sighed heavily, swallowed, and then absently twirled her fork around with her fingers.  "...I don't know.  When I was younger she always seemed so bright and cheerful, and loved doing odd jobs that took her out and about to new places.  At some point though she came back totally changed and swapped over to pressing flowers and growing herbs.  Life...got a lot more difficult when she did that, both monetarily and just in general.  It's like a totally different person came home."

"Oh."

Lily shrugged and began picking the rest of the grapes out of the salad; Harrison tried to keep a neutral expression but inwardly he was sort of dying for having managed to make this awkward.

"It's not a big deal," Lily finally went on (after what felt like forever).  "Mom doesn't have the heart to travel anymore so I do instead.  Take back all sorts of trinkets and stories.  She seems to love that part so I keep doing it. It's pretty easy to find odd jobs everywhere so I can see how she managed to do it all the time."

"Yeah, neat," Harrison replied in a rush.  "I mean, uh - that's neat," he added after a moment, hoping he managed to get a more normal tone out this time.

She simply grinned at him and bit a bite of watermelon in half.  Some juice trickled down her chin; she didn't seem to notice.  They ate in silence for a bit; Harrison still felt ready to melt into his seat and disappear but Lily seemed at ease, and the fruit really was good.

Thankfully they managed some more small talk once they'd emptied their bowls -- when and why Harrison decided to become a doctor, more about his mom's pottery business (she asked him to ask his mother if she could hold a lily-patterned tea pot for her, and he promised to write to her about it), Lily's vast knowledge of flowers and their care, some of her traveling stories.  That earlier feeling of awkwardness had faded and was replaced with a light, giddy feeling of having met someone new (and someone who...apparently thought he was cute, which was its own sort of sensation that made his heart race a bit).

It was almost closing time by the time they'd paid and walked outside; there was a chilly breeze whistling down the street and Harrison zipped his coat up to the very top.

"How long will you be in Portia?"

Lily shrugged and tightened her scarf.  "I didn't plan on staying long but I think I'll stick around for awhile."  She flashed him a mischievous grin with that.  "Pretty good reason to."

Again he felt his ears burning.  "A-ah."

"Do you work every day at the clinic?"

"Not EVERY day, no, but most."

She nodded and bounced on the balls of her feel again.  "All right.  I'll come poking around again...maybe tomorrow?"

"I...think I'd like that, yeah." They smiled at one another and the burning in his ears spread across his face. "Where are you staying?"

She pointed across the way to Happy Apartments.  "There, for now.  I WAS camping out near the beach but I'm tired of how cold it's been.  And with my arm having a hole in it I wanted ready access to hot water so I could keep it clean."

She waggled her arm at him and he nodded - clean water, hot or not, was definitely better than unfiltered sea water to keep the wound free of infection.

"-oh, speaking of my arm, I had a...weird question."

"Hmm?"

She pursed her lips and hesitated, then huffed.  "So up in Atara I overheard folks talking about some kind of machine you had down here - something that surgically fixed things?"

Some kind of-- oh.  "You mean the Uplifter?"

"Not sure what it's called but maybe? Someone there was bragging about how it had fixed their split lip without even leaving a scar behind.  Does it...only work on faces?" Harrison nodded and her shoulders slumped.   "Well, poo.  So much for that idea."

"What...idea?  Were you wanting to try and use it on your arm?"

She nodded.  "Yeah.  I'm cleaning it like the doctor told me to and everything but I was hoping it could be...you know, fixed, without me having to deal with it for the next several weeks."

"Ah.  Y-yeah, unfortunately it's only designed to work on the neck and up."

"What's it do, then?"

"Uh..." Harrison shoved his hands into his pockets, thinking -- Xu hadn't formally taught him about the Uplifter just yet but he sort of knew a few things.  "It...repairs injuries, and I know it can alter things about your face.  It can also temporarily cause your hair to grow in a different color too."

Lily's eyes lit up at that.  "Different hair color?!  Really?"  She blew out a breath and looked up toward the sky, smiling.  "I've always wanted green or blue hair... But it only does it temporarily?"

"Yeah.  No idea how long it lasts - I haven't been taught much about it."

All of a sudden her expression froze and she looked to him wide-eyed.  "Hang on - you said it can ALTER your face?"

"Yeah.  Dr. Xu said he's used it to fix cleft lips and a few other facial birth defects on people from Atara and Ethea."

"How?"

"I have no idea," he sighed.  "It's a complex piece of machinery.  I guess if I read the manual I could figure out the science behind it but I doubt I'll be learning about it any time soon...or ever.  I won't have one when I become a doctor and strike out on my own so it might not be worth my time to learn about something I won't have access to later."

Lily's expression relaxed, as did the rest of her, and she rocked back and forth from toes to heels.  "That's a good point.  Kind of wild that something like that exists and used to exist in the Old World too... I bet Old World people had crazy hair colors," she giggled.

He opened his mouth to respond and then immediately closed it; right on the tip of his tongue was Eli's name and situation -- if anyone would be able to talk about hair color trends of the Old World she'd be the one. But...it seemed like it wasn't his place to tell anyone about her.   There was rumor enough floating around without him pointing more people toward her, and he'd seen her therapy sessions; it just...wouldn't be right to put more pressure on her right now.  She was a person, not a novelty.

"Either that or they were really terrible about not injuring their faces," he said finally.

Lily let out a laugh that ended in a snort; she clapped her hands to her mouth and blushed a bit (or maybe it was just the way the lights outside the Round Table lit her face - it was hard to tell).  "Ha- uh, eheh.   Sorry.  That just immediately made me think of an entire civilization of people with too-short doors banging their heads everywhere they went."

Harrison bit his lower lip to cut back on his laugh - that WAS a funny image.   "Maybe the doors were all normal-sized and Old World people were just really tall."

"Or bad at building doors!"

She started laughing again and Harrison let himself laugh along; even if he knew that was just goofy speculation it was still pretty amusing to picture.

Once she'd caught her breath she turned toward the Apartments in the distance.  "Ok.  So I'll see you at some point tomorrow?"

"Sure thing."

"All right!  Good night!"  She waved over her shoulder and headed off toward the apartment building.

Harrison waited and watched until she made it through the doors and inside, then let his feet carry him to Dr. Xu's house.  He had a few books to pick up before he returned to his own rented room at the Happy Apartments building.

Oh.  Maybe he should have mentioned he was staying there too.

Man...he was really bad at this.

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

Two more weeks and no sign of the spy.

At least by then Mali had come back and she'd helped Arlo, Remington, and Sam comb the entire Portian countryside again as well as most of the territory between here and Sandrock.

They'd found a few old campsites but the tracks were too muddled to tell who they belonged to; with Old Bob wandering around and tourists moving through Portia it just wasn't possible to positively confirm who had stayed where -- Eli, Asher, and Mali had worked out a rough "when" for the sites but it wasn't any help at determining the "who" part of it.  And that rope bridge that went underneath the waterfall was gone now too.

They were essentially at a dead end and it had Arlo frustrated; he hated the idea of danger lurking around Portia.  Maybe that spy was sent here to do exactly that - spy.  But what if they were sent to harm or steal something? They'd already taken one gun off the first spy...who knew what this semi-invisible person possibly had on them now that their presence was known?

They'd all spent a lot of time discussing tactics; for now they were going to ask Selene to design a sprinkler system to keep the area nice and muddy and also borrow some of the builder's fine wire and hide trip wires in the tallest grass attached to...well, they hadn't decided on that part yet but it was going to be something that could be easily hidden and also made a ton of noise if something shook it.  Since none of them could come up with anything that could overcome the suit's near-invisibility they would have to focus on what physical variables they could actually affect.

One decision they'd made that Arlo didn't agree with was what Eli called a "Stupid Plan" - capital S, capital P.  The logic, she explained, was that the spy knew that THEY knew the spy was around; they should assume that the spy would be carefully watching them for signs of vigilance and be purposely avoiding their search efforts.  The trick to getting the spy to lower their guard again was for the rest of them to pretend to be stupid: everyone goes "back to normal" and pretends to stop looking for them (with emphasis on pretend - they'd all of course still be as vigilant as they could without tipping their hand).

"If we can just convince this person that we're convinced they're gone," Eli had said, "then I bet they'll get bold and sloppy, just like how they got bold the night we first fought them."

It made a sort of sense in a way but Arlo didn't like the idea; he wasn't comfortable with pretending to let his guard down (mostly because he didn't know how to actually do that).  The Pigs, Sam, and Remington had been willing to give it a shot so he'd been outnumbered, though they'd at least all respected his concerns about it.

The one good thing out of the decision to enact the Stupid Plan was he and Eli were free to go back to their respective abodes and sleep in their own beds.  He didn't realize how much he'd missed his bed until he was back in it - no hard pillow beneath his head, no rough canvas surface of the cot under him, no carpet burns on his elbows from said canvas.  It felt like a shameful luxury to be back in a proper bed and he actually overslept the next morning.  By the time he'd dressed and hurried down to Selene's to meet the others for their newly restarted morning training sessions they were already halfway through the warm up exercises. It did make him feel a bit better to see Eli looked a little...not tired, but not exactly focused.  More like she could fall back asleep if she laid down somewhere.  

Adam was here today in Asher's place; he moved to a spot next to the man and started in with the rest of them as they swapped between exercises and stretches to warm them up for their run and the harder stuff afterward.

"Anything?" he grunted after a bit, glancing toward Adam.

"Nothing," came the answer.

Well...he supposed he wasn't surprised.  

It was nice to be back to training at least; Eli seemed to be going easy (easier) on them today.  They finished their warm ups, did their run, and came back to do the harder things but it felt shorter than he remembered it being.  Still...the combination of sore muscles, sweat, and a heightened heart rate felt good.  When they were done and had cooled off some Remington and Sam headed out to take up their old patrol routes; Adam left to, presumably, head back to the facility camp, leaving him and Eli alone in the yard.

As he watched she did some stretches (ones that were different than those she'd taught them) and then moved over to lean against the fence and stare out into the fields; he glanced out that way too -- there were barren trees, bushes, and a few llamas out there that were picking at the first green shoots coming up.  With the spring melt finally upon them the bushes and trees would be budding soon and there'd be more out there aside from the isolated spots of hardy herbs that, somehow, managed to survive and grow even in freezing temperatures.

"I have to be honest," he said into the silence.  Eli shifted just enough that he knew she was listening but not so much that she was looking at him.  "I have no idea how to act like I'm not aware of my surroundings.  That's probably going to be the hardest part about all of this for me."

"Want to learn?"

He came up to stand beside her at the fence and eyed a couple of llamas as they suddenly burst into a hopping fit, bouncing around one another for a few moments before going back to grazing.  "How exactly do you teach something like that?"

"It's not hard - you just have to learn new ways to pay attention without paying attention."

She looked over to him with a smug smirk; he blew out a sigh but smiled.   "I'm guessing it's something I have to be shown that can't really be explained."

"More or less, yeah."

"I guess the next question is when would you want to start?"

She shrugged.  "Can be anytime we're both free.  It's not something that's easy to teach so you're going to need a lot of time to dedicate to it."

Arlo nodded; his schedule was back to normal now that they were acting out the Stupid Plan.  "We can make it work."

Out in the fields there was suddenly the noise of startled llamas; Arlo shifted his attention from Eli back out to the animals and could see a pair of figures walking in the fields.  He squinted that way and it took him a moment to realize it was Dr. Xu and...someone else.  Probably that student of his.  Xu had what he thought was a basket over one arm and seemed to be gesturing at the little dots of bright green among the brown, soggy grasses.  His student nodded and walked over to bend down over one of the green spots and began to carefully remove bits and pieces and hand them up to Xu -- Arlo knew the doctor went on walks to collect whatever freshly growing plants he could find, even in the dead of winter, so it seemed they were observing one of those.  

Movement from the south caught his eye then and he saw someone approaching the two in the fields; whoever it was was bundled up in a heavy coat and had a scarf on -- it looked to be a woman, but not anyone Arlo recognized. She waved at the two in the field and the student waved back (what had been his name?  It started with an H...Arlo had only met him once and now he couldn't remember the man's name).  Whoever the woman was didn't stick around long: she greeted them, very briefly talked to them, then continued on back toward Portia.

"Any idea who that is?"

Eli shook her head.  "Nope.  I've seen her walking around town but I've not talked to her myself.  Guess I can ask Dr. Xu at my next therapy session."

Arlo nodded, then looked over to her.  "...I don't want to make you uncomfortable with personal questions, but..."

A faint smile crossed her face; this time she did turn her head to look at him.  "How's it going?  It's...going.  Some days are better than others but overall it's getting easier.  Time heals all wounds as they say."

"I'm glad to hear it."  He turned to put his back against the fence and leaned.  "There's a holiday coming up - Day of the Bright Sun.  I bet a lot of people would like to see you there."

"What's the holiday for?"

"Have you heard of or read about Peach yet?"

She nodded.  "That's the guy who invented some machine that got rid of the clouds in the sky, right?"

"Right.  It's a holiday to celebrate the sun returning.  We spend the week leading up to it wrapping gifts and delivering them to city hall, and on the day of the holiday the gifts are dropped all over town from an airship that flies over Portia."

Eli raised an eyebrow at that.   "Not sure which is harder to believe - air-dropped presents or the fact an airship still exists."

"It-" Arlo paused, thinking on how to word it.  "-it's probably not the type of airship you might be thinking of."

"I'd hope not.  Airships were bigger than Portia is."

"Really?" he asked; she nodded, and he shook his head.  "Hard to picture...  But ah, no.  This airship isn't all that big.  Not much bigger than Mali's plane, to be honest."

"Is this a sort of buy in thing to participate then?"

"Buy in?"

"Do I have to give gifts to be able to receive any?"

"Not..." Again he paused.  "Not really?  I don't think there's any actual rule about it.  Why?"

"I'm not the greatest at choosing gifts - especially not for people I hardly know.  And I don't want to receive something if I didn't give someone a gift."

"Oh, don't worry about that.  Everyone gives something - usually several things - even if it's just small trinkets or even raw materials of some kind, and the gifts don't have anyone's names except for the giver on them.  Just last year a pair of gifts I received were a bouquet of flowers and a roll of cotton fabric -- it's sort of a crap shoot for what you might get."

Eli nodded slowly, wrinkling her nose. "Well, if I'm not buying for specific people that makes it a lot easier in that regard.  A lot less awkward too, since I'm not physically giving them out myself."

"Nope.  Just catch presents falling from the sky."

"Sounds...interesting, then.  I'd at least show up for the novelty."

He smiled at her.  "And companionship, I'd hope."

She returned the smile.  "Yeah, yeah, that too."  With a small grunt she straightened and dusted her hands off.  "I'll add gift shopping onto my To Do list.  Let me know when you next have some free time and we can start in on teaching you a few new tricks."

"I'm free now if you are."

He watched as she turned to head toward the opposite side of the yard where the gate to the road was; after a breath or two he followed her -- what else was he supposed to do?

"Now's good, I guess.  Without turning around, how many llamas were out on the field?"

"Uh."  Arlo slowed to a stop; the urge to turn around or at least peek was strong but she'd specifically told him NOT to do that.  "...five?"

"Seven.  How many bushes were out there?"

"Si...six?"

"Four."

He blew out a sigh and started to follow along behind her again.  "I'm guessing my first lesson is to assess everything I see?"

"The idea is to sort of...absorb it without actively counting or noting things.  Things like numbers, patterns, colors, people, details of places, sounds and what directions things are coming from or moving in. Take it all in, in a glance or two, and be able to recall it quickly."

"Right..."  Ahead of him Eli headed out of the gate and then waited, holding it open for him.  "Well.  I'm up for the challenge."

She just smiled and led the way down the road.

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

Something about the sound of the airship overhead was distinctly...uncomfortable.

Not enough that it wasn't something she could tolerate but enough that she could feel anxiety and a bit of fear just beneath the surface; with it came an urge to duck into cover, or to otherwise get out of sight. Eli couldn't recall ever hearing something like it but clearly her subconscious did, and inside her head a small alarm system was starting to blare.

She'd been standing with the crowd of townsfolk only moments ago but the arrival of the airship had sent them all into a stumbling jog together as a group, laughing and lightly jostling one another; no one stopped unless they'd actually managed to snag a present and then those persons hung back to let the group run ahead and get a head start on the rest of the falling presents.

Eli wasn't anywhere near enough to catch any, and at the moment she didn't particularly care.

 I'm FINE.  I'm fine.  There's no danger here.

She kept it going as a little mantra in her head and forced herself to focus on the spectacle of an entire town catching things raining out of the sky.  Sam had said the airship swept across the city and then out to the fields; it should be out of sight and range soon.

Sucking in a breath she scanned her surroundings; a ginger-haired woman with a parasol and Gust were still here, as was Gale.  They were walking at a slow pace, talking and laughing amongst themselves, and hadn't seemed to notice she'd lingered.

She should...probably move.  To avoid drawing attention to herself.  This wasn't something she wanted to try and explain to anyone - especially not on a holiday.  Let them have their festivities and fun...no reason to bring the mood down.

Of course that meant following the source of the sound.

 Come on.  I can handle this.  It won't be much longer.

It took another breath or two to urge herself into a slow walk, heading off after the crowd.  Here and there in the street were bows and ribbons - she assumed they'd fallen off the gifts since she was still trying to wrap her head around how the presents could survive falling from such a height.  Did shock foam persist through the ages?  Maybe she could get a look at a box later.

The crowd was at the far side of the plaza ahead - the one with the big tree in the middle.  Eli glanced up and traced the path of a package that was wrapped in bright orange paper with white ribbon; it suddenly hit her that those looked an awful lot like New Year's Dawn presents.  A holiday that didn't exist anymore...one she'd never experience again.  No presents, no family dinners, no games, no costume parties...

Simultaneously she felt a heavy weight settle in her gut coupled with the sensation of her stomach twisting into a knot, followed by a familiar hot prickle behind her eyes.  Abruptly she stopped and spun on her heel, fully intending to retreat as quickly as possible back to her room.  In a split instant she realized Asher had been walking up behind her - it was clear he'd been trying to catch up to her and her sudden reversal of direction had caught him by surprise while also nearly bowling him over.

"Whoa-" Asher stumbled a bit as he tried to put some space between them.

"Sorry.  What's up?" she asked quickly.  She side-stepped him and looked up the street -- no one was in sight now.  Good.  She could still make an escape.

"Uh." His eyes were on her as she moved.  "-is something wrong?"

In the moment Eli knew she could just lie and say everything was fine; the problem was if he could already see it on her face then it'd be pointless to try and hide it now.  With a deep breath she rubbed at the bridge of her nose.  "Yes.  Sort of. I just need to get some distance between me and here."

With that she started walking; it was a little difficult to hear him over the sound of the airship but after a pause Asher's footsteps hurried after her.

"At the risk of sounding insensitive, what's the exact problem?"

"Dunno," she replied.  "Just something about that sound is...not good."

He sped up until he matched her speed and then walked at her side.   "Gotcha.  Um.  Let's -- have you seen the hot spring retreat?  We can catch the Dee-Dee up there and it ought to be far enough away you won't hear the airship."

"I hope you're not expecting me to actually utilize the springs."

"No, I wasn't thinking that.  That's just the first location that's within quick and easy reach that I could think of that would also be fairly quiet."

"I could just go home."

"Do you want to be shut in a room at the moment?"

Eli sighed and squeezed her eyes shut; what she wanted, right now, was to be normal and at the festival, holiday, whatever-it-was in the plaza.   Which...after that airship left, maybe she could go back. Maybe. Her obvious lack of caught gifts might invite questions she'd rather discuss with Dr. Xu first though, so maybe not.

Luckily as they came within sight of the Dee-Dee stop the Dee-Dee was only ten yards down the road; Asher waved at it and the driver stopped and waited for them to jog down to the stop instead of continuing on.  The hum of the Dee-Dee motor seemed a little more familiar, if a bit rougher than she was accustomed to, and it helped a bit to drown out the airship's rumble.   It was a short drive up to the retreat and, as Asher had said, it was way quieter -- she could barely detect the airship from here, and once they were standing on the dock that surrounded the little inset pool meant for the hot spring patrons to sit in there was the lapping of water and a bubbling noise as well.

Now that the "danger," according to her brain, was gone she could feel a bit of tension draining away and leaving what felt like a gaping, empty ache behind her right eye.  Asher found and unfolded a pair of fabric deck chairs and set them up facing the west, away from Portia and any chance of spotting the airship.  Eli dropped into one and ground the heels of her palms into her eyes.

"So."  She had to clear her throat and try again.  "-so, was there something you needed?"

Asher lowered himself into the other chair but didn't lean back.  "Not in particular.  Mali wanted to talk to Arlo and I was asked to play messenger but since he's busy with the holiday she wasn't expecting him to go rushing out."

"Don't let me keep you from an errand.  I'll be fine."

He waved a hand dismissively.  "They can wait.  Unless you're wanting me to leave."  With that he looked over to her.

She blew out a long sigh.  "I don't know what I want.  Well, I do.  But none of what I want is possible.  I want to go home.  I want to hug my husband and parents again.  I want to see my squad.  Some days I wake up and I'm perfectly fine with the thought that all that's gone and there's nothing I can do about it...other days, you just have to press on and act like you're fine."

Asher bowed his head slightly, resting his chin on his fists with his elbows braced against the hard wood of the arms of the deck chair.  "I wish there was something I could do, or say, to help with it all.  Sometimes being human seems like a waste, doesn't it?  Brains we don't have control over stirring us up and making someone think or feel things they probably wouldn't choose to otherwise."

Eli managed a very faint smile.  "I definitely can think of better emotions to be stuck with, yes."  She let out another heavy sigh and rubbed at her temples - the ache was spreading across the front of her head, through the forehead area and behind both eyes now. "I think I have a slight edge in that part of ranger training was focusing on instinct and logic and forgoing most emotional reactions.   We were...always ready for it to go to hell.  You had to be ready to switch off the emotional part of your brain and get shit done at any moment.  I think my 300 year long nap damaged that switch, or maybe this is just too much to switch off whenever I want to."

Asher nodded at her but didn't say anything; they both went quiet and Eli focused her attention on the details and soft noises around her: the wind, the bubbling of the spring, the small waves caused by the bubbles hitting the pilings that supported the dock.  A few times she heard faint birdsong.  There was a small building on the dock that she assumed held whatever was needed for the hot springs business; it was partially blocking the wind coming off the fields so the steam off the springs was actually making it a bit too warm for her liking.  She thought of taking her jacket off but didn't want her shirt to get damp.

Without any other option Eli just sat and steamed inside her coat until every last hint of sound of the airship was gone; after giving it a few minutes more she stood up and turned to look toward Portia -- at least from here it seemed like the airship was actually gone.  

There was the creaking of a deck chair to her right and out of the corner of an eye Eli could just make out Asher standing up.

"Are you ready to head back?"

"I think so.  It seems pretty quiet."

He studied her a moment.  "Are you wanting to go back to the celebration, or just head home?"

"We'll see how I feel when I'm at the gate again."

They put the deck chairs away and headed back toward the Dee-Dee stop to wait for the next one to drive by.

"...as embarrassing and awkward as this was...  Thanks."

Asher flashed her a gap-toothed grin.  "You're welcome.  Have to earn my keep somehow."

She snorted and shook her head.  "Typically 'friend' is not a salaried position."

"Good job security, at least."

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

Everyone around him was buzzing with excitement and chattering over the gifts they'd gotten this year; Arlo had gotten a neat looking woven wristband in purples and greens (no name on it so no idea who had given it) along with a new bronze blade from Django, and (purely by accident, since his third gift had technically been caught up in the tree without anyone noticing until it fell out and hit him as he was walking by) a nice woolen blanket from Sophie.

The box that the blanket had come in was a tad too bulky to comfortably carry around so he had it sitting on the bench beside him as he stood off to the side of the Research Center; everyone was beginning to break off in small groups to go take photos together, and he knew that once Sam and Remington had done whatever personal ones they wanted to take that they'd be looking for him so they could all take their yearly Civil Corps picture together.

Skimming the crowd Arlo couldn't help but feel a bit sad that he didn't see Eli anywhere; he had the urge to go walking around to see if he'd just overlooked her somehow but knew it'd be easier for Remington and Sam to find him if he stayed put.

He knew that logically it was going to take time for Eli to feel fully welcome, and like she fully fit in...still, he couldn't help but feel like he was at fault in some way. Should he have personally invited her along, instead of leaving it open?  But then would it seem like he was being overbearing or guilting her into something she didn't want to do?  There were times he held back out of worry that he was about to be too pushy but perhaps that instead was making him look too distant?

"Arloooooo-"

At the shout he looked up sharply only to see a mob of children heading his way - the triplets, Jack, and Toby at their head.  

"No need to yell.  What do you need?"

Toby walked up and let the boxes he was carrying drop to the ground in a heap.  "Have you seen Eli?  We can't find her anywhere."

Hm.  So that confirmed that she just wasn't here rather than he'd somehow missed her.  "I haven't, sorry."

Toby huffed out a sigh.  "Guess we'll keep looking.  Mayor Gale let us grab some extra presents for her since no one had seen her and we wanna give them to her."

Arlo looked the kids over; the boxes at Toby's feet had been opened, as were the three boxes Jack was toting.  Each of the triplets had two opened boxes each but they also all carried one extra, unopened gift.  "That's very nice of you kids to do that."

"Guess we can check if she's at home," Jack said.  Toby nodded and scooped up his opened gifts.

"Try not to bombard her," Arlo called after them as they started to head off up the street.

"What was that all about?"

Arlo turned to see Sam standing there.  "They're looking for Eli.  Don't suppose you've seen her today?"

"Not since the very start," Sam answered.  "She was with everyone when the airship started its pass.  You don't think something happened to call her away, do you?"

He frowned; that hadn't crossed his mind, actually.  "...I hope not.  We should go check - have you seen Remington?"

"Selene cornered him for a few pictures but he should be free here in a few."

With a nod Arlo turned around and looked over the blanket box; there was a recycle bin at the bench near the base of the tree.  He first took the bronze sword out of its box and fastened its clip to one of the straps on his jacket, then slipped the sword into place until he heard it click securely.  Next he took the blanket out of the box and tossed it over his shoulder; it didn't take long to walk over to the recycle bin and deposit the boxes, and by then Remington had spotted them and they all met up at the barbershop.

"Do we have trouble?" Remington asked once he'd reached them.

"Possibly," Sam replied.  "Seems Eli disappeared right as the airship started its flight over town - we're worried something might have called her away so we're headed out to the facility to go looking for her."

Arlo nodded (even though they hadn't discussed the 'facility' part - it made sense to head in that direction so he wasn't going to try and correct her).  "If you're done here let's head out."

Remington gave a curt nod and the three of them turned to head up the street; once they'd crested the hill and arrived in Peach Plaza they, to their surprise, spied Eli -- she was standing with Asher and the five kids were huddled around them near Peach's statue.

"-well that's good news," Sam said after a pause.  "If she AND Asher are both here then there's probably nothing wrong."

"At the facility," Arlo added.  He looked between the two of them.  "There might be something else wrong, if you catch my meaning."

Remington frowned.  "Hmm.  Yeah...could be.  I bet this reminds her of a holiday back in her own time.  Bad memories."

Sam matched his frown.  "Didn't think about that.  ...well, let's go see."

Arlo walked with them up toward the group around Eli; Asher caught his eye and flashed them an 'OK' signal discretely, which Arlo acknowledged with quick jerk of his head.

"-AND," Toby was saying, as they got within earshot.  "Look!  I kept my grades up just like I said I would!"

The three unopened gifts were sitting in a small stack at Eli's feet; Arlo watched as Eli turned her attention to a square of paper Toby was waving around.  Finally she managed to grab it out of his hands and hold it still so she could read it and after a moment she nodded and handed it back.

"All right, fair enough - you did like you promised your mother you'd do.  So now, once your mother says it's ok to start, I'll start teaching you.  But only when your mother says so," Eli said, emphasizing the last part.

"Man, this is going to be great!" Toby squealed.  He stuffed the report card back into his jacket pocket and spun around, taking off in a sprint only to collide with Remington.   "-oof, sorry!"

Remington helped get him steady on his feet and then wisely stood aside as the boy took off running again.  "It's fine just-" and then, rather than finishing his sentence, just shrugged with an amused look as Toby was already mostly out of sight.

The other kids giggled and said their goodbyes and headed off to follow Toby (though at a much slower speed), leaving the five adults to look to one another.

"We were worried when we didn't see you," Remington finally said.  

Eli smiled faintly; Arlo thought she looked tired.

"I'm fine.  Just had to step away to get some air," she replied.  Her attention flicked down to the gifts at her feet, and then Arlo was almost certain she looked at the wristband he was wearing; the smile got a little deeper and he had an inkling as to who had given the gift without putting their name on it.  "Was nice of them to think of me like that."

"They wanted to make sure you got something," Arlo said.  "You were missed today."

Something flickered across her face but the smile came right back.  "Ha, c'mon - you're going to make me blush."

As she talked there was something written on Asher's face but Arlo couldn't read it well - it was something like thinly disguised concern, he thought.  It seemed to him like Eli hadn't just stepped away for air...but what had happened?

Asher noticed Arlo studying him and the odd look went away, replaced with a smile of his own.  "Well! Now that that's taken care of, what say we all head down to what's left of the festivities?"

"It's just pictures left, and then the town photo," Sam said.  "If we hurry we might be able to get one or two in before the big one."

Eli's brow furrowed.  "Another town photo?  Is that just...something that's done at every holiday?"

"Mostly," Remington chuckled.  "We do like our photographs here in Portia."

After a pause Eli nodded at that.  "I guess some things don't change -- ah, er.  I mean, people's desire to document things don't.  There's no conceiveable way that ANY city in my time could have ever gathered together for one big group photo where you could still even tell it WAS people."

She bent to pick up the gifts; Arlo stepped over to her and offered a hand.  "Want to open those before you head down?"

"Oh.  Guess I should, yeah."  

Arlo took two of the gifts off her hands and stood there while she balanced the third one on top of them.  The first box opened revealed a finely carved crystal inside a delicate wire filigree that was strung on a leather tie -- something Arlo immediately recognized because HE'D been the one that had bought that one from a traveling craftsman months ago and given over to city hall as one of his gifts.

When she flipped the tag over to read it Arlo saw her expression soften a bit, and the smile grew.  "Ha - interesting twist of fate, that."

"Y-yeah, I guess," he laughed quietly.  "Is the wristband something you...?"

"Saw me looking at it, huh?" she said as she tied the crystal necklace on.   "I couldn't figure out what to buy so I made a couple things.  Funny we got one another's gifts."

"Better than getting one of your own?" Sam offered.  She looked amused but also admiring of the necklace.   "Where'd you even get that?"

"I'll tell you later," Arlo answered.  He swapped one of Eli's unopened gifts with the empty box and stood there holding her last one while she opened the considerably larger box.

Inside was a pot (plastic, but painted with a gorgeous geometric pattern) with a healthy looking asteria plant in it with a tag from Alice attached to it; Arlo again swapped out her last gift with the empty box and then, as she was opening it, began to carefully break the boxes down so they could go into the recycle bin.  Inside the last box was a copy of Journey to the East, from Django.

Eli turned the book over in her hands.  "Huh...I remember a book by this name existing back in my day.  I wonder if this is the same story."

"Only one way to find out," Remington said with a grin.  He gently clapped a hand to Eli's shoulder and looked down the street.  "Why don't we all go get one photo squeezed in?"

"Sure."  Eli tucked the took under an armpit and carried the potted asteria in the same arm.

Arlo quickly collapsed the book the book had been in and deposited them in the recycle bin as they passed by; they had their picture taken together just outside of Portia's gates then hurried back inside to get on the riser for the town photo.

"How about dinner?" Asher asked once the picture was taken.  "We can all squeeze into a booth, probably."

"Didn't you have a message for Arlo?" Eli asked dryly.

Asher shrugged.  "I'm getting to it.  Mali stressed that it wasn't any rush."

Arlo looked over at him.  "What?"

"Mali wants to talk to you, when you've got time.  She specifically said it's not anything immediately important because she didn't want to interrupt your holiday.  So, let's go get dinner, then you and I-" he said, pausing to waggle thumb between himself and Arlo, "-can take them some dinner and see what Mali wanted."

"Assuming we can get into the Round Table," Sam said with a smirk and a nod of her head toward the crowd of people walking toward the restaurant.

Asher shrugged again and grabbed the elbows of Remington and Eli.  "Then let's get moving so we don't get shut out."  He began to pull them along with him, and Sam and Arlo followed.

They did manage to get a table, with Remington and Sam on one side and Eli sandwiched between Asher and Arlo on the other.  Arlo found it...a bit suspect, that it always seemed like Asher found a spot next to Eli; it wasn't his business but it stood out to him in a way he thought he should remember.

It looked like Eli's first lesson on noticing things had already sunk in.

[eldritchtickles]

This is the fic for that request I got sent a little while ago for a tickly ic between Fjord and Caduceus of Critical Role! Honestly I haven’t written anything in so long, but this was super fun to do. And while I’ve like 2 weeks of nothing to do, maybe do some more if people are interested! I also added Jester into the fray just for the sheer energy she brings lmao. Hope yous enjoy!

Insight Check

Fandom: Critical Role

Word Count: 1558

Caduceus was a perceptive person, everyone knew that. He wasn’t nosy or anything of the sort, he just took in things that grabbed his attention. A flower in bloom, growing slowly into something beautiful. A new type of fungus growing on the side of the road that he hadn’t seen before, doing its very important job of bringing those plants that had went to the other side back into the embrace of the Wild Mother to be reused. Sometimes it was more in people. Seeing Caleb and Nott’s private conversations and purposefully keeping out their whispers from his ears, or maybe a pining look from Beau to Jester that she imagined no one else would ever notice.

Today as the firbolg was making some tea by the campfire, he couldn’t help but notice a brooding figure on the edges of the Nein’s camp. He smiled softly, listening to the arguments and jokes the rest of the party was involved in as he made his way over to the sullen half-orc looking out into the darkness of the night. The Mighty Nein was making their way back from the Menagerie Coast and toward the Empire for the next leg of their journey, and the soft sounds of distant lapping waves still reached the camp.

“Hope you don’t mind me joining you Mr. Fjord”, Caduceus said, before sitting cross legged beside the man. “I brought you some tea.”

“Oh, Caduceus!”. Fjord immediately replaced his sullen expression with a soft smile, taking the cup from the taller man’s hand and blowing the steam away. “Thanks, I could probably use it right about now..”

Before Cad had a chance to pry further, the excited bounding of feet approached the duo with a shout.

“Caduceuuuuuuuus, can I have some tea too?”, the ever joyous Jester shouted as she ran over to them. She had taken off her armour in preparation for bed, as the other two had done.

“Heh, of course you can.”, the firbolg said, pouring another cup for his blue skinned compatriot. “It’s from the Esren family, they always make a nice blend.”

The three sat and chatted for a little bit, sipping their tea as Jester recounted tales of The Traveller and his amazing miracles while Cad and Fjord shared knowing glances over cups when Jester added her usual embellishments. Though Caduceus’ natural insight kicked in as always, catching the sad, almost fearful glances Fjord cast to the ocean a bit away. With his close relationship to the Wild Mother, Caduceus could hardly imagine what it would be like being tied to a being of such malice as Uk’otoa… 

“And THEN”, Jester continued, showing her latest drawings of the day, depicting Frumpkin doing a little dance. “Caleb sent Frumpkin to cheer up Beau with a little dance, but she only reeeaaaally started giggling and smiling when his little whiskers nuzzled into her neck and it was so cute, and after that-“

Hm. Caduceus had seen that happen too… It did cheer up her usual demeanour, even if it was because of a little tickle.

Oh, hang on. That could work! With a sly smile not often seen on the pastel cleric’s face, he sidled up to Fjord side and continued to listen to his fellow cleric’s enthusiastic storytelling.

“That’s nice Jester, sounds like you’ve had a real fun day!”, Caduceus laughed, ruffling her hair as the tiefling giggled with a big smile up to him. Then he looked to Fjord, who had once again went into his own thoughts out at sea. “Mr. Fjord, are you even listening to Jester’s stories?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah course I- AH!!”

Fjord got quite the surprise when suddenly, he felt Caduceus’ giant fingers scribbling along his ribs through his thin shirt. He just managed to hold in a chuckle before he leaned away from the hand assaulting him. He could feel his face flush at his almost outburst, before it went an even deeper green hearing Jester’s gasp.

“Fjord!!”, the girl gasped, eyes alight with wonder before a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes and her lips gave a teasing grin. “Are you ticklish~?”

Before Fjord could stumble over his words to try find an out of this situation, he felt Cad wrap an arm around his shoulder and pull him in close.

“Don’t tease Mr. Fjord, he just got surprised is all. Should’ve maybe tapped you on the shoulder instead hm?”, Clay said, looking down on Fjord with a soft smile. Fjord didn’t trust that smile… But the cleric was hard to read at the best of times. So instead he just leaned into his friend’s arm, happy at least for the warmth.

“Yeah, that’s right.. Sorry Jess, go on. I’m listening!”

Jester side eyed the two boys across from her suspiciously, but continued her story nonetheless. Fjord on the other hand tried to be as attentive as he could as Cad talked away to the blue tiefling.

“And do cupcakes have to be there to help The Traveller?”

“Obviously they do Caduceus! They need to be tasty, and delicious, and-“

“Ah!! Caduhuhuhuceues, lemme gohohoho!!”, Fjord suddenly shouted, squirming around half in the other man’s lap.

“Could you quiet down? Ms. Jester and I are trying to have a conversation~.”, Caduceus said with a teasing lilt to his voice. He talked as if he wasn’t aware of his fingers scurrying around Fjord’s tummy and sides, scribbling and squeezing the warlock’s apparently sensitive flanks. “Go on Jester, I’m listening.”

Jester watched Cad shoot his fingers under the half-orc’s arms, before wiggling his fingers all around which earned a spluttering laugh from his mouth. Caduceus kept up his conversation with his fellow cleric, looking down every now and then to the giggling boy in his lap to shush him. Jester, being a cleric of a trickery god, was more than happy to join in.

“Yeah Fjord, keep it down!”, she giggled, delivering a few pokes to his tummy that brought an embarrassing cackle before he swatted at her hands. “You’re not too ticklish for this conversation are you~? Gods, you’re so giggly!”

“J-Jester dohohon’t encourage hihihIHIHIHI HEHEHEY!!”, Fjord shouted, before falling back against Cad’s chest as Jester’s almost talon like tiefling fingers vibrated between his ribs. Still Caduceus dug in under his arms, finding that harder tickles worked well on the poor green skin. “DOUBLE TEHEHEHEAM IS FUCKIN’ CHEHEHEHEATING AND YOU BOHOHOTH KNOW IT!!”

“Aw, c’mon now don’t be like that.”, Caduceus laughed, nuzzling his cheek into Fjord as his pastel pink beard brushed ticklishly off his ears. “You’ve been mopey all day, we’re just trying to cheer you up is all!”

“IHIHIHI’M FIHIHIHINE, NOW GEHEHEHET!!”, the warlock shouted, but Caduceus knew better. After all, he was fairly insightful. He watched as Fjord’s hands latched on to Jester’s wrists, but didn’t actually push away. He squirmed in Cad’s lap, but didn’t roll away. But the most telling of all signs… Not once had the giggly half-orc said stop.He was enjoying it~.

“Ooh what about here~?”, Jester squealed, fingers darting to squeeze Fjord’s thighs with quick, repetitive pinches.

“No no Jester, I think here is better.”, Caduceus chimed in, large firbolg fingers wrapping around his companion’s waist to squeeze and dig in to his hips.

The combined effort of two holy clerics on one poor pact tied warlock was too much for the man, as his deep belly laughter started to become interspersed with the most embarrassing of shrieks and whines. Tears started to well in the corners of his eyes as his legs kicked to dislodge the clawed fingers latched to his legs, to no avail. His hands shot to hold on to Caduceus’, but didn’t push them off yet again. The grave cleric smiled fondly down at the laughing, genuinely happy face of his friend. He was proud of his work here.

“YOHOHOHOHOU TWO- EEEHEHEHAHAHAHA!! AHAHAHARE SOOOO GETTING IHIHIHIT!!”

“Alright, alright… You’ve had enough here tough guy~”, the firblog said before releasing his wiling captive. Jester let go too, albeit more reluctantly. As soon as they did, Fjord slumped against the chest of the taller man with an unrestrained happy grin.

“Now, you feeling better Mr. Fjord?”

“Yeah, you gonna stop being grumpy and sad and stuff now?”, Jester asked, a devilish smirk on her face.

“Phew…. Ha… Yeah, almost…”, Fjord huffed, making his way off of Caduceus and between the two clerics with an embarrassed glance to Cad, who just smiled back sweetly.

“ALMOST?!”, Jester cried incredulously, scooting closer to Fjord and Cad. “What more could you need?!”

“Well, for one…”

Suddenly, Fjord pushed both the healers to the ground with a surprised squeak from Jester and a cheerful laugh from Caduceus. Just as quickly, his nimble sailor’s fingers dug in to both their tummies with squeezes, spidering, clawing, and poking. Jester was lost in a flurry of wild, girly giggles as she rocked side to side, sweet little snorts and squeaks filling the spaces between breaths. Caduceus lay there and laughed freely, curling up slightly but without a speck of fight against this onslaught.

“I’ll be much better when I get my revenge on you two dumbasses~”, Fjord laughed, smiling wide down at his two previous assailants with tusks on show.

Caduceus had seen this coming a mile away. But who was he to deny his friends a bit of fun?

[mamep]

The Forging of the Legend: A Prologue to The Legend of Zelda

I wrote an almost-8,000 word fanfic to try and give the original Legend of Zelda game some context and backstory. Also, it’s my first real fanfic. While I did add a handful of things that were not mentioned at all in the original two games and their accompanying material, this story diverges from the source material in a couple of small ways.

It can also be read on AO3, linked here! Otherwise, it’s below the cutoff.

(CW: graphic violence, mild gore, warfare)

”The Forging of the Legend”

by mamep

--

“One, two!” a man said, his voice matched with the strikes of his wooden sword. “Link, keep your eyes up!” He laughed alongside the forest’s summer breeze. Eventually, the man raised his weapon up high, and the boy froze at the sight. It was too heavy, too quick, and the boy was disarmed with the blow landing on his shoulder.

Link was only ten years old and could barely keep up with his father’s sweeping attacks, who stood over him with the end of his wooden sword put in the ground, offering his hand. Link took hold of it, and was pulled up faster than he expected, almost losing his breath just as quickly as when he was blown back.

“That was too fast,” Link said, still grimacing and holding his left shoulder. “Can we take a break?”

“Of course,” said his father, “but not for too long. Here, have a swig of this.” Reaching behind his back, he gave his son a waterskin, unlatching the top. Link noticed it wasn’t the waterskin at front of his belt that he usually drank from. “Come on now, we haven’t got all day.”

Link gingerly took a sip from it, reeling from the aftertaste.

“Haha! It’ll do that to you,” his father said. “Alright, show it to me.”

The boy pulled back the sleeve of his olive roughspun tunic, revealing the fresh bruise on his shoulder, just starting to redden.

“It tingles,” Link said. “But it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

The boy’s father smirked. “It’s special water, from a spring deep in the woods. They say it’s got fairy dust mixed in, and it’s handy for pain and wounds.”

“It tastes funny,” Link mumbled, paying little attention, but he drank again.

“Alright, alright! Not too much!” the boy’s father said, taking the waterskin back. “I went through a lot of trouble getting to that spring. Come on, let’s continue.”

“Father, why do we have to do this?” Link groaned. The water healed his shoulder, but the young boy was still tired, and there was yet target practice after this.

Link’s father lost his smile in the wind, and he knelt down to match his son’s height. “Because I fear for you, my boy. You must be able to protect yourself, to not fall in the face of danger. Courage when it matters most.”

Link could only stare back into his father’s eyes, wondering at what he meant.

__

High in a tower of the decrepit Hyrule Castle stood Princess Zelda, looking over her realm from a small balcony. The sun shone brightly, revealing all from the crags of the Death Mountain Range to the glimmering coasts of the Great Hyrulean Sea and beyond. However, a frown made itself apparent on the princess, and she sighed deeply.

“My princess, what bothers you?” said an old woman, whose voice carried some whimsy. She tended to the hearth in the princess’s chamber, one she had taken up use of recently over the comfort of her former bedroom. The choice baffled the nursemaid, as the coming autumn would keep this place cold, even with the nearby fire. The princess had found her nursemaid’s jovial tone could easily lower her guard, however reluctant she was to yield.

Zelda let loose her tense shoulders. “This sight saddens me, Impa,” she said. “This realm they call a lesser Hyrule was once a grand country, much larger than... this.”

Impa approached the princess. “I know, child.”

“My people have dwindled, either by the division of this country, or that there is little wealth remaining in these lands. The few that have lingered can barely make a living in this petty kingdom.”

The princess looked down below at castle bailey, watching the handful of knights and workers going about their daily duties. She could barely afford to pay them, and some were even volunteers, whose help Zelda graciously accepted despite her shame.

“Your Highness, you shouldn’t speak so little of your country,” Impa said warmly. “Petty kingdom or not, the name of Hyrule remains proud, for it still keeps the greatest treasures of all. No amount of wealth can surpass them.”

“Not ‘them,’ but ‘it’... Were it that I could wield the full ensemble of the Triforce... With but a single wish from my heart’s depths, I could rule Hyrule properly and lead my people to prosperity, like the monarchs of old.”

Impa looked at her princess more closely, seeking to understand.

“I only want to do right by my people, Impa. That means making the right decision, even when it is difficult.” Zelda turned to her nursemaid, with unease weighing heavily in her brow. Impa noticed a glint of light from the back of Zelda’s right hand, which the young princess quickly hid with the other.

“Princess, what have you seen?” Impa asked.

Zelda breathed deeply, looking away for a moment. “An evil will strike this country soon, Impa, I am sure of it. Surely you have heard the rumors? The monsters stalking the wilds are amassing in greater numbers, even stealing weapons and tools from the outer villages in the night. Never before have they acted like this. There are even whispers of certain people consorting with them.”

“It’s certainly odd...” Impa said, maintaining a willful skepticism. “Perhaps Your Highness can arrange for more guards patrolling the roads? To protect the people from monsters, to dissuade dealing with them. But it may require some further thrift here...”

“No mere soldier can protect this land from what is to come, from what I have foreseen. You know of what I mean, Impa.”

“Your Highness, I am not so sure...” Impa said, reluctant to believe she would witness the fabled calamity return in her lifetime.

Zelda again looked back over the remains of her kingdom, lamenting its decline. “The fate of Hyrule will be decided in the very near future, Impa, at a point in time I cannot yet discern past. All else before then, however...” Zelda breathed deeply, trying to stand up straighter, more strongly. “The decision is still difficult.”

Impa’s voice became grave. “What must be done, my princess?”

“Please prepare for an escape from the castle, Impa,” Zelda said. “Not even this place will be safe from the storm.”

__

Link had begun to get the hang of his father’s training. His eyes could keep up with the wooden sword’s dance now, and his footwork had gotten better, too. This time, they practiced outside their home atop a small hill in the outskirts of their woodland village, with the sun setting behind the western mountains. Link’s mother was preparing thin wooden panels as targets, resisting the itch to practice on them herself before her son would complete his sword training for the day.

“Three, four!” his father said, and Link deftly parried his strikes aside, his green cap bouncing slightly with his movements.

“Five!” he shouted, to Link’s surprise, but the young boy quickly jumped back, evading the blow. Having put too much force behind his swing only to hit air, Link’s father stumbled forward, trying to regain balance. With a smirk, Link then leaped forward, lunging with his wooden sword, and the tip landed squarely on his father’s chest.

“Alright, alright, I yield,” he said, and Link withdrew, cheering a little.

“Link!” his mother called out. “Rest for a moment, and then get your slingshot!” Yet the boy was filled with energy despite the autumn chill, and grabbed the small tool lying aside the log Link’s father sat on.

“Let’s start now, Mother!” he said, pulling on the sling loaded with an acorn.

She sighed in wonder as she attached the target to the clothesline. “Ready?” she said, and then turned the crank on the contraption, attaching more targets as she went. From one end, the wood panels swayed in the air as they were pulled along. Link quickly landed the acorns on three out of four targets, though not very accurately, before they reached the other end of the clothesline.

“What about the fourth, Link?” his father said, taking a drink from his waterskin.

“It’ll do, dear!” his mother replied, watching Link as he looked for acorns that remained intact. “Don’t worry, Link. You’ve gotten good at this very quickly. You’ll be perfect in no time.”

“Can I try again?” Link asked, restless.

His mother laughed. “Of course, of course.”

But as she turned the crank the other way to bring the targets back, a scream was heard from the far side of the village. The three of them turned in its direction immediately, and Link’s father jumped from his seat to get a closer look.

There was a clang of metal, and another scream. Embers caught on another villager’s thatch roof, quickly lighting it ablaze. The piggish roars of moblins were enough to turn Link’s knees to jelly.

“Something’s wrong,” Link’s father said, urgently walking back to the door of their home. “Link! Quickly, now!” he said, and the boy obeyed, following him inside. Moving aside their supper table and the fur pelt beneath it, he revealed a trapdoor blended in with the planks of the floor, and he easily stuffed Link in the tiny space beneath their home.

“But Father!”

“No buts. Stay here and don’t make a sound until you hear me or your mother call for you. Do you understand?”

“It’s for your own safety, Link,” his mother said. “We’ll be back soon, okay?”

Link hesitantly nodded.

His mother took down a short bow from the wall, with simple wooden arrows in a large quiver, while his father pulled a thick club out from behind their bed, larger than the wooden swords they used for training. They wasted no time in shutting the trapdoor and putting the pelt and table back above it before heading out toward the rest of the village.

Link sat in the darkness of the hidden space, trying not to make a sound against the old wood, loose soil, and pebbles he sat against. Soon, the door to their home opened again.

“Mother? Father?” Link whispered, fear forcing still his throat.

He heard a dog-like snarl, and the moblin stomped on the planks of the floor, sniffing around for life. It took all Link had to not yelp in fright as he hugged his knees.

“No one here!” the moblin growled, and Link heard the heavy stamps of its feet leaving the house, and the door slammed shut. Link sighed in relief, but his face shot up when he heard crackling sounds above him. Through the little cracks between the floorboards, he could see an orange light, and Link pounded at the trapdoor above, screaming for his parents. But they weren’t there, and the door would barely budge against the weight of the table.

For a moment, Link despaired at his weakness, wailing in pain from throwing his forearms against the dirt wall. None of the training he endured had prepared him for this, nor made him stronger than his ten-year-old body. He cried at his powerlessness, at not knowing what to do.

In a moment between his deep breaths, he remembered his father’s words, muffling the sound of everything else, just for an instant.

Courage when it matters most.

Link found strength in his legs, and again he pushed up against the trapdoor, managing to open it just a little. A flicker of fell light and smoke threatened his focus. With the full weight of the table above him, Link could barely move it any further than a foot, but then he heard a thud behind him. Something on the table fell off, and then another, and Link pushed harder than before, every fiber of his muscles screaming. With a final push and his foot now against the edge of the floor above, he threw the trapdoor back and leapt out from the darkness.

With the support beams of his house’s roof collapsing, Link slammed his weight against the burning door, dashing right through, sustaining a few burns on his hand and legs, while the loose threads of his shirt and tunic singed away. By now, much of the rest of the village was on fire, homes and trees alike, covering the red sky in a thick smoke. Sparing no time to think or catch his breath, Link grabbed his slingshot and his wooden sword, and ran toward the village.

“Mother! Father! Where are you?” he called out as he neared the center of the village, its houses all ablaze, its people running, fighting, and dying.

A young girl screamed as she scampered past Link, holding her stuffed doll tightly in her arms, both of them bearing little burns. Removing its weapon from the body of a village defender, a moblin gave chase, prepared to throw its spear at her.

“No!” Link yelled, and swung his wooden sword hard and low, catching the fiend on its ankle. It tripped, landing face-first into the dirt. The girl kept running, unaware she was safe for the moment, while the moblin growled as it got up and picked up its spear, now focused on Link.

The young swordsman jumped back, grasping his wooden sword in both hands. He raised it up for a high strike, and he felt it pulsate in his arms. The moblin charged at him, its spear aimed straight for the boy. Link only planted his feet and grit his teeth, and at the last second he jumped to the right and swung his sword down and forward to meet the fiend, landing the tip right on its unarmored head. The wooden sword erupted with a burst of rainbow light, and the moblin was thrown back, limp and lifeless.

Some distance away, another moblin roared “Blood for the king!”

“Blood for the king!” others yelled in unison.

Link was thoroughly winded from the blast, and as he confusedly regained his breath, he noticed his wooden sword was cracked and split in parts.

“There are more on the other side of the building!” he heard ahead. It was his mother’s voice.

“Mother!” he yelled, but got no response. Link quickly picked up the shield from the fallen defender, strapping it to his right arm as he ran forward.

Ahead, Link’s parents were engaged with a duo of moblins; his father quickly evaded the strikes of their spears, while his mother drew another arrow, aiming for their heads.

“Keep them still!” she said, narrowly evading the thrown spear of a moblin.

“I’m trying!” Link’s father yelled, bashing the now-unarmed moblin in the head. In close quarters, he attacked the other, and the moblin had no choice but to defend.

“Father! Mother!” Link called out.

“Link?” his father said, and the moment of distraction was enough for the moblin to overpower the man, its hooved foot kicking him back, undoubtedly breaking his ribs.

“No!” his wife screamed. On the ground, Link’s father then brandished a knife from his belt and plunged it deep into the upper leg of the moblin, ripping through flesh as he wrenched it back out. Link’s mother loosed an arrow through the moblin’s eye, and it fell back, frozen in its stunned pose. With great difficulty, Link’s father got up, barely able to breathe and unable to hold the large club he had wielded.

“Link, I told you to stay home...”

“I want to help!” he yelled loudly in defiance.

“Link,” his mother said, running to him, “it’s not safe here.”

“It wasn’t safe at home! They burned it down!”

As Link’s father tried to approach them, holding his chest in pain, they heard roars on the other side of the buildings, through the crackling flame.

“More, more!”

“Blood for the king!”

Gasping, Link’s mother’s eyes darted around for assailants.

“Look at you,” Link’s father said, still some distance away, pushing against his forward leg for support. “My boy, my brave fighter—”

A spear slashed through his back, and a dog-faced moblin roared in victory, now pointing its weapon at the young boy straight ahead. 

“No!” Link’s mother screamed, pulling him along by the arm, and running off as quickly as her legs could take her, as much as Link tried standing his ground.

“Blood for the king!” yelled the moblin as its spear sped through the air, and Link’s mother stumbled, falling with him tight in her arms.

Wresting himself out of her grasp, Link then threw the wooden sword with all of his might at the head of the charging moblin, its splintered and broken shaft knocking the creature out cold.

“Mother, come on,” he said, turning back to her, but his eyes were caught on the spear that had torn through her back.

“Link... You must run...” she forced out with the last of her breath, and the life faded away from her eyes, like wind through flowers.

Link, speechless with tears burning his eyes, screamed at the open sky. But the moblins were not yet finished. A handful of them remained, all gathering near the body of Link’s father, pointing their spears at him. One spiraled through the air right past him, landing and getting stuck in the ground. Something spurred Link’s legs to run, dashing away from the rain of the moblins’ spears and their stomping charge, running back home without a second thought.

His home was now entirely aflame, and part of the structure had collapsed. Frozen for a moment with wide eyes and the roars of moblins behind him, he grabbed the second wooden sword, once his father’s, and kept running. Over the hill and through the thick forest, Link ignored the burning in his legs and lungs, and kept running.

__

There was a banging at the castle’s gates, and the young Princess Zelda watched from above as scores of moblins kept throwing themselves into it with battering rams. An accident involving their crude bombs had dented the moblins’ numbers, but with the sheer amount of their recently arrived reinforcements, Hyrule Castle’s garrison had little hope beyond maintaining its defense of the wall. Hidden in the upper parapets, the wall’s few archers could properly hold their positions and pick their enemies off one by one, and the knights and fighters skillfully ambushed the ladder-climbing moblins, knocking them back and letting gravity handle destroying their poorly made tools. But the garrison’s supply of arrows would eventually run out, and the swordsmen just couldn’t keep up with all of the moblins coming for them.

“Blood for the king!” the beasts chanted. Together they would all stamp on the hopes of Hyrule’s last guardians.

“Set up the barricades!” the knight captain yelled, and others brought out what few they had to defend entrances to the keep both above the ramparts and down in the bailey. There was an explosion behind them on the other side of the keep, however, along with the screams of the handful of soldiers defending that position.

“No!” the knight captain yelled, his hand grasping his sword too tightly. “You all must hold this place at all cost, I must go—”

“You must stay where you are, Captain,” he heard in the far back of his mind. “That dark fiend is beyond you and all your soldiers. I will deal with it in time.”

He looked up to the keep’s tower, and though he could not see his princess, he knew she watched.

“I will stay here,” the knight captain said, raising his sword to his face, his eyes looking past its edges. “On my honor as a knight of Hyrule, I will smite the enemy of this land and protect my charge with my very life.”

With renewed strength, the captain led a forward push against the invading moblins, and together with his remaining soldiers, he cut through them with great speed and accuracy. His lovingly polished steel armor shone with a red gleam, and the weaker assailants were thrown back, awestruck when their spears would do little to harm him. While others went to deal with the ladder moblins at the ramparts, the captain faced those just now breaking through the front gate of the outer wall. He knew that the princess and the Triforce of Wisdom she wielded would see things right, and if he were to die on this battlefield, it would not be in vain so long as she lived.

Zelda above watched as her knights fought in spite of their dwindling numbers. “The stage is almost set. Impa, have you finished the preparations?”

“Your Highness,” Impa said, “I have readied our flight from the castle.” Her heart raced a bit too much for her old age. “But what was that sound?”

“It was an explosion, Impa. Their king has gained entry to our deepest vaults.”

“Princess... No! That is where...” Impa stopped herself upon noticing Zelda’s unchanging expression, as if it was something she expected to happen.

“Yes, Impa. Whether it is fate-designed, or pure happenstance that allowed this, I cannot say that it was a surprise. Or perhaps it was my weakness in not bearing the full Triforce as my ancestors did that allowed for this to come to pass.”

Impa would have scolded her were it not for the situation surrounding them.

“It matters not. He will be here soon. I have one more task to fulfill, but before that, you must escape the castle before he arrives.”

Impa’s eyes widened. “My princess! No, I cannot leave without you!”

“Impa, you must. The escape was never meant for me.”

“I will not leave you here to be left to the Demon King’s whims! The fate of Hyrule rests on your shoulders, Your Highness. So long as you live, Hyrule will survive, it can be wrought anew! Princess Zelda, you are Hyrule!”

“Nay, Impa. The fate of Hyrule is a shared burden. In this light, I require of you a mission, my faithful nursemaid.”

Unease forced Impa’s back to tighten, but she bowed all she could nonetheless. “What shall I do, Your Highness?”

“Seek someone of great skill and bravery, Impa. One whose shoulders can bear this weight. One with the will to save Hyrule.”

Impa breathed deeply, contemplating her mission. “I understand, my princess.”

“Now go, my dear Impa. We are running out of time.”

Impa’s feet were reluctant to move, but she bit her tongue and steeled her heart, and soon made for the lower hidden corridors of the castle. The castle’s few servants had gathered near the concealed exit, waiting for Zelda and Impa to flee together from the evil king’s wrath, but they would not see their princess this one last time.

Zelda returned to the balcony to observe the battle. Of the castle’s garrison, only the knight captain still remained. Though his breaths and sword were heavy, he stood against the advancing enemy, ignoring all notions of tire and pain. The horde of moblins assembled around him, readying their spears to skewer the armored man to the door. He gathered his breath once again, raised his shield, and dug his feet into the ground.

“As I still draw breath, you will not enter this castle.”

“Choke him!”

“Trample on his throat!”

One moblin thrust its spear at the captain, but he easily deflected it with his shield and ran his sword through the moblin’s neck in one swift motion.

Then he heard thundering footsteps, coming from the other side of the wall. Even the moblins trembled at first, but soon a laughter erupted amongst them. There was a pounding on the other side of the still-shut front gate, undoubtedly the moblins trying once again to break through with a battering ram. But they were hushed with a single swipe, which the captain felt rend the air.

In an instant, the stout gate of Hyrule Castle was smashed to a thousand pieces, the fist of the demon standing at its threshold burning with a fell flame. It looked to be a pig-faced moblin, with its flat snout, fangs too big to keep in its mouth, and bearing dried skulls and spoils of war, but the similarities stopped there. Its hide was shaded in a skin-crawling blue, it had thick horns sprouting from its head though they were now broken, and even hunched it was much larger than its footsoldiers. Stowing its broad trident over its back, it cracked its knuckles, and behind the deeply dark flame wreathed around its hand, the knight captain could make out a faint light, its shape all too familiar to any servant of the Royal Family of Hyrule.

“Princess!” the knight captain cried out.

“Worry not, Captain,” he heard in his mind. “I remain unharmed.”

“But the ancient relic! The treasure of your family! No, why are you still here?” he said back to her.

“I could not find the will to wield it myself, for fear of what I would become with its power. You may rue me if you want, Captain.”

The captain’s shoulders dropped, watching the demon ahead stare him down. “No, my princess, I will not,” he said, “for I was too foolhardy to heed your warnings.”

In his weariness and the heat of the battlefield, he remembered the words the princess gave him before the siege, as he and his soldiers kept to their vigil.

“I ask that you flee as well, Captain, for I fear the might of this invading army and the one who leads it,” Princess Zelda had said. “Please, Captain, your defense here will be sure death.”

“Your Highness, my soldiers and I will defend the keep to make sure you and the others can escape to seek someplace safe.”

“And if I call upon your oaths to serve me, your ruling princess, without question nor defiance?”

“Then I would beg your forgiveness, for I am set on this path. I ask that you allow me this honor of protecting you. Once I know you have successfully escaped with your treasures, my princess, I will retreat with whomever I can. My soldiers are aware of this plan, and will act on it should you approve.” Though the captain’s eyes were elsewhere.

Zelda lamented this thread of fate, for she knew what the captain did not. “Captain, with great reluctance do I give you my approval, for I know that I cannot defeat fate... But I ask that you use this for your protection.” She presented to him a little ring made of a silver-red band bearing a dull garnet stone; a trinket to most people’s eyes. But he knew this was a preserved magic treasure of Hyrule Castle, to be kept for the assistance of the hero of legend.

The captain smiled, accepting it. “I only do this to protect you, Your Highness. I know that you will be a good queen one day.”

The hazy memory faded away, and Zelda shed a tear remembering it herself. Now, the captain stood alone against the dark fiend, this purported ‘Demon King,’ and its army of beasts.

“So this is how it ends,” the captain said, tightly gripping his sword and shield.

“I will stay with you to the end, my dear captain,” he heard, and it was warm.

The dark fiend’s hand flared again with its wicked flame, and the golden light that appeared under it radiated enough for him to see clearly. The fiend grabbed the knight, its hulking hand wrenching through his steel breastplate, right past the protective red light. Soon it collapsed, and the knight’s ribcage shattered entirely. Still holding him, the snarling fiend placed its forefinger over the knight’s head, and clenched its fist one last time.

With unreal strength, the fiend broke right through the gate to the castle’s keep, leading the moblin army with heavy footsteps that shook the building’s foundations. Though the princess had foreseen this outcome, with each time she felt the shock in her knees and spine, she couldn’t help but be frightened.

But the princess knew she had to perform her duty, even at her own expense. Her mind called out to Impa’s, and gave the nursemaid her final orders.

Zelda fortified her heart, raising her right hand forward, and the light Impa once saw on the back of the princess’s hand shone again. The intense light dimmed for a moment to reveal a marking – three perfect triangles joined in unison at their points to make one greater triangle. The triangle of the bottom-left gleamed more strongly than the other two, before the full marking dimmed completely. Zelda turned her hand, raising the palm high, and produced a single triangle, one that appeared immaculately carved from shimmering, unblemished gold.

Grasping the triangle in her hand, she clenched tight her fingers around it, yelping in pain. With great difficulty and searing pain in her very core, Zelda broke the golden triangle, light pouring from its cracks. It shattered into eight pieces, and Zelda struggled to walk back out to the balcony. The moblin army still stationed outside could not see her, nor would their shoddy bows and arrows reach her. Mustering what she could of her magic, the princess let loose the triangle fragments into the sky, each wreathed with a blinding blue light as they flew like missiles to different spots around her kingdom.

Traveling through a hidden clearing in the woods, Impa and the other servants watched as they soared through the dusk sky, and the elderly nursemaid’s heart sank as she came to understand the princess’s plan. Soon, a wandering detachment of moblins spotted them under the starlight. Against the sways of her heart, Impa split off to fulfill her duty. Despite that, most of the moblins roared and chased the servants, and a few followed Impa. With heavy breaths and weary bones, she ran for the hills.

At the tallest tower of Hyrule Castle, the dark fiend effortlessly broke through the door of Zelda’s chamber, and with a raised hand, a glowing barrier formed over the smashed doorway. The moblins looked on, touching the barrier in wonder, as the Demon King and Princess Zelda stood opposite each other.

“Say my name,” said the king.

“Ganon,” replied Princess Zelda.

“You know who I am. Then you know why I am here.”

“Yes, I know. You’re here to claim the Triforce.”

“What times Hyrule has fallen into, that the Triforce is unwhole.”

Zelda betrayed a hint of annoyance, and Ganon’s fanged mouth smirked.

“How do you feel, Princess, having watched me utterly decimate your forces? Knowing you never had a chance to stand against my army? My own power?”

“Your power is scarcely your own, Ganon. You have stolen a piece of the Triforce from me. Along with that arrow and many more things, I see.”

“What, this tiny needle?” He removed the arrow from his satchel, holding it by the shaft, carefully avoiding the silver arrowhead. “I know not what it is. It was kept in your vault, so it must have some value. Perhaps I’ll pick my teeth with it.”

“Despite bearing golden might, the blight they called Ganon was also known for his cunning and trickery.” She knew Ganon could tell the silver arrow was crafted as a weapon against him, blessed with moonlight in the hopes it would repel evil. He placed it back into the satchel, along with the little gold and rupees pilfered from the vault, and the red ring taken from the body of the knight captain. “Though perhaps little of your scheming mind remains, having revived as many times as you have. Maybe once this happens again, you will end up a slimy thing, struggling to even stand.”

Ganon growled. “Do not think I will leave these foul tools here for your hero to claim. Oh yes, Princess, I know. Each and every time I have risen, in turn you raised the hero against me. I expect to meet him soon. It is only a matter of time. May I kill him in the cradle.”

Zelda showed an inkling of sorrow. “How could I have raised a hero, with my kingdom as weak as it is now? Perhaps this will be the time you win and break our cycle, Ganon.”

He roared in laughter. “Tell me, Princess, why did you not wield the Triforce of Power yourself? You knew I was coming for you, for it. You could have taken it in your hand to rule over this lesser Hyrule and beyond. You could have used it to destroy me on the battlefield, and none of your soldiers would be dead. Your knight would still live.”

“Do you think I would bandy such words with a foul creature like you?”

“Entertain me, Princess. You have done so up until now. Why stop?”

Every minute she could scrounge for Impa’s flight was precious, but in truth Zelda wanted not to speak of this, least of all with Ganon.

“I would not wield the Triforce of Power in fear of what it would make me. I arm myself with wisdom, so that I can discern what is right and what is wrong... and what will come to pass. With the Triforces of Wisdom and Power, I would see my country restored to its classical splendor, but I may also become a wrathful queen... And when I see your wretched and vile existence, Ganon, I fear it all the more.”

“You fear power would outweigh your ruler’s wisdom... You are scared witless to act as any ruler must. And without the third to complete it, you cannot make your wish upon the Triforce,” Ganon said, his toothy grin curving hideously. “Then give it to me, my Zelda.” He outstretched his massive clawed hand.

“You? The one called ‘Demon King’? I would sooner fling myself from this tower than give it to you, foul beast.”

“Then do so. I would claim the Triforce of Wisdom from your lifeless corpse. Princess, me having left you alive the moment I entered this room was mere courtesy, from ruler to ruler. As much of a dung heap this country has now become, I have come to respect you in some little way for defying me so many times. Give to me your share of the Triforce, and I will give you your life, to live the rest of your pitiful days in Hyrule’s carcass.”

With her head down and eyes closed, Zelda began to smile, seemingly resigned to her fate.

“You know this is the only way you get to live. Your Wisdom will show you.”

Zelda raised her head and met Ganon’s stare, and her smile became wry.

He growled. “Princess... Where is the Triforce of Wisdom?”

“It is gone. I no longer bear its light.”

“WHERE IS THE TRIFORCE?!”

“Not even I know, Ganon.”

“YOU LIE!”

“I have broken my piece into many pieces and scattered them around my country. It may take you a long time to find them, even if you knew where to start. But wisdom you do not have.”

He roared again, and the floor beneath him cracked. “Foul, despicable girl! I will kill you! I swear it! I will kill you worse than your puny knight!” Ganon’s hand glowed with the mark of the Triforce, its upper triangle of the three shining most brightly.

Zelda’s knees almost buckled.

“Stay your hand, demon. You will not kill me.”

“Do you mean to test me?!”

“I am the only one who can divine where the pieces of the Triforce of Wisdom have become hidden. Kill me, and you lose your fastest way to acquiring it.”

“I can wait,” he snarled. “I have become very patient.”

“Do you expect to gather them all before the hero comes for you?”

“You admit it, then? You have raised a hero to defy me?”

“Nay, I admit that I have not. But I doubt you want to wait long enough to see one rise on their own, Ganon.”

“Vile, wretched princess. Your own existence disgusts me. Long have the people of Hyrule enjoyed the bounty of their land. You can imagine how happy I was to see how you all now suffer in this waste of a land, like mine. Fine then, Princess. You can play your little game of rebellion against me. Divine for me these cursed places where you have hidden the Triforce of Wisdom. When it rests complete and whole in my hand, I will claim your skull as the price for your childish defiance.”

Ganon clenched his glowing fist and a crystal prism formed around Zelda, trapping her in the fiend’s clutches. With the princess and her family’s treasures in tow, Ganon and his army left Hyrule Castle and marched for his base at Death Mountain. 

__

Impa had been running almost nonstop for hours, and by the time the sun began to rise, she was all but exhausted. She found herself in a clearing outside the forest, near a low plateau by the kingdom’s southern borders. The nursemaid’s old body hurt beyond belief and capacity, but with the moblins having not given up on the chase, she could not spare much time for rest.

  As she sat against a tree to catch her breath, only a few minutes passed before she heard rustling from within the trees. Impa groaned in pain and worry, with beads of sweat falling from her brow as the stomps and growls of moblins approached.

“Oh, Princess, I don’t know if I can do the mission you gave me... Forgive me for my weakness, sweet child...”

The very moment one of the moblins stepped out from the thicket into the clearing, something zoomed through the air, hitting one in the eye. In throes of pain, the moblin unwittingly slashed at the other three. More projectiles zoomed through the air as a boy holding a slingshot jumped out from a tree, continually readying new shots.

“There! Kill the runt!”

Two moblins flung their spears at the boy, who dodged one and deflected the other with his small shield. Loosing another acorn at the eyes of a moblin, the boy’s already-worn slingshot broke, and he threw it away before drawing his wooden sword, also battered and cracked. Swift as the wind, he dove into the thrashing pile of moblins, throwing them all back with a spin of his sword. Impa gasped in awe as she watched the boy fight. One would think a child would scream, hold their head, and run when faced with a moblin, a devilish and ever meat-hungry forest beast often mentioned in stories meant to make the children behave. Yet this boy fought unwaveringly with four moblins armed and trained for feral warfare. Impa thought the boy moved like a green flash, watching him whittle each of them down with the strikes of his sword.

The last of the four moblins, a larger blue-skinned kind, got in a lucky strike with its spear, cutting past the boy’s sleeve and skin. Still, he held his shield and his sword, almost snapped in half at this point, to face the fiend. It roared, putting all its force behind a quick thrust. But the boy deflected it to the side and jumped forward before using his shield to bash in the side of the moblin’s knee, and it fell. The boy then tightly grasped the hilt of what remained of his wooden sword, and smashed it into the moblin’s head. Any life that remained in the moblin was now gone, and the wooden sword was now broken, little of it remaining past the guard. After a moment of contemplation, the boy cast it aside.

“Young boy,” Impa called out weakly, coughing.

He turned, staring at the small old lady sitting against the tree.

“Come here... Quickly, please.” Impa slowly tried to stand, and when she almost fell, the boy ran to support her, and he gave her his waterskin to drink from. There wasn’t much, and Impa had not expected she would drink it all. Still, it rejuvenated her, and pain slowly left her body, though she was still weary. “What a good lad you are...”

 The boy kept silent, focusing on carrying the small woman forward where she wanted to go. He squeezed out the last drops of the fairy water over the wound on his arm, and it stung and steamed as it closed shut.

“I am Impa, servant of Princess Zelda. She needs your help.”

The boy inhaled sharply when he heard the name. Though his home was a few miles from the Kingdom of Hyrule’s official borders, he had seen the few soldiers the castle had when they were on their regular patrols around the region, and he knew of the attack on Hyrule Castle. Though he had never seen the princess, his parents had sometimes talked about the state of the kingdom and the overall Hyrule region.

My parents...

Though Impa remained quiet waiting for a response, some semblance of acknowledgement, the boy’s thoughts trailed off in remembering his mother and father. Yes, he had to escape his house to live, but if he hadn’t called out to them, distracted them in battle, revealed their position to the moblins, perhaps they...

“Young boy? Surely you aren’t deaf.”

His mouth frowning tightly, the boy turned to face Impa and shook his head.

“Dear me,” she sighed in some mixture of worry and relief. “I must ask your forgiveness, boy, but Princess Zelda and this land of Hyrule need your help. I fear I must believe you are its best hope. Please, will you at least tell me your name?”

The boy felt as if his throat was bound in fetters. He managed to utter something with some difficulty, as if he was remembering himself.

“Link.”

“Oh my, a strong name. I will not have to call you the boy who hides in trees,” Impa said, laughing to herself.

Link carried her to the edge of the plateau, and she sat again, breathing deeply. Together they faced the remains of the kingdom, from the Death Mountain Range in the northwest and the Great Hyrulean Sea in the far east. Though the plateau wasn’t very high, they could see much of it clearly. The Lost Woods, Lake Hylia, Spectacle Rock upon Death Mountain itself... Some thought these grandiose names were all Hyrule had to remember its former glory.

“The princess is... in Ganon’s clutches, the one called ‘Demon King,’” Impa said, but her words were unsure and very pained. “To keep it out of his possession, she has broken a treasure most vital to Hyrule’s peace, its heart. It is the Triforce of Wisdom, a triangle of gold, now split apart in eight pieces.”

Link nodded, remembering the lights he saw the night before.

“I am not entirely sure of pieces’ locations, but there are many strongholds throughout the kingdom. They are older than even me, but they were well built... some even hidden by magic, to be used in the defense of this country. I am sure the princess has hidden the pieces of the Triforce within their depths. But the strongholds themselves have been in disuse for ages... There is talk of monsters and other evils having taken up residence.”

Impa was surprised, yet joyed nonetheless to see Link’s glare remain steady.

“You must recover the Triforce of Wisdom, both to keep it out of Ganon’s hands, and to save Zelda from him. For Ganon has taken its counterpart, the Triforce of Power. Without Zelda’s treasure, you cannot hope to battle with the Demon King. Link... I know not if I can trust you with the princess’s mission, but please, you must help.”

With his brow heavy, Link only nodded.

A smile formed on Impa’s face, but strength began to leave the old woman’s eyes.

“I leave it to you... Please, save Zelda... Save Hyrule...”

Impa lightly fell to the side, and Link gasped, but when he heard her snore, he knew it was alright. Just below them at the foot of the plateau, Link saw a person, an old man, who had seemingly been watching them. The old man turned back, hobbling into a cave of which the entrance Link could barely see. Doing what he could to lift Impa over his back, he carried the old woman down a pathway leading below, and took her into the cave.

With the cave illuminated by fires in two pots, the old man sat against the rear wall, with some scavenged provisions and a walking stick at his side. He looked upon Link warily as the boy laid Impa down against the cave wall.

“I saw enough of what happened, young boy,” the old man said. “You’re quite skilled, I have to admit. I can watch over the lady until she wakes. But I don’t have much in the way of provision here myself, and I don’t know if I’ll last so long anyway.” Link noticed some spots of red in the cave floor, and a bloodied rag wrapped around his leg.

Link nodded and turned to leave.

“Wait!” the old man yelled. “It’s dangerous out there. There are those pigs lurking about, but more creatures have come out from the trees, down from the mountains. You’re one boy, all alone. I don’t know what you’re going to do, but there’s a weapon, right over there, if you need it...”

Link turned to see a moblin’s spear off to the side, its head carved from animal bone. Link’s lip curled in unhidden disgust, and he shook his head.

“I see... Then, the only other thing I have left is this. Take it.”

The old man pulled from behind him a sheathed sword, holding it out as Link approached and took the weapon from his hands. Keeping an eye on the old man, he unsheathed the sword carefully; it was an old thing, rusted in parts, but still serviceable. Link swung it lightly a few times to get a feel for its weight before putting it back in its scabbard and strapping it to his tunic’s belt. 

The old man smiled. “I’m sorry, that’s all I’ve got. And someone so young shouldn’t wield a sword so easily... It is less a boon than it is a burden.”

Link’s heavy stare met the old man again.

“But I suppose you already knew. I’ll keep you in my prayers, boy. Should I live, perhaps I’ll hope to see you again.”

Link took another look at Impa before leaving the cave. Back outside, he turned to face the cave, and took another look around him. In the far distances, he saw a cluster of tektites to the west, and more octoroks to the east and north.

He knew not why he had accepted Impa’s request so readily. He knew little of Princess Zelda, had no deep love for Hyrule. He could leave this place if he wanted to, and anyone in their right mind would. But even though the hate he bore for Ganon and his minions still burned strong, part of him felt compelled to do this task out of some duty.

“O brave hero,” Link heard. It was faint, far-off yet still close. “O brave hero, venture north. The great lake, you will find the first piece you seek. Save Hyrule.”

No longer alone, Link grasped his sword tightly, and took his first steps into the wild.

[thisbitchinthecorner]

December 31st 1799 Day 31

This is very late, but better late than never, right?? For @drawlight

Auld Lang Syne Prompt

“Did getting locked up in the Bastille teach you nothing? You continue to dress in such an outlandish manner, you’re going to get yourself discorporated and you can’t say that I didn’t warn you.” Crowley groaned as the shuffled by a group of young British officers as they made their way down the street.

“Oh come now! I’m not that overdressed and at least I’m not looking as ghastly as you!” Aziraphale bickered. “Honestly, those pants of yours are practically obscene!”

“At least I know how to blend in, you just stand out, literary everywhere you go. Lucky it hasn’t caused more problems for you.” Crowley

grumbled. “So you’re finally going to let me see what you’re done to your little bookshop then? Feels like it’s been ages since you’ve let me into your humble home.”

“It’s not a little shop anymore, Crowley. I made some changes.”

“About time, that tired old building has been your base of operation for...well, since forever.”

“It was in need of some updating, and my last place was more of a library, this is, ah, just see for yourself.” The angel glowed with pride as they turned a corner and stood in front of a stately stone building.

“You have been a busy little bee, haven’t you?A.Z. Fell and co?” Crowley read. “Who is the co?”

Aziraphale shrugged. “It’s just a title really. Would you like to come in?” The angel and demon stood together at the threshold, as Aziraphale opened the door.

The space was large, warm and still the remarkably unorganized chaos that Crowley knew so well. Four grand pillars now stood in the center, above them, a massive window allowing Heaven’s light to filter in, filing the room with a pale light. In typical Aziraphale fashion, the furnishings were just a bit out of style to ever be mistaken for modern.

“I see you kept the old furniture.” Crowley remarked.

“Can’t expect me to change everything.”

“The silver tea set is new. Angel wings on the cups? Really?” Crowley snickered as he picked up one of the polished pieces. The angel pretended not to hear him.

“Seems like you have no intention of actually selling any of these books.”

“I have some intention.” The angel scoffed. “But not much.”

“A lot of work to open up an enormous book shop with the intention is not to sell any actual books.” Crowley meandered around the room, admiring the splendor and noting the personal touches the angel had installed. “I do like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Oh thank you.” Aziraphale said as he tidied some leaflets.

“Gabriel approve of it? I mean, all these little Heavenly touches must really put a cheery smile on that face of his.” Crowley grimaced.

“I didn’t exactly tell them yet.”

“You didn’t tell them what?” Crowley asked, carefully studying the angel’s posture change.

Aziraphale answered by gesturing, a grimace overcame him as he genuinely feared Heaven’s reaction.

“How could you not tell them? You’ve been talking about having a proper book shop for the last 200 years now.” Crowley said with surprise.

“It never came up. It’s been ages since Gabriel or any of them have been on Earth, and I haven’t been summoned to Heaven since the birth of Christ.”

“You just miracled this immense building into existence and you expect Heaven not to notice?” The demon laughed over the angel’s boldness.

“I didn’t miracle anything. I built it myself.” Aziraphale said quietly.

“All of it?” Crowley looked around with wonder. “By yourself?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale fiddled with his collar. “I rather like the work, and it didn’t take that long to finish. Mostly a labor of love, so to speak.” The angel ran his fingers over the marble pillar, seemingly impressed by his own handiwork, despite his efforts not to show his vanity. “But anyway, this is the new shop and you’re the very first to see it completed.”

“I suppose we should celebrate, seeing how this is the last night of the century and the realization of your bookshop finally coming together.”

“Well, we have celebrated much lesser achievements, and I do have some single malt scotch I was planning on drinking soon anyway.” The angel mused as he pulled the glasses off their shelf; two of them, no more, no less. “Where would you like to go this time to ring in the New Year? Obviously Paris is out. Florence? It’s been a while since we’ve been there. Perhaps Edinburg, you like Scotland and they are an exciting bunch.”

“Actually angel, I was thinking we should just stay in and celebrate here.” Crowley said with a shrug.

“You mean you don’t want to parade yourself around an adoring crowd?”

“I was thinking it could just be us.” Crowley bit his lip. “Just a quiet night in, you and me.”

“Alright then.” Aziraphale poured them each a drink. “Cheers.”

“Angel,” Crowley began. “This place really is lovely.” He watched the angel blush as a smile spread across his face.

“Thank you. It’s a bit formal and open. I have a room towards the back that I believe might be more comfortable.” Aziraphale noted the demon’s propensity to sit awkwardly in chairs, especially the fine vintage pair in the center of the shop. “Follow me.”

Aziraphale’s office was more an intimate space, with tidier shelves and a large chaise, perfect for lounging. The angel lit the oil lamps, their shades cast a crimson color across the room; a stark contrast from the swathe of golden sunlight in the main room.

Crowley settled upon the green and tan upholstered chaise and allowed the plush cushions to curve around him. “Oh, this I like.” He hissed in approval.

“Care for another drink?” The angel asked.

“Have you ever known me to say no to you?”

“My dear, it’s been so long that I cannot recall.”

“Angel, do you really believe that God intends for all of this to end one day?” Crowley, ever curious asks after several drinks.

“I don’t like to think about that.” Aziraphale confessed. “In the beginning, it was easier to keep myself detached from them. But now?”

“Oh come now! You’ve been fond of them right from the start! You gave away your damn sword, remember?”

“Right.” The angel shrugged as he slung back the rest of his drink.

“What was I saying?” Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. He set them down on the table as he began to walk around.

Aziraphale said nothing as his eyes lingered over the demon for a little too long.

“Oh never mind.” Crowley said as something caught his attention. “Do you hear that? Sounds like singing.”

“It cannot be morning already?” Aziraphale fumbled for his pocket watch, squinting to see the lines. “Apparently, we’ve missed the arrival of the new year.”

“And the new century!” Crowley grinned. “How about it, angel, fancy making a resolution?”

“I resolve to do good, more good, oodles of good deeds. What about you?” Aziraphale hiccuped.

“Me? No resolutions for me. I’d rather get a New Years kiss.” The demon winked while the angel once again pretended not to hear him.

“It does sound like singing. Let’s go listen!” Aziraphale leapt from his seat, grabbed the demon by the arm and dragged him out of the shop onto the street.

There was a crowd gathered, men and women, young and old standing across the street from the shop. They were singing an old folk song, yet the lyrics were different.

“Auld Lang Syne.” Aziraphale said knowingly. “It’s by a remarkable Scottish poet. Honestly, my dear, do you read at all?”

“Not if I can help it.” Crowley muttered, knowing his words would draw the angel’s ire.

“I love the promise each passing year brings. The chance to improve, to progress and to create. There’s no other time I feel as optimistic as I do on this day. Happy New Year.” Aziraphale nudged his counterpart gently in the arm. “You’re not wearing your glasses! You’ve left them in the shop. I will grab them for you.”

“S’alright angel.” Crowley turned to face the angel, their eyes meeting under the canopy of stars above them. “Happy New Year, my old friend. Here’s to your bookshop, and for what it’s worth, I think Heaven should be proud of your accomplishments.”

Crowley continued to keep his eyes upon the angel. All the moments we’ve shared together, I know you better than any angel, and you, you know me better than any demon. He thought. When will you see that we don’t belong to them, that we belong to each other. We are on our own side, together until the end.

As the crowd dispersed, the pair made their way back into the bookshop. Aziraphale said goodnight, as he prepared to officially open the store to the public in the morning. Crowley called for his carriage, and he was whisked away to his home. He sat and decided that it was time to compose a letter; a letter that may not ever be delivered, but one that he needed to write none the less. A letter telling him everything, all the things Aziraphale deserved to hear and all the things he wanted to say.