#can you tell I’m homesick for a place that may not have even existed

[niko-jpeg]

It’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not fair ITS NOT FUCKING FAIR

[merakiui]

I absolutely LOVED your yandere twst fic it was beautifully written! My favorite characters are Cater, Rook, and Lilia and I was just curious about your thoughts on them as a yandere or your thoughts in general? I’m curious to hear what you think about them!

Thank you for reading it!! My yandere!Rook thoughts can be found here.

(cw: yandere, stalking, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, non-consensual photography, manipulation, obsession, mention of kidnapping)

Cater will document every moment of your life whenever he has the chance. What starts as innocent selfies or candid photos he snaps as a joke turns into something far darker, with Cater behind the lens of the camera. He has an entire photo album dedicated to you on his phone and new photos are constantly being added every day. Most of them are taken with your knowledge because he’ll ask to take a quick picture of you or he’ll wrap an arm around you and pull you into him so that you’re in frame. That’s just normal Cater behavior. But he also takes plenty of photos without you knowing, most of which are just you doing simple things and going about your school life completely unbothered. 

The moment you feel like something or someone is watching you, you’ll never be able to undo that feeling. It will stay with you, always clinging to your back like moss. You can partner up with any of your friends (safety in numbers, as they say), but even then the sensation that someone is staring at you never leaves. If anything, it only persists.

Cater really likes to take pictures of you. You’re just so photogenic! How can he not capture every moment of your precious life? Moments where you’re frustrated at Grim, moments where you’re laughing with your friends, and even moments where you’re alone and crying, homesick and lonely. Some of his favorite photos of you are the ones where you’re at peace. It almost fools him into thinking that you’ve adjusted to Twisted Wonderland and are content with living out your life here. But he knows that good things don’t often last and that it’s only a matter of time before Crowley finds a way to send you home, if one even exists. He hopes in the deepest, darkest pit of his heart that such a way does not exist. 

Cater will do everything he can to charm you, both when he’s with you and when he isn’t. He’ll rely on his unique magic so that he can be at multiple places at once, always getting great angles of you for his secret photo album. It’s also become somewhat of a fun parlor trick he uses to impress and amuse you. 

And it comes in handy when he needs to restrain you, using his clones to hold you down and cover your mouth as you struggle under him. He’ll always be gentle with you and he doesn’t dream of hurting you, but moving you into his dorm is going to be a little difficult if you keep putting up a fight, darling. 

- - -

Lilia is oh so wise and kind, despite the impression he may give off to some. He’s aware that Diasomnia’s vibe and decor may seem a little frightening to those who aren’t well-acquainted with it, but everyone is always willing to get along. What he hopes for the most is just that, so when he first meets you and sees the goodness in your heart and the purity in your actions he’s immediately intrigued. Most humans aren’t as selfless as you are. When he learns of your budding friendship with Malleus and how you treat Silver and Sebek with continued kindness no matter what, he is quite pleased. Lilia knows you aren’t a threat and that your intentions are always so pure, so he doesn’t have any problems approaching you. 

He’s nice. That’s how you’ll see him: a nice third-year student who is happy to assist you when you’re in need. Lilia will offer some very helpful words of advice and he has many tales of the past to tell you if you’ll choose to listen. Whether you actually believe such tales is entirely up to your judgment. Lilia is grateful that you listen to him, which only adds more fuel to the fire that is his obsession. You’re just too sweet. How has the world not broken you yet? Or maybe it has and you’re just good at hiding your true feelings. Although he doubts that, considering you’re usually very honest in his presence. And Lilia enjoys honesty.

He doesn’t feel as bad as he should when he leads you astray slowly but surely. You won’t realize you’re walking into his trap until it’s too late and he’s finally able to enjoy your company without any interruptions. He knows what’s best. After all, he is very wise. You mustn’t forget that. It may seem like a difficult thing to adjust to, but Lilia is patient. So incredibly patient. And he’ll always wear the same expression, even when you act like a brat. A calm, almost endearing smile. It’s a smile of understanding. It’s a smile that tells you that he could do this all day. 

Lilia manipulates you in a way that has you reeling when you finally realize his words and actions weren’t as pure as you once thought. As you struggle to accept his love, if such an obsession can even qualify as love—although some days it just feels like blatant, insatiable lust—Lilia downplays all of your protests and emotions. It’s almost insulting when he tells you in a calm voice that running away isn’t safe. If you truly want to go outside, take someone with you, preferably him or someone else who he trusts most. He’s your protector first and foremost, so if there’s anything you ever want to do just tell him and he’ll make it happen. See? He’s very forgiving and generous, allowing you to do as you please so long as it’s acceptable. Now, now, there’s no need to weep or frown. Sometimes it feels like he’s babying you more than anything, dismissing your emotions with halfhearted validation and an empty smile. 

Just when you think you’ve gotten away from him for a moment—and Lilia will allow you to enjoy that moment every now and then—he’ll pop up beside you with a playful grin. You didn’t think you could leave him that easily now, did you? You’ll have to try much harder than that if you want to play a proper game of cat and mouse, sweetheart. Although Lilia wouldn’t prefer to go through the trouble of looking for you, he will track you down every single time. And he always manages to find you no matter what. One day you’ll learn that your fate is to remain by his side, always and forever. Until then, it’s a consistent learning experience for you.

[songtoyou]

Tempting Fate - Part Two

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major, but there is lots of smoking. 

Word Count: 2,080

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

Chapter Summary: As you continue to live in Small Heath, you develop a strong camaraderie amongst its residents. The only one who continues to give you the cold shoulder is Mr. Tommy Shelby. Polly has a conversation with you and her nephew. She seems to know more than she may be letting on about the connection you and Tommy may have. 

A/N: For this story, Esme uses her maiden name and married name, so she goes by Esme Lee-Shelby. This story takes place during season two of the show. May Carleton is mentioned in this chapter and might be making an appearance in later chapters. I like May; she has never bothered me, and I like her “relationship” with Tommy. I did include a Romani phrase in this chapter, which translates to, “Go with God and in good health.” I found the phrase online and hope it is correct. If it isn’t, then I am profoundly sorry and do not wish to offend anyone. That is never my intent. Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe. 

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag List: @owenniasstars​

You settled into Small Heath nicely, even making some friends along the way. Esme Lee-Shelby was one of those friends. When the two of you met, there was an instant connection. Both reminded the other of home, which helped with the homesickness both women tended to feel now and then. Being friends with Esme meant you were around the other Shelby’s, particularly at the family’s company headquarters. You most hung around the betting shop when it was not too busy and when Tommy was not around. You were not naïve to see that the man was not too fond of you for some reason.

Arthur and John would tell you not to pay too much mind to Tommy and explain that he was under a lot of stress.

“Tommy means well, love. He will come around eventually,” John reassured you one day while visiting Esme.

“It is because he likes you, and that probably scares him,” Esme would say, but you merely scoffed at the idea.

“I can admit that Tommy is cute, but he is not my type. He is too frigid. The guy is always so serious. Plus, I can tell he cannot stand the sight of me,” you replied, but Esme waved off your concerns.

“Trust me, Tommy will eventually come around to the point where he will seek out your presence because he will crave it. I have a feeling about it, and I’m never wrong,” assured Esme.

On another day at the betting shop, you stopped by; however, no one was around except for Aunt Polly. At first, the woman intimidated the hell out of you but soon saw the wonderfulness she possessed. She did not take shit from anyone, particularly the men who stopped by the betting shop. She kept everyone in line, including her nephews. You saw how Tommy would confide in Polly on specific business matters whenever the two murmured amongst each other.

“Where is everyone?” you asked, looking around the empty betting shop.

“Slow day,” Polly said, taking a sip of tea and reading a book with her feet up on one of the desks. “John and Esme are currently preoccupied with activities involving the expansion of their family if you know what I mean.”

“Well, that is…wonderful,” you stated sarcastically. “Will you tell Esme I stopped by and that I will see her tonight at The Garrison?”

Before you could leave, Polly called out to you to stay for a little while.

“Come sit with me, let’s talk,” Polly commanded and pointed to a seat for you to take.

You followed her orders and took a seat across from the older woman. She passed you one of her black cigarettes, and you happily accepted. The nicotine of the black cigarette had a pleasant taste to it, you noted.

“So, Tommy informs me that you are part of the Young clan in Cambridgeshire. I’ve met the Youngs; they are good people. Very dependable when one needs help. However, my nephew also shared that you aren’t a Young by blood, is that right?” Polly questioned the other woman.

“That is correct. My mother and father found me when I was a baby, so I am very much a Young,” you replied earnestly.

“Oh, that I can see. Especially in how you have taken it upon yourself to help out most of the Small Heath residents. From menial tasks such as making sure Ms. Wallace gets her weekly groceries, to assisting Old Man Pete and his family in finding their lost dog, and even going so far as to help out at the Yard with Charlie and Curly.”

“I only help with horses. I don’t do any of the moving of equipment or anything if that is what you or Tommy are worried about,” you reassured Polly.

“I wasn’t worried, but of course, Tommy was. You put him on edge,” said Polly with a smirk.

You took another drag of the cigarette, “That is not my fault that your nephew has his qualms about my mere presence in this place. All I am doing is trying to make a living, like everyone else. He has no reasons to doubt my intentions. I am not here to bewitch anyone or partake in any criminal activity that would undermine the Peaky Blinders. I may not have a proper education, but I am not stupid. I don’t have a death wish.”

“No, you don’t have a death wish. You have good intentions that Tommy will see that eventually. He always comes around. Someday, he will come to you because he will need your help,” shared Polly. “I can see things, my dear. I have the gift. I know why you are here. You are looking for your soulmate. Is that correct?”

You let out a sigh, “It is one of the reasons why I am here, yes. I only want to know who this man is; I don’t expect to fall for him. The idea of soulmates doesn’t ring true for me. It is a fabled concept.”

Polly let out a laugh, “Do not be so pessimistic, my girl. You have already met him, but I will let you figure out who it is; that is the fun part.”

As you were about to ask Polly for clarification on what she was talking about, in walked Tommy and stopped when he saw the two of you sitting together.

“Speaking of the devil, here he is, the man of the hour,” teased Polly, at least that is what you thought she was doing. She gave you a wink and put out her cigarette.

“Miss Young,” Tommy stiffly greeted you.

“Mr. Shelby, nice to see you.” While you may tend to put Tommy on edge, he did the same to you, but you were determined to make friends with the man.

When Tommy didn’t reply to your polite phrase, you knew it was your time to leave the premises. “Thank you for the cigarette and the chat, Polly.”

“Any time, dear,” Polly smiled and waved as you exited the betting shop. She saw that you did not say goodbye to Tommy, which she could not blame you.

While Tommy took off his cap and coat, Polly got up from the table and lightly smacked the back of the head. The move completely caught Tommy by surprise as he turned to face his aunt.

“What the hell, Pol!” yelled Tommy, perplexed.

Polly merely shook her head. “Do not have any manners, Thomas?”

“What are you on about?”

With a shake of her head, Polly grabbed her teacup and took a sip. The tea was long since cold. “She is a nice girl, Tommy. Why can’t you see that when everyone else can? What is it about his girl that has you so afraid?”

Lighting his cigarette, Tommy let out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. Everywhere he turned, he saw you. Not only at The Garrison, Uncle Charlie’s Yard, or the streets of Small Heath, he saw you in his dreams. The dreams where you were present brought him peace. He felt protected, which unnerved him since he was not used to the feeling of being safe, not after France.

“She’s me, Pol,” answered Tommy.

“What do you mean she is you, Tom?”

“Before the war. She was exactly how I was before everything changed,” Tommy replied honestly.

“Well, that should be viewed as a good thing. You two match. Why so cold towards this girl?” Polly asked again.

Tommy turned towards his aunt to bluntly say, “Because if I get close to her, then I will ruin her. I don’t think I could live with myself with that thought. I’m damaged goods, Pol. Nothing can save me. No one can save me.”

“Tommy, that is not true,” remarked Polly. “I still see the good in you.”

Tommy got up and headed towards his office, “Then you are wasting your time.”

Later that night at The Garrison, you were filling up drinks and talking to your regular patrons.

Noting was too out of the ordinary, except for the absence of the Shelby brothers. Typically, they would make an appearance, but not tonight.

“Harry, since it is rather slow tonight, do you mind if I head out early?” you asked.

“Sure, no problem, but do you mind coming in early?” Harry asked, which you agreed to do.

You waved goodbye to Harry and left the premises. You bundled your coat higher to offset the cold air and walked towards Charlie’s Yard. Curly mentioned they were getting a new horse for the races, and you wanted to see it. You loved horses, always have since you were a kid.

As you walked down the street, you saw the Shelby brothers exiting the betting shop.

Arthur called out your name, and you turned around to greet him. He asked where you were headed to and answered the Yard. When all three gave you a look, you told them that you wanted to see the new horse Curly kept boasting on about and, therefore, needed to see for yourself.

“I have to see for myself,” you commented.

Before John and Arthur were about to wave goodbye, Tommy spoke up, “I’ll walk you.”

His announcement took his brothers and you by surprise. “Come again?” you asked. You wanted to make sure you heard him correctly.  

“I said I’d walk you to Charlie’s.”

Before you could as Tommy ‘why’ he told his brothers, he would see them later and motioned for you to follow him. The walk to the Yard was quiet, with neither knowing if they should saying anything. Both opted that awkward quietness was probably the best outcome.

You bit the bullet as the quietness was beginning to drive you mad and spoke up. “Where did you find this horse? Curly mentioned you were going to train him for the races.”

“I got him at an auction, and I won’t be training him. I enlisted someone else to do the training to get him the horse ready for Epsom,” explained Tommy, lighting a cigarette. He offered you one as well, but you declined.

Finally arriving at the Yard, you continued to follow Tommy towards where the horse was residing. When you caught sight of the dapple-gray horse, you immediately picked up your speed to get a better look.

“He is beautiful, Curly,” you professed while rubbing your hand across its muzzle. The horse responded positively to you as it licked your hand. “Does he have a name?”

“No name, as of yet,” it was Tommy who spoke up to answer you. While you continued to pet the horse, Tommy quietly stood next to you. He reached over and began stroking the horse’s mane.

“May Carleton is expecting us to bring the horse for her to train in the coming days ahead, we need to get him ready for transport, Charlie,” declared Tommy while continuing to pet the horse. He then walked over to his uncle as the two men began to talk about how to transport the horse.

“It is a shame this horse has to leave,” you said to Curly, who quickly agreed.

When Charlie called Curly over to him, it left you alone with the horse. As you continued to pet the horse’s muzzle, slowly and softly, you placed your head against his, with no objection. The horse remained calm in your presence.

“Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa,” you whispered to the horse.

“Go with God and in good health,” translated Tommy as he stood next to the horse once again. “He’ll be fine, Ms. Young. This horse is going to be taken care of; I will make sure of that, I promise.”

You looked over at Tommy and smiled at him, “Oh, I know, Mr. Shelby. Pyramus knows you will make sure he is in good hands.”

“Pyramus?” Tommy asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That’s his name. Pyramus. It is a mythological name meaning ‘fire.’ It fits him perfectly, don’t you think?”

At that moment, Tommy was taken back by your attentiveness of his horse. He was impressed by how you showed so much care for the creature. He saw how your smile brightened your face and appeared to stir something inside of himself. Something he thought was long gone, his heart.

“Yes, it is. Perfect,” Tommy expressed, but he was no longer talking about the horse.

It was at that moment, where Tommy knew he wanted you.

[aomineavenue]

Homesick (Miya Atsumu x f!Reader) | 007. realizations

Summary: Six years ago, L/N Y/N wouldn’t exactly say that she loves her life. It had always been problematic but her best friend, Miya Atsumu, since she was eight when she moved to Hyōgo, has always been there for her, and she wouldn’t change it for the world. However, things would always fall apart for her ever since, so she should have expected of such. Running away from her problems seemed like the easiest route to take at the time, so what happens when the past comes barging back into her life demanding answers? Will she be able to confront her demons?

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x f!Reader

Updates: irregular.

Genre: Angst, ANGST I LOVE ANGST, a lil bit of fluff here and there.

Warnings: Language, etc. (Will be mentioned once posted because I don’t want spoilers huehue)

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters except for the reader and my ideas. I do not claim any images used for content in this fic, everything goes out to their respective creators unless it is mentioned that it is mine.

Status: ongoing. | series masterlist

↩ dinner disaster | realization | chapter seven bonus  ↪

mia’s note(s): 

another easter egg found here! can you find it? 

i’m so excited because we’re almost done. remember how i said it’s 12 chapters? well, i’ve shortened it ok lmao dont be mad but homesick is almost over hehe 

i would just like to personally thank @newfriendjen​ and @hqstuffsforme​ bcoz they literally give me the motivation I need to continue writing lmao

The model scrunches her features up in annoyance, puffing her cheeks as if she were a child being deprived of sweets. She flickers her attention over to you, her jaw clenching at the mere fact a woman was seated next to him. “Excuse me.” 

You arch an eyebrow, noticing her glowering towards your direction. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” she answers, her eyes betraying the smile she had on, “I believe you’re in my seat.” 

The past few weeks had been exhausting for him, and it wasn’t because of their intense training for upcoming games. His exhaustion’s source was mainly from the most recent important events, it took a toll on him emotionally. While this may be true, he understands there wasn’t anyone to blame but himself. The anger still existed somewhere in his mind, displeasing him whenever his thoughts reminded him of the chances he had lost to take care of his kids at a much younger age, but he had tried his best to subdue those particular emotions ever since that night. Chaotic as it was, it took him a step closer towards the realization of what he really needed to do. All he needed now was a little shove.

“‘Tsumtsum!” he hears her screech, the muscles around his shoulders grow tense. The irony of it all, just as they were discussing that horrendous memory of the Christmas Party just last December that he had tried his best to eradicate from his brain due to his own embarrassment, he couldn’t believe the model in question had instantaneously emerged out of thin air. What was she doing all the way here in Kanagawa? It was as if he had no escape from her suffocating clutches. A quick glance towards his brother and he recognizes the criticizing features sewn on his twin’s features and all he could do was share a silent communication, pleading for his aid. 

Out of all the times this woman could appear, she appears at the very moment where he was sort of, trying, to redeem himself. Silently, he prays as she snakes her arms around his neck, that you, settled next to him, wouldn’t conclude anything from it, but who was he kidding? The position itself was sufficient evidence for you to come up with the conclusion he’s dreading. He can sense everyone’s eyes on him, the irritation they were radiating for such disruption. As she releases another infuriating squeal, this time an inch away from his ear, he pries her hands away from his neck and wraps his fingers around her wrist to pull her to the side. 

Her lower lip juts out to a pout as she stands by the table, ignoring the dirty look he was directing her way. “What’s wrong ‘Tsumtsum? Did you not like my surprise?” 

“Surprise?” he disputes, his brows furrowed in confusion as he releases his grip from her wrist, displeasure evident in his tone as he spoke. “Don’t tell me you were stalking me, Yumi.”  

She folds her arms across her chest and lets out a scoff of disbelief escape her lips, “You make it sound as if I’m not your girlfriend or something!” 

“Well, you aren’t.” he argues, a sigh of frustration escaping his lips, “We’ve talked about this. We’re not together and how did you know I was going to be here anyway?” 

“That’s some serious stalking there, Yumi-san.” Hinata quips from his seat innocently, the other individuals around the table attempt their best to contain their sniggering at the sight of the model going red in the face from both anger and embarrassment. 

She releases a grunt from her lips, sending a glare towards Hinata’s direction before turning her attention back at him, flashing him an innocent smile. “I don’t care what you say, we’re dating. You can’t just drop me like that. What we have is something special, you love me right? You never really said it before, but I know you’re just being shy, ‘Tsumtsum, it’s o—” 

“Please,” He interjects, “Drop it. We’ve discussed this already, Yumi.” 

The model scrunches her features up in annoyance, puffing her cheeks as if she were a child being deprived of sweets. She flickers her attention over to you, her jaw clenching at the mere fact a woman was seated next to him. “Excuse me.” 

You arch an eyebrow, noticing her glowering towards your direction. “Me?” 

“Yes, you.” she answers, her angry eyes betraying the smile she had on, “I believe you’re in my seat.” 

“Yumi!” Atsumu hisses, pushing himself to stand from his seat. “Stop this, right now. We’re trying to have a quiet dinner.” 

Clearing your throat, you avoid the model’s glare as you stand yourself, “I think I’m full, and I’d like to return to the hospital. She can have my seat.” 

“Wait, what?” Reiji chokes, sharing a panic glance over to his current partner in crime across from him. “But we haven’t even gotten to the main course,” 

Yumi squeezes her way towards your seat after pulling you away from where you stood with abrupt force, a happy squeal leaving her lips as she occupies the seat you sat on seconds ago, she turns to look up at you, a smug smile evident in her features, “Safe travels.” 

“Enjoy the rest of your night, everyone.” you bid, bowing your head slightly before your feet take off towards the exit of the restaurant. 

“Good riddance, if you ask me.” Yumi scoffs with a wave of her hand to capture everyone’s attention. She claps her hands together excitedly as she looks up at Atsumu, “I missed you so much, ‘Tsumtsum! You never bring me to dinners with your friends, this is so exciting for our relation—” 

As Reiji was practically seething from the side like a predator ready to pounce an attack towards its enemy for disrespecting his best friend like that, and from the sudden thought of regret entering his mind of how he shouldn’t have trusted Atsumu for not doing anything. However, such thoughts were crushed almost instantly at the sight of the furious glare Atsumu was sending over to the model that was seated uninvitedly on your seat. 

The sight of a furious Atsumu was enough to send a chill through her spine, as she was about to try to soothe the volleyball player by reaching out for him, he slaps her hands away which causes her to whimper, jutting her lower lip out to pout. “What did I do?” 

“Are you serious, Yumi?” he snaps, nails burying into his palms to restrain his growing irritation, “I can’t believe you would do that.” 

“Why does it matter?” she whines, trying to reach out for him once again, only to fail as he steps back further, “Are you serious right now? Who was that bitch anyway?” 

Reiji interrupts, his voice full of venom from behind the model, “I’d watch your tongue if I were you.” 

“Whatever,” she stutters, attempting to look unfazed by the singer’s words by rolling her eyes but her quivering posture radiated otherwise, “She shouldn’t matter, ‘Tsumtsum, let’s just continue dinner.” 

“What are you? A child?” Osamu intrudes, not able to hold back his tongue any longer from this model’s personality, “Stop calling my brother such a horrendous nickname like a squealing pig.” 

An offended gasp escaped her lips, glowering towards Osamu, “He likes it when I call him that, so sucks to be you! And I’m not a child, I’m a fully grown woman.” 

“Could have fooled me,” Asuma mutters underneath his breath. 

Yumi lets out a grunt. “Tell them, baby. You like it when I call you—Where are you going?” 

He doesn’t spare her a glance, weaving his way through the restaurant to run after you, “I hate that nickname.” 

Before Yumi could stand up and follow after him, her path was blocked by the other individuals around the table who had stood up the second they realized Atsumu’s plan of action. “What are you doing? Let me through! You’re all going to regret this!” 

Yumi’s screech was the last thing Atsumu heard as he steps out of the restaurant, a part of him feeling bad for his friends being left to deal with Yumi’s ridiculous antics and well, for the other people in the restaurant that might have had their ears traumatized. He never really understood what he saw in her in the first place, it was Yumi who had approached him in the beginning anyway. He should have listened to Osamu instead. 

He looks around frantically, wanting to be able to catch up to you. He needed to talk to you, to apologize for Yumi’s behavior. He was just hoping that, somehow, he still had a chance to fix things with you. Hopefully, Yumi’s appearance hadn’t ruined those chances. 

He catches a glimpse of your retreating figure walking towards the nearest bus station and he feels his heart soar, you haven't gone too far yet. He doesn’t waste any more time than he already has, sprinting towards your direction, calling out your name.

At the sound of his voice, your name rolling off of his tongue in desperation, you turn your head to look back with confusion. He reaches you almost instantly after you pivot your body to face his direction. Despite looking flustered as he catches his breath, he takes your breath away. 

“Oh, sorry.” a feminine voice interrupts his train of thought through memory lane, causing him to turn around, startled, “I didn’t realize someone was already occupying the balcony.” 

He lets out an awkward laugh, shaking his head, “No, it’s okay. It’s not like I’d stop you, I don’t own the space or anything.” 

“So you don’t mind if I share your space? The party inside is kind of suffocating.” she lets out a sigh, avoiding his gaze sheepishly. 

“I don’t mind at all,” he nods, tearing his gaze away from her as she steps out onto the balcony. He returns his gaze over to the buildings of Shinjuku, the different bright hues from various buildings painting the night sky.

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

He hums softly, lifting the cold bottle of Sapporo up to his lips to take a quick sip. He lets out a sigh, “Just some stuff, it’s nothing really.” He turns to look over at her when she steps towards the edge of the balcony near him, “Wait, aren’t you Tobio-kun’s sister? The sports journalist?” 

She lets out a laugh with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I’m glad I’ve made a name for myself then for some of the players here to recognize me. Though, I don’t think I appreciate being known as Tobio’s sister, not that I’m not proud of my brother or anything.”

“Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean to.” he states sheepishly.

She shakes her head, offering him a small smile. “It’s okay, no worries. You realize the party is inside, don’t you? I think I heard Bokuto-san looking for you or something.” 

“I suppose I’m not really in the mood right now,” he mutters underneath his breath, looking back up ahead. “Not really in the right mind space. I don’t really know why I’m telling you this, you’re a journalist.” 

She pouts, “I’m not as bad as those gossiping sharks. I prefer to actually produce worthy news. Speaking of news, you’ve been everywhere lately. I suppose it’s hard for you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself if that happens.” 

“I don’t mind it,” he admits, his forehead creasing.

“Pardon?” 

He lets out another sigh, shifting his position so his back is leaning against the railing of the balcony, “I don’t mind it. I just wish she was left out of things. She doesn’t deserve such slander.” 

“I suppose the woman associated in the news with you actually means something to you then,” she muses, “I always thought that model Yumi was irritating. I’m sure her fame will fly out the window sooner or later.” 

He lets out a scoff of irritation, taking another swig of the beer in his hand, “Don’t even remind me of her.” 

“She’s not really well liked either,” the journalist beside him snickers, “Don’t worry about it too much, you’ll grow wrinkles. Say, Miya-san, do you love her?” 

He’s startled by the direct question, if it were not for his tight grip around the beer bottle, it would have slipped from his fingers and came crashing to the floor. No one, not even his brother, had asked him such a question. He never really thought about it, but ever since that night, you were all he could think about. “It’s complicated.” 

“A lot of things are complicated.” she starts, tilting her head back up to look at the dark sky from the penthouse balcony, “There will always be complications, you know. But, do you know what’s the bright side of it?” 

He turns his head to look over at her in curiosity, “What?” 

She lets out a heavy sigh, a sad smile forming on her lips. “For each complicated situation we are in, the only person who can deal with such complications, is ourselves. Everything is in our hands. The only question you should be asking yourself is, what is the outcome you wish to have? Then from there, I’m sure you’ll be able to find a solution to your complicated situation.”

“I wish it were that easy,” he frowns, fluttering his eyelids shut as he lets the cold night breeze brush against his skin. 

A laugh escapes her lips, “Nothing is ever easy. Life would be boring if that were the case. But all I can say is, it’s really up to you whether you want to take action or not.” 

A comfortable silence engulfs the two occupants on the balcony, the soft chatter from the V.League Association party almost seemed it were music flowing throughout the large penthouse, the usual busy streets of Shinjuku were quiet as the time flew by, signalling how late it had gotten. 

“Thank you,” Atsumu breaks the silence, a small smile playing on his lips. 

She nods her head, returning his smile with her own, “It’s nothing, really. I may not know what’s really happening, but I know the feeling of being part of a complicated situation. Trust me, I’m having a hard time following my own advice.” 

“I’m sure you’ll—” 

“Am I interrupting something?” 

The two switch their attention over to the man that steps into the comfortable space, Atsumu flickering his gaze back and forth to the woman next to him and the volleyball player that made his appearance. He notes the stiff posture of the woman who had been accompanying him and he comes to the conclusion that it was his cue to leave. “Ah, no Ushijima-san. I believe you’re looking for this one, so I’ll leave you two to it.” 

Before Atsumu could leave the two to talk, the woman calls out his name. He glances back over his shoulder, capturing a glimpse of her encouraging smile. “If you love her, you should let her know.”

He gives her an appreciative smile before stepping back inside of the penthouse, the murmur of a chatter earlier from the balcony becoming more clear and loud. Placing the half-empty bottle of Sapporo down on a surface in the lounging area, he glances over at the digital wall clock. 

An hour until midnight. It would take him at least an hour or so to travel back to Kanagawa from Shinjuku.

Not wasting another second, despite the calls from his teammates, he leaves the party with determination. 

The thin hospital blanket you had requested earlier from a nurse barely gave you any warmth, your body engulfed in a chilly embrace. Not even curling up your body to a fetal position and clinging the white sheets closer gave you any source of heat. 

Letting out a groan of frustration, you push the blankets away and shift your body to a sitting position on the rather uncomfortable armchair provided by the hospital, giving up on sleep for the meantime. Aside from the murmur produced from the air conditioner and the steady beeping of Atsuhiro’s vitals indicating a healthy heartbeat from the monitor, it was too silent for your liking. 

You realize it was almost midnight after a quick glance at the digital clock that rested on the surface of the side table next to Atsuhiro’s bed, and you couldn’t help but let out a heavy sigh. At least Atsuhiro was sleeping peacefully. It had taken a while before he had gotten used to sleeping in another bed that wasn’t his, often waking up in the middle of the night or not being able to sleep at all. 

The sound of shuffling breaks your train of thought and you shift your attention over to your sleeping mother who you insisted occupied the small couch. A little sore back was nothing of an appreciation for your mother’s attentiveness to your sons. She had refused to return back to Hyōgo until Atsuhiro had been discharged from the hospital, and despite it taking awhile since there hadn’t been a suitable donor for him yet, not a single complaint had left your mother’s mouth. 

You couldn’t help but shoulder the burden of the delay on finding Atsuhiro a donor, the past weeks had been hectic and stressful. And if you were going to be honest, ever since that disaster of a dinner, you had been putting off the idea of having the much needed talk with Atsumu. You were just thankful that Atsuhiro’s condition hadn’t worsened since then.

You were, more or else, afraid, of where or how the conversation was going to end. The doubt you had was not just because of your insecurities, but it was also because, since that night, you hadn’t heard from Atsumu himself. You couldn’t blame him, the night had ended in disaster as well, nor was the morning after very pleasant from being bombarded with strings of questions from your friends. 

Fame. 

It was something you never got used to despite your friends being in a boy band for so long. You were now under the spotlight, and what was worse was that after some thorough digging by crazy fans, your sons, your precious sons, had been dragged through mud. However, you were grateful for certain fans, the fans of Galaxy Standard in particular, had defended you without much of a command from their idols. As soon as your name, and your kids, were mentioned, they immediately jumped in to defend you. Bless their souls. 

Although, you still couldn’t believe it yourself of the events that occurred right after you had exited the restaurant, intent on returning to the hospital. 

The already dreadful night takes a turn for the worst, the annoying high pitched shrill being repeated causing you to wince as the woman who had completely ruined, well, a already ruined dinner made her way through the threshold of little sanity that you had left and closed the gap between her and Atsumu by wrapping her arms around his neck from behind where he sat, she was dangerously standing close to you, more so enough for you to maybe stab your chopsticks to her side for her pesky squealing. What is she trying to imitate? A tortured pig? 

You didn't bother to cease your eye roll, this is Atsumu's type? Now, you know you aren't all that amazing or anything and looking at the woman clinging to Atsumu, she looked all around amazing, it was pretty obvious that she was a model. However, the personality she was exhibiting was nowhere near your expectations of the women Atsumu would date. It was overbearing. 

Instead of dealing with such ridiculous antics from a grown woman acting like a child, you decide it was best to find an excuse to leave. As the opportunity presented itself on a silver platter, you took it without any hesitation despite the quiet protests of Reiji from behind you. Exhaustion had left you with little sanity and dealing with someone like Yumi, well, you weren’t having it. 

Saying your polite goodbye, you left without another word, ignoring the pleading looks from your friends. It wasn’t as if you were angry or anything, maybe just a tad on the jealous side when Yumi had introduced herself as Atsumu’s girlfriend, but either than that, you just wanted a quiet night. The rowdy bunch was already enough to drain you, but having to deal with someone like Yumi? Yeah, no thanks. 

Stepping out of the restaurant, you shiver from the rush of cold air that brushes against the exposed patches of skin, making you silently regret not bringing a jacket with you. Instead of dwelling on your silly mistake, you wrap your arms around yourself for your momentary source of warmth, rubbing your exposed arms with your soft palms, it would have to do for the meantime. 

Luckily, you were familiar with the area since you’ve been to the restaurant more times than you can count, that despite not having a ride back to the hospital, you were at least knowledgeable of the area. You began your journey towards the nearest bus stop, knowing it was still fairly early since the dinner hadn’t even progressed that far yet. Somehow, despite being irritated by Yumi's presence, you were grateful for intrusion, at least you would be able to return to Atsuhiro earlier than expected. You’d have to give Shizuma a call once you return to the hospital to check on Atsuhiko. 

Thankfully, the walk to the nearest bus stop was short, because walking in heels was never something you adored, wincing already from the discomfort. You couldn’t wait to take them off for much more comfortable shoes. However, as you neared the bus stop, you hear his pleading shouts of your name and you halt almost instantly. For a moment, you wondered if it were just in your head, but at the sound of shouts mixed with hurried steps grew louder, your heart swells weirdly in your chest. Spinning around, you come to face Atsumu, catching his breath, his hands on his knees. 

“What…?” you mutter under your breath, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be entertaining your girlfriend back there?” 

As he regains his composure, he pushes himself to stand properly, meeting your gaze instantly. His gaze catching your breath in your throat. Mesmerizing. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he shakes his head, looking at you with sincerity in his eyes, “I promise.” 

The corners of your mouth tug down to a frown, “Why are you telling me this, Atsumu? It’s fine. You’re not obligated to tell me who you’re dating. Just because we have kids together, doesn’t mean we should fix our shit and get togeth—” 

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts, causing your eyes to widen briefly before your brows furrowed in confusion from his apology. Sensing your confusion, he continues, “I’m sorry for everything. For our shitty past, for not treating you better, for not realizing my idiotic ways. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things.” 

You press your lips to a thin line, racking your brain for a response. Well, what were you supposed to say? You had imagined this before, imagined what it would be like when Atsumu apologizes for things, and back then, you would have seen yourself rejecting his apologies, but as you stood there at that very moment, you couldn’t find the anger that you had. Then, you realized. This was Atsumu. 

Your best friend since you were eight years old, the one person that always bothered and teased you to no end, but no matter what, you could never find yourself being mad at him for a long period of time. You were always quick to forgive him. 

“And, I’m sorry for this,” he breaks your train of thought and you wonder what he means for a second, but as he closes the gap between the two of you as he cups your cheeks in his hands, you don’t fight back. 

You let him bring your face closer to his. 

You don’t fight back. 

Not even when his lips had found its rightful place against your own. 

You are pulled from your thoughts at the sound of knocking echoing throughout the quiet room, not realizing how your fingers have found their way against your lips, brushing along its luscious shape, almost as if you were reminiscing the sensation of his lips. 

The sound of knocking interrupts you once more and for a second, you had thought you had imagined it, but as it was repeated a few more times, you began wondering who it might be. After crossing the room in long strides, you slide the door open, eyes widening at the man standing before you.

“I love you.” 

[morepeachyogurt]

we are good people (and we've suffered enough)

word count- 2.5k      Pairing- Temily

Summary- After Scratch, Tara and Emily run away to Italy to start a new life, ft. cats, cafes, and gardening. Based on this post, and this prompt. 

Part 2 of my, maybe we’re from the same star, series, work is a standalone, part 1

read here on ao3

tw’s- very minor mentions of substances and ptsd

Things were never the same after Mr. Scratch. The two of them were filled with more trauma than they had room for in their hearts to still hold each other in. Nights were no longer filled with a movie and cuddling, or talking about philosophy but tense sentences, paranoia, and nightmares. Tara knew that something needed to change, anything to stop the monotony of desolation. But still, they went to work every day and drowned their sorrows in killers like that would bring back the part of her that died when Scratch took Emily. There are only so many times one can be held captive and wait for death before something inside them breaks.

One night they get wine drunk, Emily laying sidewise on their black couch, and Tara sitting on the table staring at the ceiling.

“I miss being young, god, that’s such a weird thing to say. I mean, I spent my youth hating it. Hated my mother, and all of our traveling, never could make friends. I hated that I never belonged, hated not being in control of my own life, and here I am 50 years old working for the government that I used to despise trying not to cry myself to sleep every night,” her voice takes on a bitter tone.

“We love in our old age the things we hated as children. Does that make us matured or foolish?”

“Both, I think.”

“What was your favorite place to live? I mean it sounds like hell to keep moving between places but there must have been someplace you loved, right,” Tara’s voice fills with a tang of desperation as she searches for a way to help her lover.

“Rome. The weather and the scenery,” her voice takes on a dreamy tone, “and the food! Man, the food is good, don’t tell Rossi but his carbonara tastes like Olive Garden compared to the real thing,” they both chuckled at that, knowing it would have sent Rossi in a fit if he were to hear that.

“That sounds really nice honey.”

“I miss it sometimes you know? I think about how gorgeous everything was. It feels like home in my distant memories.”

“Then let’s do it. Lets, go move to Rome. You aren’t happy here Emily, I know you say you are, but you do this job for our team, not the position now. I miss when you laughed,” both of them sobered up by now, knowing that it has taken a turn for the more serious.

“No, no we can’t. I, I can’t keep leaving this team and our friends. And, people need us. You love this job Tara I can’t take that away from you, not for me.”

“They’d understand Emily, they all love you so much. Yeah, I love this job, I won’t lie. But, I love you more, and I’m not happy if you aren’t. So let’s do it. Let’s fucking run away to Rome together and be happy .” The two sit in silence for a minute, the unanswered question still hanging in the air.

“Okay. Let’s do it. Maybe I’ll fulfill my long-lost dream to have a nice, big garden.”

The team took it surprisingly well, they’d all noticed a change in Emily in the months following Scratch and knew that Tara had Emily’s best interest at heart. Of course, they were sad to lose two of the best members of their team, but Emily was family, and family looks out for each other.

“I’m going to miss you my favorite dynamic duo and your guys’ jokes. Ugh, it’s going to be so quiet without you two lovely ladies,” her eyes are welling with unshed tears as she says goodbye to more of her family, “Send me things from Rome or I will install a virus in your phones,” they both laughed at Penelope’s antics and promised her that they’d send as much stuff as they could. The last two weeks of their stay in the United States were filled with mixed emotions. They were excited to start the next chapter of their lives together. Away from all the serial killers and monstrous people out there. They could finally live with a fraction of the naivety that most people carry. On the other hand, Tara only speaks minimal Italian, and now they’re going to be living in a brand-new country, surrounded by strangers. A fresh start, but one filled with anxiety.

“Okay 4:30 is way too early for a flight,” Emily grumbled as they made their way to the airport. The pair had woken up at three, knowing that Tara can’t sleep on planes they tried to go to bed early and were now making their way to the airport in the dead of morning.

“Wait, babe, look! It’s a full moon,” they pulled over just for a moment and got out of the car to sit on the hood. The silence between the two is peaceful, the wind was the only whisper in the air. Moonlight shone on Tara’s face and Emily knew that there was no sight in the world as beautiful as this. With the moon reflected in her eyes and a small simple ghosting on her lips. She’s home.

Security was a breeze, they are former FBI agents after all, and they made their way to their gate. Airports always have a certain air to them, a place where time seizes to exist yet completely runs the place. Their gate was quiet, filled with the tired murmuring of people excited to travel.

“Tara, honey, wake up we’re boarding.”

It was odd for the two of them to be flying commercial after all those years on private jets. It was nice to feel normal though, to fade in the background instead of being other . Human desire is both to be noticed and forgotten all at once.

Italy’s airport is very similar to the DC airport, it would seem like they never left. Outside was a whole different story, bustling crowds and hot air hits them as soon as they step outside the building. They had picked out a quaint apartment building a week prior. Yellow walls with a terrace looking out to an alley. The couple's belongings had been shipped and were waiting to be unpacked. Not right then though. Now, it was time to explore.

Hand in hand they walked leisurely down the narrow alley way of the small Italian town they are now calling their home. Vines and every other type of plant that could grow did. Hanging off banisters, and climbing up orange brick walls. The sunlight was close to blinding, and it hit Emily just right. The golden rays hitting her face and illuminating the ghost of the smile now appearing on Emily’s face. That smile told Tara all she needed to know about their decision. Emily catches her staring, “What are you looking at,” humor evident in her voice.

“You, I’m looking at you miss Emily Prentiss. You’re smiling again,” her words come out softer than she intended, but they convey her point.

Happy couples seem to fill the streets, old and new, young and old. The town may be old, but it was filled with a life that they had been lacking. They pass a quaint little bakery. Bread, cupcakes, and assorted pastries fill the windows. There're bookshelves on all the walls filled to the brim with different books. The walls are light blue and there are flowers everywhere. It looks like something from the movies.

“Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” Emily reads the name of the building in front of them, they’ve since stopped to admire the view in front of them. It reminds the two of them how Emily asked Tara out. With a cupcake and book who had ‘I know there’s plenty of sugar in that cupcake but it’d be even sweeter if you went out with me. Let me take you to dinner Tara? ’ written on the inside.

“As much as I love hearing you speak Italian, what does that mean? Something heaven?”

“Little Slice of Heaven.” It’s truly a perfect name for the place.

“Okay, now we have to go in,” they’re both smiling now. They push open the glass doors, greeted by the high-pitched ringing of a bell and the smell of freshly baked bread.

The woman at the counter finishes the greeting, “Benvenuti nel piccolo angolo di paradiso, cosa posso offrirvi, adorabili signore?” they blush at the compliment and Emily orders them both cupcakes and coffee. Tara busies herself with admiring the books. Some of them have the most beautiful covers she’s seen. She knows not to judge a book by its cover but sometimes the most beautiful things are just as gorgeous on the inside as out. Just like Emily. She buys a book, and they take their drink and desserts to go. They make their way to a waterfront and sit down on the stairs, side by side.

“Rome is just as beautiful as I remembered. I missed it. It really does feel like home, although, anywhere I’m with you is home,” at the end of her sentence, she turns to face Tara, a look of pure love shown clearly on her face. And for that, Tara just has to kiss her.

The next day they unpack their boxes of belongings into their apartment to help rid the homesickness. Paintings go up on the walls and furniture is placed with the best view in mind. After a couple of hours they’re done, their apartment a bit more homey than before. They crack open a bottle of wine, put on an album, and sit out on the terrace. They watch the sun set over the water, the sounds of big band music filter in as the soundtrack for their night. The sky painted yellow, orange, and pink in the way only nature can create. If nature were an artist they’d be in every museum and sold to the wealthy. Instead, they are for the masses, the beauty of nature is for all to enjoy, free of cost, for those who wish to escape and fly into the night sky.

“You know what I’ve always wanted to do?” Tara leans forward on the balcony, not taking her eyes off the view in front of her, even as the colors begin to fade the sky darkens.

“No, tell me, what?”

“I always wanted to open my own bakery. I know it’s stupid, me a baker. But, I don’t know making things, it feels so uncomplicated. Just me and the dough.”

“In this alternate universe, I’d be a gardener. You and your dough and me and my flowers against the world Tara. Wait a second. I think you and I are onto something my dear,” Emily’s joined Tara at the balcony, the two of them leaning against the railing.

“Actually? You’re serious? You want to do this.?”

“Yeah! Why not? We’ve got enough money in the bank for us to last a bit, you can work at Un Piccolo Angolo di Paradiso,” the Italian rolls of her tongue in a way that drives Tara nuts, “I’ll find a gardening place to work at. We’re in fucking Italy let’s make our dreams come true.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

Alessia, the owner of the bakery, is pleased to have another employee. Especially one that is actually interested and isn’t in high school. Tara learns the basics of bread and pastry making. She has some skill, she used to bake with her mother before she died, it had been awhile since she had been able to bake without bumming herself out. Now it’s a nice memory of her. Gone but not forgotten, as is the saying. Emily comes in every lunch break for whatever Tara’s whipped up and to get her caffeine fix. One of the things that she still keeps from her law enforcement days.

They aren’t perfect. A move across the country isn’t going to cure PTSD, she has good days, bad days, and worse days, but now they have the time to deal with it. There was never anytime to process things at the FBI. It was always, distract yourself and throw yourself into solving cases. Now they can slow dance in the kitchen and stay up until three am telling stories from college. They fill their days with the happiness that was once stolen from them and bathe in it like perfume.

True to their word, they send Penelope all sorts of things, books from the café, pressed flowers, trinkets from the small shops to adorn her desk. In return, she sends them pictures of Sergio.

“I miss Sergio, his little paws, and his ability to climb on top of anything.”

Emily finds a job at a nearby garden that sells flower arrangements and herbs to local restaurants. It’s convenient, more than they would have thought. Emily now gets to stop into the bakery on occasion to deliver herbs and has plenty of flowers to give her lover. She also sends a few bouquets back to DC. Hoping that the flowers can brighten up the office in a way that fluorescent lights never can.

On one of their late afternoon walks, they hear a rustling by a trash can.

“What’s that noise?”

“I don’t know, let’s go look, it almost sounds like an animal. Could be a mouse,” Emily suggests, absently reaching to where her gun used to rest on her hip. They open the bag to find three small kittens. Seemly abandoned in a corner.

“Oh god, they’re so cute. We have to keep them.” It’s not a question, Tara knows that Emily is thinking the same thing, their minds connected in the way people who love each other’s minds always are. They look up the nearest veterinarian to make sure that their new pets are okay to take home and healthy.

The vet is sterile and a stark reminder of all the hospitals they’ve spent time in. Tara squeezes her girlfriend’s hand to remind her that they are both safe .

“They look fairly health, a bit malnourished but that is to be expected in these circumstances,” the vet is an elderly man with a mustache as thick as his accent,

“I’ve give them the shots they need, for now, come back in few months and let me take another look. Ciao.”

The kittens are fast asleep by the time they make it home. They gently scoop the kittens out of the bag and into their arms and the couch.

“Okay, what are we naming these angels?” Emily’s voice is pitched up as she talks to the kitten in her arms.

“Well, I’ve always been a classics enthusiast, what if we name them Artemis and Apollo?”

“That’s adorable. Little tiny archery kitties, yes, isn’t that right!” she coos, “And I think I’ll name this one Carter.”

“I love it, and you. Come on, sit with me, you look tired,” Tara grabs Emily’s hand and pulls her onto the couch. They fall over a bit and Emily yelps in surprise. They put the old music back on, a sense of peaceful needs for their new lives. The two sit on the couch, Emily’s head in her girlfriend’s lap, a hand playing with her hair. Apollo climbs on Emily’s feet and lays down to rest.

“I love you, Tara,” she doesn’t respond, just lays a gentle kiss to the back of her head.

The world is big and scary but the two of them feel safe in each other's arms.

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[sardinesandhumbugs]

If you're still doing the musical writing prompts, could you do 45, maybe with Mole?

Of course I can! 45 was “Home. I've heard heard the word before, but it never meant much more than just a thing I've never had” from a Very Potter Sequel. Sorry for the long delay, nonny, but hopefully it was worth the wait! It certainly turned out longer than expected.

x

"The important thing about having lots of things to remember is that you’ve got to go somewhere afterwards where you can remember them, you see? You’ve got to stop. You haven’t really been anywhere until you’ve got back home."

The Light Fantastic, Terry Pratchett

x

If someone had asked Mole what home was before that fateful spring morn, his answer would have been easy.

Home was the cosy, still air of beneath-ground. It was the door jamb that stuck and the window that leaked. It was the carols that alighted his porch each winter, the smell of jams being prepared in the autumn, and the dust that made him sneeze every spring cleaning. It was found in solid things that marked the passage of time as surely as clockwork in the sunless tunnels. (Clockwork marked the hours, and seasons marked the year, and everything else between was of little consequence.)

Several months on, and his answer is no longer so sure.

The first hint – at least, the first hint he takes notice of – that it is no longer the clear-cut divide of holiday verses home comes in the fright of the Wild Wood, so far from either.

(If he had been taking notice, he perhaps would have seen the spare glasses that now live at Ratty's riverside residence, the household chores that are shared without comment, or the divide in the larder that Ratty has made for Mole's more species-specific snacks. But he hasn't been taking notice, and such things have passed him by in the comfort of a new normality.)

So Mole is far from home (either, both) when Ratty finds him. They are both scared and shaken, but there is no doubt in Ratty's voice with the question, "Wouldn't you rather just go home?" as if home couldn't be anywhere but the river. Maybe (probably) for Ratty it's true (he had certainly once proclaimed it to be his food, his drink, his company – his world) but for Mole, the word is an altogether more complicated affair.

In that moment, however, he longs for the sunlit riverbank.

It is only later, when they settle into the familiar underground air of Badger's sett, that Mole remembers Mole End at all. It lasts only briefly – they have so many other issues at hand, namely that of the disastrous Toad – but it is enough to give him pause. It leaves him stranded between betrayal and mutiny. Betrayal, for his hasty abandonment of his home, and mutiny as he realises he does not want to give up his newfound riverbank life.

But when it comes to it, it doesn't really matter – not in Badger's sett, nor in his brief yuletide return to Mole End – because in the end, at Mole End, he looks to Ratty and knows that he'll follow wherever his friend goes.

(The feeling, though Mole does not realise it at the time, is mutual. Although in Ratty's case, the stubborn loyalty had made itself known months ago, back when he chose the open road over his river – if only for a passing season. Even so, he has never had cause to doubt (not even on the open road, not really) that his river might not be enough to tempt even the most stalwart undergrounder to linger a while longer – but Ratty looks to his friend, surrounded by his titular home, and realises Mole is as much of the earth as he is of the river and that one day it may reclaim him.)

x

It is the week following Toad's grand party that life eventually settles back to the point that Mole can finally turn his mind to more homeward bound matters. For as life has calmed – as adventures and escapes and daring retakings have made way for the more mundane reality of day-to-day living – he realises another spring is on its way out, a year has passed, and he is in danger of becoming rooted to the riverbank. There is the scent of summer on the horizon, thick and heady, and a strange sensation he hesitates to call homesickness lingers in him. It whispers of dirt and earth and it makes his claws itch until he can stand it no longer and he knows – he knows he must return.

He attempts to casually bring up the subject as they clear away dinner.

"I'm thinking," he says, "of returning to Mole End." Ratty's step falters, if only for a moment. "Just for a few days," Mole adds. "I thought I might get some of that spring cleaning done that I never finished from last year."

"We'll make a trip of it then," Ratty suggests brightly, and if Mole knew him just a little less well, he might believe the forced cheer – but he does know him that well and he reads past the façade. "I've never picnicked underground before, but there's a first for everything–"

"Just me, I think," Mole interrupts. "It's just a little tidy up; there's no reason to drag both of us there."

"Oh." Ratty falters again. There's some unease at the sure exclusion, but there's a trace of relief too; underground is still a discomfort to the riverbank-born animal although, if Mole is being brutally honest with himself, his reason for returning alone is more to do with his own needs than Ratty's.

He is not brutally honest. At least not this time. But he suspects Ratty has him figured all the same, for he lingers by the door, watching as Mole packs up a few choice belongings to accompany him to Mole End. Ratty's stance is nonchalant, but the way he talks of their plans after Mole's return feels like he is eking out a promise he isn't sure Mole will keep.

Mole senses enough of this to hold his tongue when it comes to the strange homesickness that has stolen over him. He has learnt enough of his friend to know the comment, however innocuous, however true his intent to return to the riverbank, will do little to help. And it will recede, if only he can ground himself in the underground existence that has served him well all the years previous – but for that, he must go alone. Ratty would bring with him the reminder of the sunny shore above, of rivers and boats that turned his head in the first place.

And the strange homesickness does settle back in Mole End – momentarily. Beneath the ground, the muggy summer loses its grip and the air is steady, constant. It is a refuge from the humidity that stifles Mole – Mole, who has never considered claustrophobia, but when the air grows heavy and airless in the sway of summer, it is all he can do to retreat to north-facing rooms and wait out the heat. But in the bowels of the earth, the seasons are muted and he sleeps sounder for it.

He oversleeps. He assures himself that it is the comfort of a long-familiar bed, but part of him wonders if he has grown too accustomed to the wake-up call of the morning chorus and the sunrise – if he is not so much an undergrounder as he was a year ago.

His underground instincts sated, he turns his attention to more practical considerations. The door jamb that sticks and the window that leaks is all well and good through the lens of nostalgia, but it is quite another kettle of fish when it comes to tending to them. And as he adds yet another chore to the list (a home neglected, he realises, continues to decay with, or perhaps because of, its owner's absence) Mole End seems to shift from cosy to tired. He knows it not to be as grand as Toad Hall, nor as chronicled in history as Badger's sett, and certainly not as comfortably ship-shape as Ratty's place, but the reality settles in about him as he stands, frozen, with the chore list in paw.

What Mole End is, is dark and dim and shabby.

And, worst of all, that homesickness has returned.

He is an underground animal – or was, once upon a time. Now he is not so sure, for while his burrow calls, so does the bright sun-filled air above... and he doesn't think there is a word for an animal that holds both worlds in their soul.

Home. this place is home, he tells himself, but the definition has shifted, expanded, grown in his year's absence, and he doesn't know what to do with that.

His reverie is broken by a knocking at his door, and he finds his porch crowded by four very familiar animals. Mole gapes for a moment until Toad bounces in.

"So this is Mole End, eh? Naturally, it's not as grand as Toad Hall but then, of course, what is?"

"Toad, be civil," Badger warns.

Mole squeezes out of the way as the large mammal enters. "It's only a small home," he says, apologetic. "I'm afraid it's going to be a little snug with everyone here–"

"Don't you worry about that, pet," Mrs Otter assures as she follows after the others. "Snug is my home with the pups on a regular day."

Mole turns to the last animal yet to enter. Ratty stands at the threshold, hesitant as if wary of a boundary overstepped. "I know you said you wanted to attend to this alone," Ratty says – he shifts the trusty luncheon basket between his paws – "but it's been three days and, well" – a wan smile – "I've seen your attempts at spring cleaning. I figured you might appreciate the help if you were still at it."

"So you brought Toad along?"

Mole's humour seems to mollify Ratty's nerves, for the water rat's smile turns rueful. "Toad brought himself along."

Mole leans in with a conspiring whisper. "Do you think he even knows what a broom is?"

There is an almighty sneeze from Badger as Toad unsettles a layer of dust from the kitchen cupboards.

Ratty grins. "Do you?" The humour, however, is as quick to go as it was to arrive, and as he watches the other animals descend upon Mole End he glances back to his usual housemate with unease. "Of course, if you'd rather we left you to it, naturally we can–"

Mole commandeers the basket. "Stay." He doesn't mean it to sound such like an order, but for all his previous bluster, he suddenly doesn't want the newcomers to leave. For despite the extra shadows they cast, Mole End somehow feels brighter than before in a manner not quite tangible. "And, just between you and me," he adds as he ushers his friend inside, "I hadn't got that far with the cleaning."

There's another sneeze from Badger that sets the lanterns swinging, and a fresh falling of dust scatters down from above.

Another grin from Ratty. "You don't say?"

Badger wastes no time in assessing the undertaking ahead. He settles back into that same role as in the retaking of Toad Hall, distributing the chores with little fuss, and quietly Mole is glad for it, because the task of Mole End has become overwhelming in the past few days.

Regardless of the nature of the housework, it is humour, not tedium, that springs up. And at some point in this collective effort – between the idle conversations and the laughter and the "Where's the duster – I swear I left it here just a moment ago" – Mole End sheds its overcrowded air. Nothing palpable changes, for the occupants continue to fall over one another and Badger still has to duck his head through doorways, but somewhere in the midst of all this it has become cosy, not cramped.

Somewhere in that space, that strange homesickness has quelled.

Mole realises this midway through restoring the peeling wallpaper back to its proper place, teetering on a stepladder while Ratty applies paste to the paper's underside. He falters in his task to take note – to truly take note – of his friends. To listen to the bustle of Mrs Otter as she strips the beds, and the jabbering of Toad as he regales her with some loosely-related story. (Mole believes it is his experiences from the open road; a period in which Toad categorically did not take to the chores like a duck to water, whatever he is emphatically telling Mrs Otter.) Further off, there is something that sounds suspiciously like humming, coming from Badger as he inspects the tunnels for natural wear-and-tear, partnered with his sure steps and the tap of his cane.

Mole lingers too long in thought, and his balance flounders. Ratty catches the ladder before it can tip and his laughter is both familiar and new as it bounces across the earthen walls in an echoing reprise.

Home. this place is home, Mole realises, and the definition has shifted, expanded, grown in his year's absence.

And he's okay with that.

[spiteweaver]

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(Note: this story takes place in May of 2020!)

--

Feldspar was livelier than Eileen had imagined. Warm light shone from every window she passed, laughter pouring from them like clear champagne, and the capital’s narrow, labyrinthine streets were full to bursting. Up above, a full moon hung high in the dark sky. Midnight was fast approaching, and with Brightshine Jubilee nearly a full eon away, the territories’ residents should have long since closed up shop and retired for the evening. Yet, everywhere she turned, there was another stranger eager to welcome her.

“This place is bizarre,” she said. “I don’t think I like it.”

“They’ve been asleep for four eons!” Etienne reminded, twirling in the glow cast from a flickering lamp. “If I’d been asleep that long, I’d never want to sleep again!”

“You already never want to sleep.”

They were certainly an odd couple, in more than just personality, and perhaps that was why their new clanmates couldn’t seem to leave them well enough alone.

Etienne was short, as expected of a Fae, but the clothes he wore stood out in a Light clan. Dark flowers hung from his wings and hair, and still more from his wrists and the very tip of his tail. He carried with him the scents of the Tangled Wood, stronger on him than any of the Shadowlings living in the capital. In contrast, Eileen was far too tall for a Fae, and dressed even more outlandishly, in glitter, ruffles, and crow’s feathers. Her scent was that of a strange perfume, which seemed to lull those who drew near into a pleasant stupor.

All right, maybe it was just her turning heads—and not in the good way.

“We’re nearly to the inn,” she said. “Let’s pick up the pace and—”

Eileen did not stop when she noticed the two drakes watching her from across the way. They appeared to be caught up in one another, lovers she assumed, but she was certain that she had felt their eyes on her. The big one looked and smelled like a merc, all steel and blood. If he hadn’t clearly been spoken for, she might have allowed her heart the smallest flutter. The shorter one was just as handsome, but in an entirely different way. He was Shadow-born, dressed in fine robes that hugged his lithe figure attractively, and his smile—oh, it was positively radiant.

She had to keep Etienne away from them.

“Actually,” she drawled, holding the “A” for several seconds to ensure Etienne’s undivided attention, “you go on ahead, get us checked in. I saw a card shop a few blocks back, and mine could do with an upgrade.” For emphasis, she retrieved her deck from her pocket. It was well-loved and well-worn, the corners bent and the edges ragged. “I can’t tell fortunes with these old things. Any shop in Feldspar should be legitimate too, so I should get them while I can—you know, before you decide you’re homesick and want to join the Darkroot Circus.”

“I already said we could go to Darkroot!” Etienne protested. “You’re the one who said there would be less competition here!”

“Did I?” Eileen hummed. “Hmm, doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Oh, you’re awful!” Etienne snatched the coin purse from around Eileen’s waist and stormed off toward the inn. However, before he had gone too far, he turned, shyly, to face her again. “I’ll go straight to the inn and wait for you there, so don’t take too long! You know I’m pants with directions; if you get lost, I’ll be no help!”

“I’ll only be a moment,” Eileen promised.

They parted ways, and with another glance at the two drakes, Eileen ducked into the nearest alleyway. She caught the faint sound of metal on metal, but not the hurried footsteps she had expected. Had she been wrong? Was she being paranoid again? Etienne would have told her she was being paranoid again. Ugh, she was being paranoid again. Those drakes probably didn’t even know she existed.

Come on now, she scolded herself, this is meant to be a fresh start. You can’t keep jumping at shadows.

“Good evening.”

Eileen let out a yelp and stumbled back. It was impossible. There was no way, in Sornieth or the God Realms, that the Shadow-born could be standing before her now, his mysterious smile wide with shameless amusement. She would have heard him coming; hell, with her particular skill set, she would have sensed him before anything else. On second glance, his aura was immense. It clawed at her with purple fingers, plucked at her essence as if it were drinking her in. Never, in all her years, had she met a more repulsive drake.

Strangely, rather than running away with her cowardly tail between her legs, she found her hand drifting to the dagger at her hip. The Shadow-born saw her reach for it, but seemed entirely unperturbed.

That could only mean—

Damn, too late. There was a wickedly curved blade at her throat, a broad chest at her back (which, truthfully, she didn’t mind near as much), and she smelled steel and blood again. The merc’s free hand gripped her upper arm tight enough to make the rest of it tingle.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were ye,” he said.

“Wh-what do you want?” Eileen asked, cursing the fear in her own voice. “I don’t have anything of value on me, unless you’re looking to sell me off. I wouldn’t be worth the hassle, so look elsewhere, preferably outside of Feldspar territory. The founder here’s a real hardass.”

The merc snorted with laughter. “She’s got Dreamweaver pegged.”

“Yes,” the Shadow-born purred, “‘she’ certainly does.”

Sweat beaded heavy on Eileen’s brow as the Shadow-born stepped closer. She thought about trying for her blade again, but the merc’s was cutting into her a little too deeply, teetering on the threshold of drawing blood. Gods, but that aura—she couldn’t stand it. She could feel it inside of her, gnawing at her, pressing against her skull until she was sure it would burst.

“S-stop,” she pleaded.

“Why did you lie?” the Shadow-born asked, casually, as if discussing the weather.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re—”

The pressure increased, and she swallowed a scream.

“Why—did—you—lie?” the Shadow-born repeated.

“About what?!”

“About your identity.”

“I am what I say I am, you little freak!”

The Shadow-born cocked his head, looking for all the world like she had just spoken to him in tongues. She felt her skin split beneath the merc’s blade. His grip on her arm was almost as unbearable as his mate’s probing aura; she could no longer feel her left hand.

“Speak to ‘im like that again, lass,” he hissed, “and I’ll kill ye.”

“It’s all right, Argus,” the Shadow-born said. His eyes never left Eileen’s—nor would he allow hers to avoid his. Their pale purple hue held her transfixed. “You misunderstand. We have many dams who were born drakes, and many drakes who were born dams, and many rooks as well.” He leaned in closer, so terribly close that Eileen could smell the mint on his breath. “You are not like them. When you gave your name, I knew at once that it was not the one you hold in your heart; when your mate called you ‘she’ and ‘her’—”

“M-m-mate?!” Eileen spluttered.

“—I knew that it was not by these words, by ‘dam’, that you wished to be known. I see all deception, all falsehood, all lies, and can speak nothing but truth as recompense. You are not who you say you are. So—” The scream that had been building in her chest wriggled out between clenched teeth, her free hand clutching desperately at her head— “what is your name?”

“Elias!”

“What is your purpose here?”

“A fresh start! We only want a fresh start, please, you must believe me!”

“Why did you lie?”

Eileen—no, Elias bit down hard on her—no, his tongue. He had said too much already, but the pressure kept building, and building, and building, and he knew, somehow he knew, that if he lied to the Shadow-born again, it would be the last lie he ever told.

So, with a gut-wrenching sob, he replied, “I’m in trouble!”

The pressure relented, and all at once, Elias was free. He dropped like a stone—or he would have, had the Shadow-born not caught him. The next thing he knew, he was slumped in the Shadow-born’s arms, with his head resting oh-so sweetly against his tormentor’s shoulder. There were fingers in his hair, carding through it like his mother’s once had, and a gentle whisper in his ear that made the pain rattling around in his skull feel distant.

“I’m sorry,” the Shadow-born murmured softly. “I don’t like having to use my Sight in such a way, but I must protect my clan.”

“I get it,” Elias croaked, “but I’m still gonna knock your teeth down your throat.”

“Argus, don’t.” The mercenary reluctantly sheathed his blade. “I am Mergo,” the Shadow-born introduced. “You met me before, during your interview, but you were so nervous that I doubt you remember me. The temperamental Guardian is my mate, Argus. He means well, but just as our clan is my top priority, I am his. I can assure you, neither he nor I shall ever harm you again.”

Argus crossed his thick arms over his brawny chest, and Elias once again had to remind himself that he was not a homewrecker. “I’m not yer top priority?”

“Now is not the time for flirting,” Mergo replied, “but if it will put your heart at ease, both you and our clan are my top priorities.”

“What you did—” Elias winced as another bolt of pain made the space behind his eyes throb— “it was incredible; awful, the worst experience of my life, but incredible. It’s too bad I’m gonna get a splitting headache every time I see you, until the day I die. I could probably learn a few things from a Seer of your caliber.”

“You’re a Seer as well?” Mergo asked.

“Sure,” Elias replied, “nothing like you, though. I can read simple fortunes, usually through cards, sometimes through crystals and bones. Anyway—” With his senses beginning to return to him, Elias clumsily extricated himself from Mergo’s grasp, though under better circumstances, he might have lingered a few moments longer— “if the two of you are done threatening me, I need to get back to Etienne.”

“One more question,” Mergo said, earning a quiet groan from Elias. “Just what sort of trouble are you in?”

“Hope it’s the fun sort,” Argus joked.

Elias wished he could have laughed, but even if he’d wanted to, his voice had suddenly stuck at the very back of his throat. His mouth went dry, and his forehead, already drenched, grew damp again. He looked to Mergo, expecting him to renew his assault. Instead, Elias’ apprehension was met with a gentle smile, one that immediately eased the tension flaring in his shoulders.

“You will be safe here,” Mergo assured, “and should your demons ever find you, you will not fight them alone. That is what it means to belong to a clan.”

“For a guy who nearly popped my head like a grape,” Elias said, “you sure are nice.”

“What about me?” Argus asked.

Elias risked a smirk. “Jury’s still out.”

Thankfully, Argus was exactly the kind of drake Elias had thought he was. Letting out a hardy, “Ha!” Argus slapped him hard on the back, sending him pitching forward into Mergo’s expectant arms. They were almost as odd a pair as he and Etienne, he thought—an enigmatic seer and a boisterous mercenary. If he could ever manage to stop going cross-eyed whenever he looked at Mergo, they might even get to be friends someday. Etienne would certainly like them.

Etienne.

“He doesn’t know,” Elias mumbled. “Etienne, I mean. I suppose I’ll tell him eventually, if he really does decide we ought to put down roots here, but anywhere else—too risky. I don’t suppose you boys could keep this under your hats.”

“Of course,” Mergo said with a dip of his head. “It’s plain to me that you’re no threat to Feldspar. Therefore, your business is your own.”

“So it’s not the fun sort,” Argus added, and then administered another bone-shattering smack to Elias’ back. “Well, if ye ever feel like sharin’ yer feelin’s ‘n all, Mergo’s the drake fer the job. Just do it when I’m not ‘round the house. Ain’t the touchy-feely type, if ye catch my meanin’.”

“Neither am I,” Elias confessed, “but thanks for the offer.”

“Will you be all right?” Mergo asked. “We can walk you to the inn, if you’d like. I haven’t forgotten how it feels to have your mind poked and prodded—ah, but that’s a story for another time.”

Elias privately thought that, no, that was most definitely a story for right this very instant, but the pounding of his head said otherwise. There would be plenty of time for him to unravel all of the many mysteries he was certain to stumble upon in Feldspar. Right now, what he needed most was a stiff drink, a quiet place to rest his weary bones, and Etienne safe at his side.

“I’ll manage,” he replied.

“No hard feelin’s, eh?” Argus said.

“No hard feelings,” Elias agreed, and was surprised to find he meant it. He liked to think he’d developed a good sense for dragons, and although Mergo and Argus had certainly done him dirty that night, it was hard not to forgive them.

After all, he would’ve done far worse if it meant protecting Etienne.

With several more hurried apologies, Mergo bid him good night and departed almost as quickly and quietly as he’d arrived, Argus trailing lazily behind him. Elias watched them leave before turning back toward the inn. He’d been right in his assumption that Feldspar was a strange place, filled with even stranger dragons—and he had just crossed paths with one of its elite. This, he knew, was not a land of secrets. Here, dragons shared their hardships with one another, and to lie was considered a heinous betrayal, enough so that the founder had sent one of their dogs after him. Mergo had told him that his business was his own, so long as it was of no consequence to his clanmates, and he believed it.

Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he ought to tell someone. Dreamweaver was a force to be reckoned with on their own, but with the might of their council behind them, they might just be unstoppable. If anyone could protect him from his past, it was them.

Would they judge him? Would they think him weak? Naive?

Would they tell Etienne?

Elias made his decision as the inn came into view. It was lit up like the Beacon, and for a moment, he felt as though he were a ship in a dark sea and it, a lighthouse on a distant shore. A gulf stretched between them, so vast as to swallow the world. On the far side was a new start in a new land with the only dragon he had ever cared to call family; on the near, the nightmare he’d been born into, luring him into that old comfortable misery he had become so accustomed to. It would have been easy to slip back into who he’d once been.

Not this time.

[drxwsyni]

Healing (pt.1/3)

Yandere Chisaki Kai/Overhaul x quirkless!f!Reader

Part 2︱Part 3

a/n: please do not read this piece if themes of poor mental health are upsetting to you. i am in no way attempting to romanticize these issues, having dealt with them in the past and knowing all too well how serious it is. i have never endorsed the harmful actions of people in my work and never will. please take care of yourselves and read at your own discretion. also this is a repost because it disappeared from the tags for some reason?

warnings: mental health problems, injury

4.2k words

_____

This is for your own good, he said.

The world is a disease ridden place, and remaining in it has left you broken.

You weren’t broken, you were fine. Sure, handling the pressures of simply existing as a result of being born without a quirk were tasking. People had not exactly been kind to you growing up, and that may have affected your health significantly. But you were handling it just fine.

While you couldn’t disagree with the fact that people did seem to enjoy using you, whatever had developed as a result of him discovering this reality wasn’t better in the slightest.

He said you needed time to heal, both physically and mentally. You could trust him, he was the only person who saw how faultless your existence was.

At some point you felt like you deserved to be mistreated by everyone around you, given how common of an occurrence it was. So when the yakuza leader came to you himself, going on about how unfairly you’d been handled all your life, it was hard not to trust him.

Now, you realize just how big of a mistake doing so was.

To be fair, he did live up to his promises. Kai said he wanted to help you heal, and what better way to do that than to move in with him. He had all the necessary equipment, and more than enough money to provide for you during your rehabilitation process.

However, he failed to mention the lengths he was willing to go to ensure your ‘good health’. Thinking you would stay with him until you got better, and then go back to living on your own once any pre existing issues had been taken care of slowly started to become an unattainable dream.

Upon arrival at the yakuza’s base, Kai instructed that it’d be in your best interest to not leave the premises. There was plenty of courtyard space for fresh air, and anything you needed would be picked up for you. Your room had been spacious enough, luxurious almost. Aside from the underground network of facilities, you were permitted to have free range of the base. The only condition was that you kept an escort with you at all times. Generally, these terms didn’t seem too bad.

It wasn’t until you sat down in his office to go through the rest of your new living plan that you realized just how committed he was to seeing your health improve.

Everything was planned to a T. When you’d wake up, take medication, bathe, eat, go to bed. He had taken into account any intolerances or allergies and developed a comprehensive meal program that catered to them. The most important element was the checkups scheduled twice a week to monitor your physical health.

While you didn’t enjoy the idea of being examined so regularly, you couldn’t argue that you’d neglected many problems over your lifetime. Sure, blood tests and vaccine administered supplements weren’t fun. But for the sake of rehabilitation you supposed that it was just another necessary evil.

What was concerning was his policy on electronic devices, specifically for recreational use. According to him, having a phone would only hinder the process, and therefore it wasn’t something you needed.

“Should you require anything you need only to ask either myself or a subordinate. Seeming as you should always have an escort there will be no issue with the matter of not being able to contact anyone.”

Kai truly had everything covered, and with how reassuring he was it became hard to see any flaws in the plan.

And so you took up residence in the leader’s base, grateful for the opportunity to live without being weighed down by society's corrupt expectations.

_____

The first few weeks went fairly smoothly, using the time to learn the layout of the establishment. Not that you could ever get lost, with one of his subordinates trailing you in case you required assistance. You quite enjoyed the company of Chisaki’s underlings, along with that of the man himself.

Every day you’d spend time in the courtyard, or go for a walk along the path against the inside edges of the base. Oftentimes Kurono would accompany you, and the two of you would make small talk over menial subjects. Later on you’d return to Kai’s office where you’d sit on the sofa positioned to the side of the room, reading a novel he’d selected while he worked at his desk.

Generally, your experience went fairly smoothly. The distance you’d put between yourself and the reality outside those tall concrete walls had done a lot of good. However, not everything can be solved with simply removing yourself entirely from a bad situation.

Although your living quarters were comfortable and welcoming, there was something unfamiliar about it that was off putting. To combat this, you decided a quick trip home to pick up a few belongings couldn’t hurt.

It’d only taken you roughly twenty-five minutes to travel back on foot to your small, cheap little single floor house on the edge of town. Another ten to gather some items, and then you walked back to the base. However, upon returning you’d come to understand how badly you’d messed up.

It was early in the morning before you’d left, and there were no examinations scheduled either. Not wanting to bother anyone with your needs, you had left the base alone without notifying Chisaki.

That was your first mistake.

He was waiting for you at the front entrance, arms crossed with an aggravated look on his face, although it was hard to read given the mask hiding a good half of his facial features. But if that didn’t give away his anger, then the death grip he placed on your forearm as he dragged you to your designated bedroom did.

He practically threw you inside the room, slamming the doors behind him. He only took a second to compose himself before speaking. “I thought I made it very clear that you were not to leave the premises, let alone by yourself.”

You knew Chisaki was quite the stern man, seeing first hand once or twice with how he treated his subordinates. But this was new, he’d never gotten mad at you, let alone get physically aggressive.

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal, I was just grabbing some things to make my room a little more comfortable.”

“Did I not tell you that whatever you needed would be picked up for you?”

His demeanour suggested that the question was not rhetorical. “You did, I know. I just didn’t want to bother Kurono or anyone else to go with me so early.”

Something about your open concern for others seemed to pacify his rage, letting out a sigh before moving to sit on the short couch next to him. Leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, Kai responded. “Staying inside the base is a crucial part to your healing, I can’t let you leave knowing the danger you’d be putting yourself in without protection. You should refrain from doing something so reckless moving forward.”

You moved from your standing position to sit down next to him, of course keeping a respectable distance knowing his abhorrence to bacteria, and generally people as well. “I’m sorry for making you worry, I was just a bit homesick is all.”

The yakuza turned his head to look at you, brows furrowed in a somewhat inquisitive manner. His amber eyes pierced through yours, seemingly searching for answers to questions that couldn’t be asked. “I hope you’re aware of how important someone like yourself is to my cause. Those without quirks are growing increasingly rare, and it’s causing more issues than the world can keep up with.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “I believe it goes without saying that I’d be deeply upset if anything were to happen to you. Normally I couldn’t be bothered with such a thing… but you’re the exception.”

Chisaki stood up and walked toward the bedroom door before facing you again. “Take a bath and then return to my office with your book. Kurono will be waiting outside your door to escort you.”

You watched him leave the room, waiting for the door to completely shut before letting out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding all this time.

Whatever that was, you never wanted to encounter it again. Maybe, you thought, I’d be better off getting out of here sooner rather than later.

_____

After the first incident occurred you presumed things would return to normal, but of course that would be too convenient. It seemed that there was now a slight increase in security around the base. The development was immediate, making it hard to miss. Any exits leading outside―those literally outside, say to the courtyard―and gates to exit the compound were guarded by one of Chisaki’s underlings.

On top of that, he had one of his men stationed outside your bedroom 24/7, whether you needed an escort or not. He never bothered to notify you of this change in particular. It only came to your attention after hearing the verbal exchange of two men outside your door, doing what you assumed was rotating shifts.

It was unnerving, to say the least. The incident had been minor as far as you perceived it, but the unspoken changes around you demonstrated otherwise.

Aside from that, you thankfully regarded the steady improvement to your health. Your energy had returned significantly, likely thanks to the mandatory eight hours of sleep. The daily walks had eliminated the general weakness and lack of stamina you experienced. Even your face took on a warm glow, eye-bags almost non existent and blemishes quickly fading.

It would seem that your departure from this temporary rehabilitation would come sooner than you expected.

Yet the more your condition improved, the stricter Kai became with your routine. Not only that, but he also seemed to be growing more comfortable having you near him.

Now, with any normal person this familiarness would only be expected. But you knew better, and a voice deep in the back of your mind was telling you that this new predicament wouldn’t end well.

_____

The next incident seemed to be the thing that set him off, solidifying your future.

It had been roughly a month and a half since you accepted being cared for at the yakuza’s compound. By now the problems which put you in this situation were almost entirely taken care of, but that didn’t stop Kai from enforcing his rules more than ever.

Frankly, the repetitive, unwavering routine you’d been following was starting to create its own problems within your health―you were going a bit stir crazy.

After the last warning, you’d be lying if you said the main thing keeping you from leaving was fear for how Chisaki would react. Now however, it’d been too long since you experienced the real world, and even if it was only for an hour, you desperately needed to go outside the walls of the compound.

You took the issue to Kai during the time you spent reading in his office. He was going to have to let you do this, staying cooped up any longer wouldn’t be good for you and even he couldn’t ignore that reality.

After what felt like an endless back and forth discussion, seemingly getting nowhere on either side, you started to believe that he really didn’t think the situation was an actual problem.

But you knew he had a soft spot for you, and eventually the man did cave to your request.

Accompanied by one of his more trusted subordinates, you were allowed to leave the base for two hours. You took this much appreciated freedom to do some window shopping here and there, at one point stopping to buy latte―of course not before fighting with your escort over how Kai would disapprove of you doing so, the caffeine apparently being bad for you.

You were nearing the end of your time limit, and still you remained unsatisfied with what felt like an all too brief reintroduction to society.

Pushing your luck, you headed to the center of the downtown area, hoping the bustling life and bright colours would be enough to satiate your need for external stimulation.

Before you had left the compound that day, Kai had stopped you for a moment at the front entrance. The statement was quick―he advised you to stay out of any heavy populated areas. According to him it posed too high of a risk to your safety, and you should heed his words if you knew what was good for you.

However, now that you were out and getting a taste of everything you didn’t even realize you were missing, those warnings were the last thing to concern you. Oh, how foolish you were to even believe there was nothing wrong with going against him for a second.

You heard the destruction before you felt it. The cause of it was unidentifiable, as before you could steal a glance from the source of exploding brick and concrete next to you, an unseen force sent you flying across the pavement and out onto the road. Thankfully traffic immediately came to a halt once onlookers realized the situation, effectively preventing you from being run over. But that did little to console you as painfully, you comprehended your now significantly injured state.

Giving your body a once over, it was clear that the force that threw you away from the building was from the blast of air pressure likely due to an explosion. The damages weren’t too severe, but you were still now sporting a throbbing headache, and what appeared to be a sprained ankle. Aside from that, only developing bruises remained as evidence of the violent event as far as you could tell in your shock induced state.

Understanding you had to get yourself away from the violent, still ongoing conflict, you feebly attempted to stand up. It was a good effort, and if it weren’t for the head injury that was proving to be much more serious, you most likely would’ve been able to get away.

But luck was never on your side to begin with, and only a few seconds went by before black spots appeared in front of your vision. A moment later and you were out cold.

_____

A hospital room was what you expected, what anyone would expect after being nearly blown to pieces.

Pulling yourself out of unconsciousness to assess exactly where you were was a trying task, but the fear growing in the pit of your stomach served as more than enough motivation.

You remembered being downtown. An explosion. Pain. Then darkness. Taking in your surroundings, you identified the room to be that which you sat through examination after examination in the yakuza’s base.

But Kai was nowhere to be seen, and that only made the feeling of distress worse.

You had no idea how you got there, figuring the likely outcome would be you in the care of an actual doctor. Except that wasn’t the case, and instead you were laying on a bed, wearing clothing that you did not have on before blacking out.

It appeared to be a fairly loose but comfortable sleeveless knee length dress, with a long sleeve sweater overtop of it, both shaded with a pale light blue. In the midst of examining your new outfit, your eyes laid upon a heart monitoring device lightly clipped to your index finger.

Amidst the sudden realization of your current predicament, you failed to notice the steady increase in your heartbeat. But Kai hadn’t.

At that moment one of the two doors of the room, the other attached to a bathroom, swiftly opened. Chisaki stood in the doorway for a moment, seemingly evaluating your now awakened form for a moment before entering, closing the door behind him.

You questioned him before he even had the chance to come near you. “What the hell am I doing here? Why aren’t I in a hospital?” He approached you as you spoke, taking a seat on a wheeled stool next to your bed.

Unfortunately you couldn’t control the shaking in your voice, and it served as a clear indication to the man at just how uneasy you’d grown with the situation.

“My subordinate alerted me of the attack after he found you unconscious. You were brought back here amidst the fighting so I could tend to your injuries, which fortunately are not life threatening.” He spoke in a calm and consistent tone, pausing momentarily before continuing. “There was no need to bring you to a hospital when I’m more than capable of taking care of you.”

Not life threatening? You looked over your body, assessing the damage for yourself. It appeared that you had injured your ankle, as it was now wrapped in some form of brace. Along with that were bandages woven around your knees, and more that you could feel constricting your upper arms where you landed on. Lastly was the dull pain in the back of your head, bringing you back to the moments before blacking out when you experienced a similar sensation.

“I think I should still go see a professional, no offense of course. It’s just I’d feel more comfortable with an expert opinion on the whole thing.” You truly didn’t want to set him off, not after what happened the last time you went against his advice. However, this was not something you could just take lying down, despite the fact that you were literally lying down in bed at the moment.

“I’m going to have to insist that you remain here, it’s the best option for your recovery which may I remind you has not been completed as of yet, and will only be delayed due to this. Not to mention that in your state excessive movement to bring you to a hospital would not only be quite difficult to manage but further damaging to your body as well.”

If it weren’t for the unsettling, stone cold stare he was giving you as he spoke, you would’ve likely retorted with a defense. Yet under that gaze you felt it was impossible to remain strong willed. You’d let him have his way for now, there being only so much time remaining in which his care was necessary.

With that you agreed to his concerns, and perhaps if he wasn’t wearing that obnoxiously large mask you would’ve seen the smirk of satisfaction appear across his face.

_____

Later that day Kai returned with your dinner, a task he normally left for his subordinates to complete. He set down the tray atop the sliding overbed table, a clipboard in his other hand. Sitting down on the rolling stool next to your bed, he began talking, you listening in silence as you ate.

“I hope you don’t mind but I took a blood sample while you were asleep in case your injuries were more severe than outwardly observable.” He flipped through a few pages on the clipboard before continuing. “It would seem that the supplements are steadily improving your overall condition. It’ll still take some time for certain levels to reach a normal amount for someone of your physique, but this is still good news nonetheless.”

You hummed in response, not wanting to be rude by talking with your mouth full. Chisaki moved to place the clipboard on the counter to your left before facing you again.

“I’m sure by now you’ve taken note of the change in your attire from that prior to being injured.”

You stopped chewing, looking worriedly in his direction. You hadn’t forgotten about this reality, it was more like you chose to ignore it for the time being, hoping nothing would come of it between the two of you.

“You should know that I had one of my female underlings do this for me, the fact of the matter being your clothing was partially destroyed from the explosion and was therefore prohibiting necessary medical attention.”

The pulsing of your heartbeat quickened, having an idea of where this conversation was headed, much to your apprehension. You stared down at the meal in front of you to avoid eye contact at all costs.

“I was able to properly tend to your wounds, but I’m sure you understand when I say that I couldn’t help but notice certain… remnants. Those of past trauma, along with others I didn’t directly observe, those that my subordinate notified me of.”

It was obvious that to access the bruises and cuts sustained from being thrown across the pavement, Chisaki would inevitably see parts of your body that you were all too familiar with just a few years ago.

Things had gotten better since then, they really had. You would never even think about using those same coping methods anymore. But that didn’t change the fact that those memories weren’t something that could just fade overnight, nor would the physical damage they left behind.

It was the last thing you wanted to discuss with Kai right now. He already knew, albeit vaguely, that you used to struggle with your mental health. Not that you weren’t still struggling, it was just now you had healthier ways of handling it. The only thing you could do now was deter him from pressing you further on the matter.

“Listen Kai, I know what you’re referring to, and I understand why you’d be concerned. It’s just… you don’t need to bother with it. I’m better now, at least in that regard. I get that you want to help me, and you have, but this isn’t something you need to worry about. I’ve already taken care of it, I promise.”

Glancing up at him after finishing, you saw more emotion than you’d ever thought someone like himself would be capable of. Although to most it would be insignificant, his intense stare coupled with the furrowed eyebrows, looking as if he truly wanted to comfort you in that moment was reassuring.

He exhaled loudly before responding. “That’s fine, (y/n).” You watched as he removed those white gloves that he seemed to wear like a second skin, placing them on the counter. “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry I wasn’t able to help you during that time. Someone like you should have never been subjected to such treatment, and if I had known you back then I would’ve made sure such an occurrence never took place to begin with.”

Now this was… jarringly out of character.

If there was ever a red flag that you missed before, the ensuing events would surely be enough to make it blatantly obvious what exactly was going on.

Wide-eyed and dinner long forgotten, you followed the movement of his hands as they went to gently hold that of your left.

The yakuza waited for what felt like an eternity before carrying on, doing what you could only assume was anticipating the disgust of coming into contact in such a way with you, absent of his constant protective articles.

But the aversion never came.

“All I can do now is ensure you’re never dealt the same treatment again.”

Another moment of silence, stillness.

He gave your hand a small squeeze before releasing his hold, standing up and retrieving his gloves. You were too dumbfounded by the events that just unfolded to respond, so you continued to sit in silence while Kai gathered his belongings.

“Finish your dinner, Kurono will come later and turn off the heart monitor for you to get ready for bed.” He finished pulling on the gloves, picking up the clipboard once he was done and headed towards the only exit of the room.

“You’ll be remaining in this room while your injuries heal. I’ll keep one of my men posted outside if you need anything.” Kai placed a hand on the doorknob, pausing before looking back in your direction.

“Also, you should know that an alarm will go off if you remove the heart monitoring clip on your finger. There’s a button on the side of the bed you can press if you need assistance turning the machine off, say if you need to get up. Otherwise please leave it as it is.”

At that moment he left the examination room, the door closing with a heavy metallic thud that reverberated off the walls.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach was subtle, almost overshadowed by the persisting hunger from abandoning your dinner. But you knew it well to be fear.

A fear that you only suspected would grow the longer you remained in the confines of Chisaki’s compound, the confines of his so-called ‘care.’

(End of Part 1)

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Pictures in the Sky.”

You guys *want fluff*

Me *ripping open an industrial sized bag of build-a-bear-stuffing whispering* they wanted fluff 

Lol I hope this is what you demons were looking for. was trying to work on creating an emotional environment with words instead of leaning on action to make things interesting. 

Tried to insert some of my own experiences to make it more authentic. 

Hope you guys enjoy :) 

Sunny glanced out the window. The night was dark, as it tended to be on earth, though a patch of warm honey light spilled from the kitchen window and onto the back lawn lighting the grass below. Squinting into the darkness, she thought she could see a shape illuminated by the light blue blanket which he had draped around himself.

She turned her head watching as blue light spilled in form the living room, where Jim was watching a late night game. 

Martha was sitting at the kitchen table next to a pile of paint cans with a book open before her on the table.

Sunny approached the back sliding screen door, feeling a waft of cool night air brush over her skin. It smelled damp, and earthy. Tilting her head she could the distant chatter of crickets. She reached out sliding the screen door open with a soft swish before stepping outside onto the back porch.

She closed the door softly behind her and walked out across the deck tilting her head back to look up at the sky. The stars had been more prominent on her home planet. Where earth suffered from the grip of light pollution and a rather distant view of the universe, her planet had bordered a massive star nursery which produced many clusters and a great amount of gaseous emissions.

Still, with the moon rising high above them, and the distant arm of the milky way cutting across the sky she had to admit the remoteness was quite beautiful. No wonder humanity had always been obsessed with the night, so dark and mysterious.

Her feet met cold grass, and at first she couldn’t tell if it was wet or just cool.

More crickets started up,and where the backyard met the treeline, she thought she could hear the distant croaking of frogs.

The thought of those strange little creatures made her happy. She didn’t know why.

As the honey glow of the kitchen faded into the distant, the mound on the grass grew into sharper focus.

Adam lay on his back, one a blanket spread on the grass one hand resting behind his head, the other resting on his stomach. The night was pleasant enough that he didn’t even bother to wear long sleeves.

His pale skin stood out in the darkness.

She saw him turn his head as he heard her coming, and a flash of teeth glittered white in the dark.

She paused --- standing over him -- and looked up at the sky,”Homesick?” She wondered 

He laughed, “Maybe a little.” He patted the blanket next to him, and she obliged taking a set and then flopping onto her back against the blanket.

Overhead a streak of white light cut through the darkness before vanishing.

“Beautiful, isn’t it.”

The moon winked at them from the darkness.

“Yes .” Sunny whispered 

He reached up a hand pointing out towards the darkness, “You see that cluster of stars there, just a few degrees left….. Yeah. That’s where your planet is.”

Sunny stared on in fascination.

Adam rested his hand back behind his head, “Crazy to think we saw parts of the same night sky.”

She had never thought about it that way before, and it made her shiver a little.

“Of course the light form there is likely a couple thousand years old, so even if we had been looking at each other, its actually more like seeing into the past.”

She turned her head to look down at him crickets chirping softly in the background.

A light wind rustled through the trees, bringing with it a distant roll of white noise. The grass rustled next to them creating a rippling wave back and up towards the house.”

“You seem to know a lot about astronomy for a soldier she said wryly, though honestly she was really just baiting him into talking. The voice of a human was generally very nice, melodic  almost with a sort of cadence to it.

He chuckled softly, before pausing, “you know all this.” He reached a hand up towards the sky, “Is the reason I became so fascinated with aliens, and astronomy, and becoming an astronaut.” She turned to  look at him, curious, and he continued on.

“I think it might be the earliest memory I have. Mom says it was only a  few years after the first colonies were settled on mars. We were just beginning to build up our station on the moon, and there was this meteor shower.. I think it was the Perseid Meteor shower, which happens every year or so. Now my memory could totally be wrong about everything but…. I remember huge balls of fire that made crackling noises as they fell from the sky…. Like i said, I am pretty sure my kid mind made it out to be a bigger deal that it actually was, but….” he trailed off to look at the sky, “Every time I think about it I get that same feeling, a sort of sense of awe….”

He sighed, and as if to punctuate his sentence a bright streak of light flew across their vision.

“After that it was all over for me. I wanted to watch all the space movies, I wanted to go to all the museums, and then when I heard about UFOs, well the obsession just got worse.”

Sunny turned her head to look at him, “What is a UFO.”

He laughed face split by a massive grin, “The irony is glorious. I am explaining what a UFO is to an alien. A UFO is an unidentified flying object. And when I was a kid I got caught into one of those conspiracy theories that said the government was lying to us about the existence of aliens, and that  they had visited earth in flying saucers and abducted people and what not.”

Sunny snorted, “The GA would never have bothered entering your planet’s atmosphere.”

“Well I know that now, but when I was a kid, I was convinced….” He shifted a bit close enough that she could feel the heat shedding from his skin pointing upwards, “See that one, its called the big dipper or ursa major. If you follow the tip you can find tPolaris. It’s been used by humans to navigate for thousands of years. We can’t see polar lines like you, so we needed some way to find north.”

He dropped his hand back down to his chest, “Of course, as I got older I sort of dropped the UFO thing in favor of knowing that there were aliens out there. I had read the studies listened to all the talks, and there seemed to be no way that we were the only ones. I grew up trying to convince people that there were other worlds out there with other life….. He sighed, no one ever believed me.”

“You crazy person.” She muttered resting one set of arms behind her head enjoying the irony.

“Ha, yeah. Sad part is, I may never have gone to space. You know my parents aren't all that wealthy, and traveling off earth is generally pretty expensive. When i was a kid I begged to visit Mars, or the moon. IT was devastating when My parents said no, of course now I understand that we were a couple  million short.”

Sunny tried not to think about that outcome. A dimension in which Adam never made it to space would probably have been a very sad one.

“I went  through different phases too. At first I wanted to be an astronaut, and then I wanted to be an astronomer, and then a physicist, and then rocket science or engineering like my brother.”

Sunny shot him a look.

He laughed, “I know, I know. I’m not half as smart as David. I couldn’t math my way out of a paper bag. I love science… I was just never very good at it .” For a moment his voice took on a rather melancholy quality, but sunny kept him quiet, “A couple years before all that, there was a scientist, the Einstein of our time, and he created this mathematical theory that  determined the folding potential of space. With this theory we could travel the universe without having to worry about the issues of light speed. So they started construction on the first interstellar ship. Of  course I kept a close watch on it’s construction, but then my brother went and told me about the UNSC’s pilot academy, and you better believe I was on that in under five minutes.”

The thought made her smile. She could just imagine his excitement.

There was quiet for a moment, and -- in the background --- sunny thought she could hear the soft trickle of water, perhaps a stream or a creak, or an artificial fountain off in the distance.

She ran her fingers over the grass.

Such a strange plant. 

“Have you ever….. Have you ever been homesick for a place you’ve never been?”

Sunny glanced over to find him looking at her. She shook her head, “I can’t say I have.”

He sighed and turned back to the sky, “Well, I have. During the academy, and the years before that, I would look up, and…. Well I just wanted to go so bad. I can’t describe the feeling. It’s like you're a piece of something broken and all you want to do is return to where you were meant to be. I was missing from space and space was missing from me, and I wanted it so bad that it was like a physical sensation, like anxiety or anger except it…. Well it makes you want to cry or to scream, and it was so frustrating because it just never went away.” 

She looked up trying to imagine the feeling. It was hard to think that Adam could have wanted anything so bad. She had always been to busy with family drama to have wanted anything more. Her desires were so base as acceptance that she could barely imagine such a strange an abstracted feeling….. The feeling of being broken with no explanation.

“I  trained for years to get to space, and Sunny, my first inter-space flight, that moment when you break from atmosphere, and the earth curves back behind you, and the stars unfold before you…. It was.” he shivered, “It was the most exhilarating moment of my life, like coming back home but multiplied by a thousand.” 

She heard him sigh, watched his chest rise and fall from the corner of her eyes, “I know it sounds stupid. Humans honestly weren’t meant to fly, or to be in space. We are terrestrial creatures after all, but….” He shook his head, “Something just felt right, and it still does.”

“And then you found aliens?”

The longing melancholy faded from his voice replaced with a smile, “Sunny, I am probably the luckiest son of a bitch in the entire universe. I flew a jet to the moon, I was on the bridge during the launch of the first interstellar ship, I was on the bridge during the first warp, I was the pilot who flew our first mission to a planet outside the solar system, and I was the first man to ever see extraterrestrial life.”

He paused, “Of course…. After the war….”

He trailed off biting back pain. Sunny felt her stomach twist. She knew what had happened after the war, PTSD , the loss of his leg.

His voice had grown quiet, “It was the worst time of my life. I mean I have had some pretty bad moments, but nothing compares. It was like…. Being betrayed by someone you love. Looking up at the sky made me sick, the thought of flying repulsed me, alien life scared the shit out of me. I was growing to resent the one thing in the world -- or out of this world --- that I loved. I have never felt such despair…. Because life just wasn’t worth it.”

Her stomach continued to tie itself into knots, she felt a tingling rise up in her face and neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

He must have sensed the guilt in her voice turning his head to look at her. He reached out a comforting hand and rested it on her arm smiling, “Don’t worry, it was just a leg.” The smile he gave her was genuine, his words earnest, “Besides, it only took a dog to pull me back around. The relief was insane. I hadn’t looked up for almost a year, and then one day I couldn’t sleep, so I walked outside.” He nodded towards the porch, “I remember I was standing right there, crutches, the dog, and I remember fighting with myself whether I should look up or not, because I knew if I didn’t feel anything than…. Than I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I remember Waffles, She licked my hand and looked at me like she was encouraging me to do it, and when I did, and the feeling came again, I was so damn excited I actually ended up slipping on my crutches and falling off the porch.”

The two of them laughed at that image.

She shook his head still smiling, “You should have seen it, there I was lying in the grass in a heap, the dog was all concerned,and then my mom comes running out of the house freaking the hell out, my dad’s behind her and he’s got the gun, and they see me on the ground, and they are just so confused. And I’m looking up at the sky and they’re looking down at me, and I just start to laugh, and they are looking at me like I’m insane because I probably am. And then you know -- because I’m pathetic -- of course i start to cry like a baby, and then my mom does and then my dad does, and now I’m crying and laughing, and it was so stupid.” 

He shook his head. His hand was warm on her arm.

“Of course, mom wasn’t exactly laughing when I told them I wanted to go back to the UNSC but they agreed and with a little help we managed to get a nice prosthetic, and by that time they were looking for a captain for the harbinger. Once the GA heard that I was still around, they requested me personally.”

“Did you piss yourself with excitement.” She wondered 

He eyed her, “You jest, but I totally almost did. Captain of a mothereffing space ship, Sunny. That was like my dream after a dream, like the impossible dream that you have that you know isn’t going to come true. Of course there was a lot of push back from members of the UNSC because of how young I was, and how inexperienced , but in the end the GA insisted.”

“You lucky bastard.” She muttered 

“Yeah.” he muttered his voice going soft.

He shifted a bit closer resting his head on her arm like a pillow. She glanced down he raised an eyebrow in the half darkness, “What, might as well make you useful while I can.” She shook her head at him and he just grinned before blinking and reaching up to point at another set of stars, “Ursa minor….. And that one over there is Pegasus.” 

Sunny followed his finger, but couldn’t make out more than the greater star field. She did manage to see ursa minor after a few minutes, and then after that, she couldn’t see anything else.

They talked a little more, and laughed about dumb shit.

She liked this pastime.

They didn’t do this sort of thing on Anum 

Mostly because they were too busy killing each other to care.

But here the humans were pointing at the sky and finding pictures in the stars.

Kind of adorable. 

[bangtanblurbs]

blue side *special post*

song: blue side - full version, by j-hope

first experience: would we consider the release of blue side, the full version the first experience, or listening to the version from hope world? either way, with hope world, i know i was listening after returning back to DC from ATL following spring break of my first year in my phd program. i was feeling all kinds of heavy, and turning on hopeworld i felt both uplifted and seen at the same time. for an album to carry a track like blue side, along with piece of peace, and then bangers like hangsang and daydream was a lot for me to process but the album instantly became something i listened to all the time. that year was really hard for me - i’d moved away from home, i wasn’t fitting in, i was questioning my abilities, my intelligence, i was so insanely depressed. it was eating away at me, and hope world dropped, making me feel more peace than i’d felt since i had moved. i am still so thankful for that.

feelings: i have so many. obviously, that’s why i had to make a blog for these things. there’s no way i could talk this out with anyone in a normal conversation. also i’d forget everything in my head. hoseok is my comfort idol. i feel very close to him emotionally. maybe it’s because he left gwangju for the big city, he fought like hell and made his way. meanwhile i left a small town and fought like hell, and am trying to make my way. he’s my role model as much as he is my comfort. blue side though, there’s something about it that hits. the lyrics, the sound, it all is about a desire for what existed before - before complicating things with my dreams. leaving the comfort of the familiar, the easy, the known, and making my way in the unknown to chase what i think “home” is supposed to be. sure, things are easier on the *blue side* but without running away from it, would i really burn as bright as a blue flame? give off the warmth that the strongest flame (blue) does? it’s like a double meaning, blue is the innocence and simplicity of the known and the easy, perhaps youth, perhaps home... but also blue is the hottest flame, even if it comes just before a fire dies and burns out, it is still the most significant - the hottest, it’s worth the chase to have this high. 

like hoseok - i feel lonely - this song also deals with the loneliness of walking away from the known, the home. and i relate with it. but the color and the vibrancy of what’s knew, it’s not always so terrible. it’s funny, as i listen to blue side, i think of wildflowers by dolly parton. a song about how we all carry a nostalgia for whatever home is, whatever was simple and easy before we lost our innocence and moved on to adulthood... but the reality is, no matter how bad we want to go back - home doesn’t exist anymore in the way that we remember it. we’ve warped the idea of home and this earlier perfection in our heads. we’ve burned it. as we became strong blue flames, the past was also burnt up and changed. that’s how i feel when i visit home, it’s not what i romanticize when i’m away. and no matter what i always feel dejected, foreign, and alone. but even so, i’m burning bright. i’m *back to blue side* but not in the way of going back to a prior easiness and innocence, instead in the way of being bright and warm, offering others something new and improved. 

personal experience: since the full song just released and i’ve already played in hundreds of times, perhaps i’ll talk about the present and how i will certainly remember this release in the context of where i am now in my life. it’s now been a whole year of the COVID-19 pandemic, a year where i’d really hoped to *find* myself after two years of my phd program continuing to make me feel lost and completely inadequate. the crippling depression, anxiety, and doubt that i carried since moving the DC is still with me, but before COVID-19 hit i had finally - in many ways - made peace with my life. i’d found some energy for my studies and future. things had been looking up. but since the pandemic, i’ve felt much of those feelings creep back in. slowly but surely my demons returned. 

when i turned on blue side for the first time, the same emotions ran through me... a longing for simplicity, a longing for a time when my mind and heart weren’t constantly running, a time when i hadn’t complicated the future i wanted for myself. a longing not to be alone. immediately when i listened to the song i saw my painting of jo march’s monologue in the 2019 adaptation: “women have minds and souls as well as hearts, ambition and talent as well as beauty and i’m sick of being told that love is all a woman is fit for. but... i am so lonely.” while this has absolutely nothing to do with blue side - my mind went there. how life would be simple if i’d abided by the simple life that was destined for me growing up in a small town. i’d have fallen in love, taken a job without much thought, everything would have been easy, i’d never be lonely and the questions and complications of my dreams would be far away (or would they? this version of home is likely fabricated --- see above). as the quote says, she wants to have everything, but in pursuing her dreams she found tremendous loneliness. the blue side, that period of innocence though, perhaps it has it’s own demons as well. there’s the lonliness, the pressure, and the challenges of burning for your dreams as well though - and that’s where i am, that’s also what hoseok is speaking too. i’m not sure right now what exactly i’m longing for. perhaps it’s not the past, perhaps it’s a complete reimagining of my future as the uncertainty of the pandemic continues to play out... either way, there’s a blue side in my mind i *do* long for, a side of innocence and peace - where i can be content with myself and what i’m doing with my time, my thoughts, my energy. i truly hope i can go back to *that* blue side. 

although i’m not sure when that will be, listening to blue side makes me feel that i’m not alone. others relate to this song, it’s message, and obviously it came from hoseok’s very heart. we aren’t alone. those of us that leave all that we knew, leave our innocence and homes in the past - we can forge ahead and become bright and give off warmth to others. hopefully we can sustain the blue fine inside ourselves - much like hoseok. or hopefully there’s a blue side in our minds we can visit when we need respite. 

song breakdown

musically: blue side isn’t the type of track one would have ever anticipated from hoseok unless they’ve really listened to a lot of his interviews and content - where he shows his several dimensions and facets of his personality. hoseok is deeply emotional (not just a sunshine all the time) and his mind has a haunting edge of seriousness, loneliness, and longing to it. the tone of the song, the beat, it’s very soft. not sad, but relaxing, almost bringing in this numb feeling to it. there’s a lo-fi sound to it. as soon as it comes on the listener should feel a sense of calm. you cannot listen to blue side without just feeling mellow. it’s healing despite the darker lyrical content. 

vocally: jung honey vocals hoseok. a combination of singing and smooth rap dominate blue side. ARMY may be unfamiliar with hoseok’s gorgeous singing voice, but they won’t be now. hoseok displays his emotion up front in his whisper singing. it’s almost like he’s telling himself like “just calm down now, it’s okay to retreat to a place where you feel safe.” his rapping voice takes on the same calm demeanor, delivering almost a lullaby to the listener - perhaps hoseok knew that the message of blue side would be one that all of us could resonate deeply with and wanted to ensure that when we listened to it, it was like having a conversation with a friend about feeling nostalgic and yearning for a version of yourself that doesn’t exist anymore. 

lyrically: while we don’t know everything hoseok has gone through, we don’t know what exactly inspired blue side, we were lucky enough to receive a note with the extended version of blue side. hoseok states that when looks back at when he was writing hope world he feels he was a very innocent boy. he was coloring in the man he is today, and he stated that sometimes he truly misses who he was in the past, his innocence and the simplicity of that time. perhaps he’s speaking to the early days of BTS, or even before BTS, or perhaps just before he knew some of the hardships that come along with growing old (which growing old is something he also mentions in the note). hoseok also specifically references a growing homesickness that he’s felt as time has passed. a homesickness for who he used to be. before things picked up and pressure started. 

in the first verse of blue side we are confronted with just this narrative. hoseok states “everything changed between us, i shout alone” - he feels like he’s left who he was completely and now he’s alone, that younger version of his isn’t something he carries with him anymore. it’s something though that he’d like the return to. that “time when i didn’t know anything” a time of innocence and ignorance. a time without problems and stressors. unlike today. 

the chorus is very simple - in haunting and beautiful j-hope fashion - hoseok chants “back to blue side” and it’s almost like this is a return to simplicity. in simply saying what he wants and not complicating it, the juxtaposition with the choruses is quite profound. 

the next verse is more tricky, it’s like a daydream (something that hoseok seems to do often - he’s got a whole song about it). it’s almost like hoseok feels like he can transport himself to that previous state he rides “the wind in the sky to that place in this moment, blue” and he states that it’s “now comforting my heart, blue” then the meaning of blue seems to change as we move into the following verse... hoseok is clearly speaking of making music when he says he “spits out my pains in the dark” he’s sharing his pain, all that he’s carrying with him. he “wanted to walk the blue road, on the rainbow” at this point it seems like the blue side is almost shifting to be his dreams (perhaps the blue side is something he’s nostalgic about but also he’s nostalgic for the version of his dreams that he imagined back when he was innocent and conceived of fame differently than the reality). he’s “singing my blues, singing my bloom, back in my room” alluding to pain that he carries now and the pain that he carried then - while different - it was present in both... but he’d prefer the pain of the past because “i was blue with light breaths” he had some reprieve, whereas now he doesn’t feel like he has the same. 

the closure of the third verse is probably the most contentious lyric in the song. “but now i just want to burn blue and die.” likely because this is a dark lyric for someone with the public image that “j-hope” has. specifically i use j-hope here, as hoseok has been very candid in explaining that who he is on stage and in public isn’t entirely him and isn’t his whole being. while he is j-hope, j-hope is not completely him. part of me wants to go for the easy pickings and say that hoseok wishes sometimes that he could almost kill this persona, and return to simpler times when he got to be hoseok. or perhaps this is his way of saying he wants to share more of hoseok with us, rather than this polished image he’s created which is exhausting and feels alien next to the boy he was during the *blue side* of his life. but i don’t think this is all. i think it’s also got something to do with burning blue, hitting his peak, getting to the point he wants to get to and riding it to wherever it takes him next - to whatever his identity will change to, killing/burning the past and bringing about a new blue side. i think this line is also alluding to the desire to having time to just open up his entire being a truly feel all of the pain and emotions that he’s had over time as he had to grow up quickly and focus hard on his dreams. 

finally - we get to the bridge. this is hoseok’s comforting message for all of us listening. hoseok’s dream has always been to provide others healing and comfort through his music, being able to do that is extremely important for him. the bridge brings that forward. i almost feel like this bridge is him acknowledging that that boy from the blue side still exists. the lines almost allude to us being with him in his “blue dream” he’s taken us there to “carry” and  “hug” us. perhaps he’s felt further away from this dream as fame has taken over, and now he wants to reassure his fans and those that appreciate his art that he hasn’t lost his innocence or heart completely - he will carry us to that place of nostalgia, innocence and purity to offer us comfort as well. “you might say i cannot, but i’ll put you in my arms” he will defy those who discredit his depth and realness and take us into his mind and bring us the comfort he wanted to supply us. 

BUT i also think this message is for himself. he will find away to carry who he is today back to his blue side, back to his period of innocence and purity. he hasn’t turned his back on who he was, he longs for that person more than ever and he’s determined to continue to carry who he is and who he was at the same time. while that’s not exactly the same as being in the blue side - it’s like being in a “blue dream” which can be enough to suffice for some time. 

tl;dr: blue side is a masterpiece. it’s a highlight for hoseok’s career. the depth of emotion conveyed in this piece is insane. hoseok offers up a level of vulnerability not often found in the music industry. he serves it packaged in a unique sounding song that offers the listener nothing but comfort and nostalgia (especially given that it is a reboot of an album that many of us hold dearly to our hearts). what’s even more beautiful about it is that likely many of us have our own blue side from when hope world was released, and perhaps we too are longing for the innocence and purity of that time... this song offers us solace in that we aren’t alone in this feeling. 

[raevenlywrites]

Dasi High 2 of ?

All day long, all I wanted was my book. My book. I thrilled at the way the thought seemed to pulse in my head, heavy with the weight of destiny or something. It had to be some kind of strangeness at work, to put this exact book into my exact hands with my exact little name on it. Kiesha... It wasn’t exactly a sorceress’s name, but still, it wasn’t that common. Not for books that looked like they’d been buried under the sea for the last thousand years or whatever. “This should be in a museum,” ala Indiana Jones and all that. My book. It filled my chest with warmth just thinking about it.

But I kept it in my bag all through school, even during lunch. No Coke, greasy pizza, or nosy teachers were going to threaten my ancient tome. I wasn’t an idiot. I was going to keep it safe until I got home.

Safely ensconced in my beautiful window seat, the envy of all book lovers and cat nappers everywhere, I savored the moment, feeling the heft of the book in my lap, breathing deep of its good, good book smell. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a technophobe, but books man--nothing compares to the feel of thick pages beneath your hands, the crinkle, the earthy smell. Yeah. There was a reason Brass thought I might be into it, namesake notwithstanding.

The cover was plain, well-worn, shiny and slick to the touch with the press of so many hands before. The finish had worn off the lettering and embellishments, but fingers could trace the rise and indents of them. I suddenly wondered if I should be handling something so hold, then realized I had no idea how old it even was. Oh well. Brass’s mom wouldn’t have let him have it if it was priceless, right? With a steadying breath, I cracked the cover.

The glue had long since stopped holding the pages in, but the binding was still sound. Maybe I’d ask Donte or Nalini later if either of them knew anything about repairing old bindings. They were both always doing handsy stuff, Donnie with his computers, and Nani with eir soaps and stuff. Surely one of them would know something, or be able to point me in the right direction. For now, I gingerly laid the cover open in my lap and turned the pages with a reverence I almost never felt for anything. I hadn’t been this careful with a book since my Sandman hardcover omnibus I got for my last birthday.

Enough stalling. It was time to read.

I was surprised to note my own reluctance. I’m not usually one for drama, but this... it just felt heavy. Important. Like it mattered.

The front endpaper had a yellowed bookplate pasted in, painted with an elegant symbol or crest or something I didn’t recognize. It looked almost like a stick figure of someone dancing, arms reaching up and stance wide--except there were weird branches coming off, like cursive flourishes. Maybe it was a signature? If so it wasn’t in any language I could read. I suddenly panicked at the thought that I wouldn’t be able to read any of it, aside from my name, and eagerly turned the page, anticipation mixing with dread.

But instead of a title page, or anything even printed, it was another handwritten page, like a dedication, or maybe a poem or something. It was written in the same kind of cursivey, wavy letters as the bookplate, and with growing anxiety I turned to the next page.

The family tree.

Thin, spidery hand writing covered the pages, faded, but definitely in the familiar English characters. Arabic? Or was the for numbers? Whatever. I could read it, that was what mattered. It was hard to parse, just as it had been at school, but I found the letters of my name quickly, and my finger hovered over the page, tracing the line down. Don...Donovan? Sisal... Salem... It was almost impossible to make out, save for the ever-clear Kiesha. Almost like that was the only part I was meant to read. I stared at the whole page, trying to let my eyes go soft focused, to see if anything else jumped out at me, but the longer I looked, the harder to read it became. I gave up and turned the page.

A list of names and dates followed, like you’d expect from an almanac. But instead of useful things like “March 3rd” or “Spring Equinox” it said things like, “the fourth night of cheres” or “the eve of Namir-da”. It was English, but just barely. I skimmed the page but quickly moved past it, eager for something that made sense.

It was hard not to let my disappoint take hold. This book had felt so special--it was special, just... not what I’d been expecting. Recipes, as Brass had said, and almanacy things, lie when to plant, but nothing that gave me any sense of wonder, or importance. I was just about to give up when I finally came across a section written in plain English.

They say the time has come. I have been given the family book, and told its mine to keep. But what I am expected to do with it, I cannot say. I have nothing of my own to add. I am not even the oldest of the family line. But I feel I should write something, to mark the occasion if nothing else. So here I do write, on this, the first of August, in the year seventeen hundred and seventy-one, that I, Kiera Cortana, am now in charge of the family book, for better or for worse.

Whoa. Now that was seriously cool. I flipped back to the family tree, to see if I could find Kiera. There, near the bottom, Kiera Cortana, 1753. Neat. That made her... seventeen, eighteen when she wrote her entry? Wow. Barely any older than me. That warm tingle started again, that sense of connection, and I just let my hand rest on the page, fingers just below her name. There wasn’t any more after hers, though there was room for more. Hope for the future that never came.

The warmth turned to sadness, a kind of longing I couldn’t really put my finger on. I got that way sometimes, just out of the blue. Homesick for a place that didn't’ exist. At least here I kind of got it, sad for a girl who may or may not have ever grown up. There was more after her first journal entry, but it was just more recipes and things, and more of that squiggle script I had no idea how to read. On an impulse, I got out a notebook and copied down what letters I could make out, including the symbol on the front book plate. I wanted to look at it more later, when I was stuck at school, but I didn’t want to risk bringing the actual book there. It was so old, at least three hundred. Man, Brass totally shouldn’t have let me have this. I decided to call him and give him a hard time about it.

“Hey, Ki, is everything okay?”

I frowned at the concern in his voice. “Yes, Dad, I’m fine. I’m not always in mortal danger or whatever you seem to think.”

Brass snorted. “Well I assumed you had to be in trouble since you’re calling. Normally you just text.”

Oh. Right.

“Just wanted to chat,” I said, too casually, but he'd caught me off guard. I used to call Brass all the time. It was weird to realized I’d stopped. “I’ve been looking through that book you gave me.” When in doubt, change the subject.

“Yeah? Anything good?”

I heard the sound of a sliding glass door in the background, the tell-tale sign of Brass going out to sit on the back deck. He used to do it to be near the TV antenna, hoping it would give him better cell signal. Now it was just habit. I smiled, picturing him there, long and lanky and lean, back against the side of the house as he balanced on the deck railing, one long leg trailing down...

“Kiesha?”

“Hm?”

I made a startled little noise as I came back to myself. “Oh, right. Yeah, it’s pretty cool. Did you know it was so old? There’s an entry from the 1700’s in it.”

“Oh man, really?” He sounded equal parts excited and embarrassed. “I didn’t know that. Maybe I should let Mom look at it again...”

“No way,” I teased, “It’s mine now. Has my name in it and everything.”

“It has mine too.”

His voice was so soft I almost missed it. But I scanned the page and sure enough, Brassal was on a similar line as Kiesha.

“Weird... Almost as weird as your stupid name.”

I laughed to take the edge of, both from my words and from the creeping feeling working its way up my spine. Brass had always gone by the nickname, with Brassal being reserved for his father. I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me to see it in an old timey book like this; it had probably been handed down a long line of people, like Maeve’s super grandma name. But still. It freaked me, and when I got freaked, I teased. Make everyone else feel off balance and it was an even playing field again.

“Yeah, yeah, Cobriana. Tell me all about weird names.”

I stuck my tongue out, even though he couldn’t see. Still, it made me feel better. Sky blue, grass green, Brass and I teased. I had missed this. It was good to be getting it back.

“You wanna come over for pizza and movies Friday?”

It was out of my mouth before I’d really thought about it. But his hesitation made me wish I’d just kept railing on his stupid name.

“Uh, how ‘bout Saturday. I have... plans. For Friday.”

No way. No freakin way. “Don’t tell me you gave in to Izzy,” I said with a disinterest I didn’t quite feel. “You know she’s only sharpening her claws on you for a real takedown.”

“Don’t be like that, Ki. Isadora can do what she wants, with who she wants.”

I mocked “Isadora,” in as childish a tone as I could manage. No one called her that, not even Izzy herself. Except Landon. But Landon was cyborg and completely incapable of using contractions or imprecise grammar, like ever.

“And what she wants is apparently to play kissy face with Serv, for all the good that’ll do her.”

“Serv?!” I could not keep the surprise out of my voice. Serv was like, canonically asexual. Or at the very least, not interested in someone as bubblegum pop as Izzy.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Brass said. “I didn’t ask, not that that stopped her from volunteering. Apparently they’re driving into the city to see a show or something.”

“Okay....” Izzy on a date with Servos. What an odd couple. I couldn’t fathom what sort of attraction would hold interest for both of them. But then, if such a thing existed, it would be in the city, not in this whole in the wall town. We didn’t even have a mall. “Well, good for them, I guess. So what about your mysterious plans?”

Brass groaned. “I’d hoped you’d forgotten. ”

“Nope. Spill it.”

He sighed. “I’m going to the movies... with Syfka.”

I gaped. “You’re joking. You’re joking! Why on earth would you want to go to the movies with her--xem?”

I was normally better with Syfka’s pronouns than this, but it was hard not to think of anyone out on date with Brass as anything but a her--a her he might want to kiss. Trying to apply that mental box to Syfka, of all people--

“Because--” Brass cut through my thoughts, “we have a project due, and it was either write a paper on a French film, or try to speed read through a work of French literature that I have zero hope of understanding because its kind of my worst subject.”

Oh. Right. School stuff. A perfectly reasonable reason to go to the movies with someone.

“Right. Okay. Yeah. So, does that mean you need to stay in and write it on Saturday.”

Brass laughed, and I couldn’t help but feel like it was at my expense.

“Nah. Come Saturday night, I’ll either be done, or I’ll be failed. Either way, pizza and a movie sounds great.”

“Okay...”

I couldn’t shake the little tight feeling in my chest. This call had thrown me. Everything about Brass seemed to throw me lately.

“Why don’t you invite Nikki over too? Or maybe Maeve?”

My toes curled under at that last. Maeve may or may not have been the reason Brass and I finally broke up. I hadn’t decided yet. Either way, I couldn’t imagine him volunteering to hang out with her.

“I wouldn’t subject you to that....”

“Ki, I told you I’m alright with it. Have her over, see if you still feel all tingly.”

I laughed, but it was hardly humorous. “I can’t believe you’re encouraging me to get my flirt on in front of you.”

I could feel him shrug through the line, that careless raise of a shoulder that meant everything and nothing.

“You’re too shy to do it yourself. I’m just gonna keep inventing reasons to get you two together until you get over yourself. Or she asks you.”

“Brass!”

But now I was really laughing, and his goal was achieved. I felt better, so he felt better. Stupid big brother mother hen. I smiled through the rest of the phone call, chatting about everything and nothing, and feeling more like myself than I had in a long time.

-

Raev’s general tag list: As always, let me know if you want to be added or removed or whatevs (especially since this is kind of a far cry from what I usually do)

List is currently: @lordkingsmith @writinglyra @drbibliophile @mperialscribe @adie-dee @lexiklecksi @theramwrites @writinginslowmotion @faithfire @apollon-arium  @thehellinsideyourhead @raenawrites @adventuresofacreesty @anika-writes.

[giant-sketches]

The Guardian Naga Chpt. 1

Soooooooo...here’s the first chapter for the next Sander Sides au I’m working on. This is more of a set up chapter so no gt stuff until the next one and this will be more of a story compared to my Mass Emotions narrative. I haven’t written in years nor have I ever done a fanfic so please be kind. I hope you enjoy it as it progresses! :D

   Once upon a time in a far off land there were two princes. The crown prince was born five minutes earlier and grew into a rough and naughty child. He treated the castle and the people as his play things. Every day he would cause multiple incidences from food fights in the dining room, dying the queen's gowns multi-color, spitting in the servants meals, and knocking down merchant’s stalls in the square with his favorite spiked mace. The young man was thus referred to as Prince Rotten Remus by the people.   On the other hand, the second prince was charismatic and well mannered. Most of his days were spent helping with the clean up after Remus’s antics, practicing his swordsmanship with the guards, studying in the library, and sneaking out to the hills to relax and sing. Sure, he too found himself in quite a bit of trouble in his youth, but none of what he did could come paired with Remus. This beloved second prince was lovingly nicknamed Prince Roman the Songbird.   As time carried on they reached the age of sixteen. There was only two more years to go until Remus would succeed the throne, but he grew impatient. One night Remus hatched a plan to perform a coup for the crown, but was quickly discovered before he was able to slam his mace into the king's skull. He was promptly stripped of his title and exiled from the kingdom.

“I don’t understand! Why would you do something so foolish when you were the crown prince? I mean, I-I knew you were a violent person but to try to kill your own father.” 

Roman stuttered as he spoke. Before he could never see his brother again he wanted to know what led him to such a malicious plot.

Remus gave a toothy grin and cocked his head to the side as he answered. “I wasn’t about who had the crown I simply just wanted it now is all. I’m only disappointed I didn’t get to enjoy the candy inside that pinata.”

Stunned by his callous response and he remained silent as Remus was escorted outside the castle and marched to the gates. It was truly at that moment that Roman realized his brother simply deranged from the start.   Promptly, Roman was named the new crowned prince to the approval of the people who rejoiced vigorously with their cheers and cries. Not a word of Remus came across their lips as Roman ascended the throne at eighteen and continued to rule for the next twelve years. Now thirty years old Roman ruled gallantly as the saving grace for the people who would still be suffering at his brother’s hands. His childhood friends Patton and Logan assisted him as his personal butler and captain of the guard. Together they helped to protect and grow the kingdom into a place of happiness and wonder. Yet, all good things must come to an end.   A mysterious letter signed with the initials R.R. on the cover was delivered one morning. At first Roman was hesitant to open it, but he swallowed back his fears and ripped it open hastily. Inside the letter read:

‘Hello dear baby brother! It’s been such a long time since we’ve last spoken. Being on the other side of the continent has been a lot of fun though. I even made some friends that just love to hear about my old homeland. Still, I’m getting pretty homesick; thus, I plan on coming back in three months and my friends are coming with me. No need to worry about the party favors though. We’ve got an army tagging along for the ride and they’ve got the best firecrackers and party cannons around! Be seeing you soon, with love Remus.’

The letter slid from Roman’s grip as he felt his consciousness fading. Patton reacted quickly as he placed his hand on the back of Roman’s head to act as a cushion.

“Your Majesty are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but at the same time I’m not. This letter is from my brother.”

“From Remus? What in the world does he want all of a sudden.”

“No, it’s not about what he wants. He’s bringing an army. It’s war!”

“WAR?!” Indeed, Remus was looking to start a war. It was unclear if this was an attempt at getting revenge or if he simply thought it was a fun idea though. Either way this was bad, really bad!

“Patton, call for Logan immediately. We need to hold a meeting this instance!”

“Understood Your Majesty!” Patton quickly left and hurried himself to locate Logan.

“This is a disaster.” mumbled Roman has he clapped his hands to his face in distress.

  Shortly after the three of them, along with other council members met up in the hall to discuss their war plan. From topics of recruitment, supplies, training, geography, strategy, etc. The talking went on for hours. Unfortunately, one thing was perfectly clear to Roman and that was the fact that because of the sustained peace the kingdom was grossly unprepared for war. It wasn’t that they weren’t capable, but they didn’t know how big the army was going to be or even the name of the kingdom that was coming to invade in three months. It would take time to send out scouts that far and even longer to retrieve their gathered intel. Roman was at a loss on what to do to guarantee victory.

  That night he snuck out to the hills to think. He simply didn’t want his people to experience war or suffer from it. There had to be some other way.

“I knew I’d find you here!” Suddenly a familiar voice called out from behind.

“Patton! You scared me for a second there.”

“My bad. Did you come out here to think?”

“I did, but it’s been of no help. I just don’t know what to do. I’m supposed to have a plan as the King, but right now I feel so useless.”

“Now, there's no need to be so down on yourself Roman. You are an amazing King! We’ll get through this together.”

Patton sat down next to Roman on the hillside and placed his hand on Roman’s shoulder to comfort him. A soft breeze blew past them and a faint memory of a long forgotten tale popped inside Roman’s mind.

“The Naga.”

“Excuse me?”

“The tale of the Naga that lives in the Eastern caves! It’s said if you can tame the best that dwells inside it’s grand power will be yours!”

“Roman, that’s just a fairy-tale. There’s no way something like a Naga could really exist and no one knows about it.”

“I’m willing to believe and try anything! I’ll go into the caves tomorrow and look for it.”

“Roman, that’s way too dangerous. At least take Lo-”

“Please don’t tell Logan. He’ll either lock me in my room or bring a small army with him to guard me. I need to do this by myself.”

Patton shot Roman an expression of uncertainty, but lost completely in the face of those puppy dog eyes. He sighed and nodded his head in response.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything rash. At the first sight of danger you run, got it?”

“I promise!”    

   With that the two of them returned to the castle undetected. The next morning Roman prepared himself to leave for the Eastern caves after dinner. He packed a lantern, snacks, a first aid kit, an extra pair of clothes, and climbing tools. He knew following along with such a fairy-tale may lead to a dead end, but he had to try. Unfortunately, he had not remembered the full story of the Naga and how those that search for it with a deceitful heart will be eaten as a sacrifice.

End Chapter 1

[songtoyou]

Tempting Fate - Part Five

Paring: Tommy Shelby x Reader

Warnings: Nothing major, but there is lots of smoking, particularly marijuana.

Word Count: 2,098

Story Summary: Tommy is not a believer in fate or destiny. However, a new resident in Small Heath will question his beliefs and push his boundaries outside his comfort zone.

A/N: Remember, this story takes place during season two of the show. May Carleton makes an appearance in this chapter. Once again, I included Romani phrases in this chapter. I found the phrase online and hope it is correct. If it isn’t, then I am profoundly sorry and do not wish to offend anyone. That is never my intent. Remember, there is no Grace or Greta in this fic. They do not exist in the realm of this alternate universe.

Please do not post any of my fics to other sites without my permission.

Tag list: @owenniasstars​

You did not know what you and Tommy were to each other. The terms “boyfriend” and “girlfriend” didn’t seem right as it was too mundane and basic. However, you and Tommy had grown a little be closer after you both apologized for miscommunicating with one another. Tommy would often walk you home at night after work and stay the night. It became routine for you to wake up next to him in the morning, which was nice and comforting. 

For Tommy, being with you was nothing he had ever experienced before. Before the war, he would go on dates every once in a while, but nothing ever lasted longer than a week or two. After the war, it was all one-night stands or nights spent at whore houses. However, with you, it was all new for him. There was something about being with you that Tommy could not quite describe the feeling until Polly coaxed it out of him. 

“Safe. Thomas, you feel safe for the first in a long time. Being with this girl will change your life for the better. She is good for you. The two of you will balance one another, her lightness with your darkness. However, there is a darkness in her as well, just as I can see the light in you, my dear nephew. But make no mistake, it is still in you to do some good in this world. Let her help,” Polly explained one day while Tommy was in his office. 

Leaning back in his chair, Tommy could nothing but agree with his aunt, “I know that Pol. Part of me is terrified.” He went on to tell Aunt Polly that he didn’t want to “ruin” you or get you hurt, but Polly waved him off.

“Tommy, she can take care of herself. As a gypsy, she has seen things in her life, just like you. Remember, you said it yourself. She is you. And you are her. You are each other’s match.”

One thing about being connected to Tommy was that people around Small Heath treated you differently. The women smiled at you more, while the men tipped their hats to you and greeted you with “mam” or “miss.” It was all new to you.

Even the male patrons at the bar treated you differently. No longer did they affectionately give you a hard time or joke around with you. They maintained their distance but were respectful. You particularly noticed how the men made sure to act accordingly around you whenever Tommy stopped by The Garrison. It was the same when John and Arthur were around.

You were in the back room of the bar when Esme stopped by one afternoon. She greeted you with a hug and kiss on the cheek. “Let’s go for a walk down by the Cut, yeah,” Esme suggested. “It is slow out there. I am sure Harry could give you a break.”

“Okay. Let me finish up these last few glasses, then we can head out,” You replied to the woman who was quickly becoming your best friend. You were thankful to have Esme around. She was another person you could confide in. Esme reminded you of your sisters back home and how much you missed them. You pushed the homesick feeling aside and finished cleaning the last bar glass. Wiping your hands on your apron, Esme followed you to the front of the bar.

You told Harry that you were taking your break. “Harry, I won’t be gone too long, okay.”

“Take your time, dear. I don’t think I’ll be expecting a rush anytime soon,” said Harry wiping down the tables.

While the two you walked arm-in-arm, Esme asked how you were holding up now that you were considered Tommy’s “girl” and all. “I’m not his girl, Esme,” you laughed off your friend’s accusation.

Esme rolled her eyes. “Don’t act naïve now, my dear friend. You are Tommy’s girl. Everyone knows it. He better be treating you right. If he doesn’t, I’ll cut his balls right off.”

“So, far so good. He has been very…I don’t know…” you began but stopped to try to collect your thoughts.

“What?” Esme asked.

“It is like there are two sides to Tommy, you know: public Tommy and private Tommy,” you began to explain. “In public, Tommy is always guarded, which I get. He has to be with what he does. However, when it is the two of us alone, he is something else. He is so sweet and gentle. He smiles more too. And laughs. Tommy has the cutest laugh I have ever heard. So delightful to the ears.”

Esme smiled at her friend and said, “I have never once heard Tommy laugh. Didn’t even know he could do such a thing.”

“So, when are you and John any closer to expanding your family? Lord knows you both like the activity that goes with procreation.”

“Not yet. But hopefully soon. The kids are looking forward to having another brother or sister in the mix. I’m lucky, you know. I was worried that John’s children wouldn’t accept when we got married. I was worried that I would never be able to live up to Martha as a wife or mother,” Esme revealed to you as the two of you finally reached the Cut. 

Sitting on a box crate, Esme sat down beside you. She pulled out a rolled cannabis cigarette and began to light it. Coughing out a puff, she passed the joint over to you. “John loves you very much, Esme. The kids adore you. Why wouldn’t they? You are so much fun, so sweet, caring, and they will always have your back. Kids have pure hearts. They can sense when someone is a good person, and you fit the bill. You’re special, my dear. Everyone is lucky to grace your presence sees what a wonderful woman you are.”

Blushing, Esme looked down at her feet. “You could give John a run for his money with the way you can talk a woman up.”

You chuckled and took in a puff. The effects of the rolled cannabis were setting in and making you feel relax and calm. It was a nice feeling. The two of you sat in comfortable silence while passing the joint back and forth. 

You and Esme turned heads when commotion came from Charlie’s Yard. “I wonder what is going on over there?” you wondered aloud and handed Esme the joint. “I’m going to go check it out. You want to come along?”

“Nah, I better get back to the house,” said Esme and stubbed out the joint and put it in her pocket. “See you later.”

You waved goodbye and walked over to Charlie’s. You saw him and Curly with Pyramus. Instantly, you saw the horse was agitated. You picked up your speed to reach the horse.

“Hey, what is going on? Is he okay?” you asked, concerned for Pyramus’s well-being. 

Charlie told you that they were getting Pyramus ready for transport, but the horse was not up for it. 

“I told you it wasn’t a good idea,” Curly mumbled. “He doesn’t want to leave, Charlie.”

Charlie merely sighed, “Curly, the horse will be fine. He is stubborn as usual, like his owner.” 

“May I?” you asked Charlie. When he gave you an okay, you reached out to Pyramus and began rubbing his muzzle. “It’s okay, boy. You’re going to okay. Rum tum bi Salama (Go in peace),” you said to Pyramus softly. “Si tut bocklo? (Are you hungry?)”

You turned to Curly and asked he had any treats for Pyramus. “It might help him calm down. He loves apples or carrots,” you told him. 

“I might have some around. I’ll be back,” said Curly and left to retrieve the treats. 

You continued to pet Pyramus, which seemed to help calm him for the time being. It only got better when Curly returned with an apple, which you began to cut up for Pyramus to eat. “He seems to be more relaxed.”

All of a sudden, an extra pair of footsteps could be heard approaching. You could make out Tommy’s voice not too far, but there was another voice with him. A feminine voice. One you had not heard before. You quickly turned around to see Tommy walking with a beautiful woman. From the looks of her clothes, you could tell she was wealthy. 

When Tommy saw you with Pyramus, he smiled at you and introduced you to the woman, May Carleton. She would be the one to train Pyramus. You shook her hand and offered a ‘hello.’ She went up the horse and began petting him along with you.

You told her that Pyramus tended to respond well with treats when stressed. May smiled at you. “He is a beautiful horse. Overly sweet, but he will make a good racehorse,” May remarked and turned back to Tommy. “The timeline you want the horse ready for Epsom is not much, but I can get him ready.” 

You didn’t care for how May only referred to Pyramus as “the horse.” It was like she only viewed him as a job and not one of God’s best creatures. You looked over at Pyramus, and he was happily chomping away at his apple. He was too innocent for a life as a racehorse. The last thing you wanted was for Pyramus to be broken. You could feel the panic start to rise in your chest and your breath start to quicken. You didn’t know if it was anxiety or the joint you just smoked making you feel that way. 

“Tommy,” you spoke up and got his attention. You motioned with your hand for him to follow, which he obliged. When the two of you were away from the others, you spoke your concerns. “How much do you know about this May Carleton? Is she trustworthy? What are her methods for training a horse?” you went on, but Tommy silenced you by placing a kiss on your lips.

When Tommy retreated, he cupped your face and looked at you with adoring eyes. “Pyramus will be taken care of, I promise. I would not send him away if I didn’t know that he would be treated well. May’s family has a long history of training racehorses. She knows what she is doing.”

You breathed a sigh of relief at Tommy’s reassurance. Now you felt silly. “I’m sorry for worrying. You probably think I’m childish,” you expressed quietly, looking down at the ground.

Tommy touched your chin to make you look at him directly. His blue eyes always left you breathless. You could drown in them if you stared too long. No amount of alcohol, cannabis, opium, or other drugs could compare to Tommy Shelby’s effects on you. He was addicting. He was handsome. He was dangerous. He was cruel. He was scary. He could also be kind and sweet-tempered. Tommy Shelby was an enigma. He would become a stain on your existence one way or another, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“Sijoukar,” you said suddenly.

When Tommy asked who, you scoffed. “May. She is pretty. Don’t you think?”

“Hadn’t noticed.”

“Liar,” you teased. “Even I can admit she is gorgeous. It’s okay. I don’t mind if you think other women are attractive. It is part of human nature.”

With a smirk, Tommy wrapped his arms around you and gave you one last deep kiss. “You better get back to work. I’ll see you late tonight, and I’ll walk you home, yeah.” 

He walked you towards the exit with his hand in yours. You waved goodbye to Curly and Charlie and gave a polite nod to May. You didn’t miss the brief look of disappointment on May’s face when she saw you and Tommy walk past her hand-in-hand. You smirked when you passed the woman. 

“I’ll tell you what, how about after a couple of weeks, we go visit Pyramus? See how he is doing and all. You and me, together,” suggested Tommy as you both neared the Yard’s exit.

“Really?” you asked, bewildered at Tommy’s idea.  

“Why not? It would be our first adventure together. What do you say?”

“I like that idea. Oh, think of a fun and trouble we could get into. I don’t think the world is ready for us, Mr. Shelby,” you laughed and wrapped your arms around Tommy’s shoulders.

Again, kissing you on the lips, Tommy leaned into your ear to whisper, “We are going to set the world on fire, love. You and me, love.” 

[percysaysfuck]

THREE OLD BITCHES KNIT THE SOCKS OF DEATH

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but usually they were over quickly. This twenty-four/seven hallucination was more than I could handle. For the rest of the school year, the entire campus seemed to be playing some kind of trick on me. The students acted as if they were completely and totally convinced that Mrs. Kerr—a perky blond woman whom I'd never seen in my life until she got on our bus at the end of the field trip—had been our pre-algebra teacher since Christmas.

Every so often I would spring a Mrs. Dodds reference on somebody, just to see if I could trip them up, but they would stare at me like I was psycho.

It got so I almost believed them—Mrs. Dodds had never existed.

Almost.

But Grover couldn't fool me. When I mentioned the name Dodds to him, he would hesitate, then claim she didn't exist. But I knew he was fucking lying.

Something was going on. Something had happened at the museum.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the days, but at night, visions of Mrs. Dodds with talons and leathery wings would wake me up in a cold sweat.

The freak weather continued, which didn't help my mood. One night, a thunderstorm blew out the windows in my dorm room. A few days later, the biggest tornado ever spotted in the Hudson Valley touched down only fifty miles from Yancy Academy. One of the current events we studied in social studies class was the unusual number of small planes that had gone down in sudden squalls in the Atlantic that year.

I started feeling cranky and irritable most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into more fights with Nancy Bobofit and her shit faced friends. I was sent out into the hallway in almost every class.

Finally, when our English teacher, Mr. Nicoll, asked me for the millionth time why I was too lazy to study for spelling tests, I snapped. I called him an old sot. I wasn't even sure what it meant, but it sounded good.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, making it official: I would not be invited back next year to Yancy Academy.

Fine, I told myself. Just fine.

I was homesick.

I wanted to be with my mom in our little apartment on the Upper East Side, even if I had to go to public school and put up with my obnoxious fucking stepfather and his shitty poker parties.

And yet. . . there were things I'd miss at Yancy. The view of the woods out my dorm window, the Hudson River in the distance, the smell of pine trees. Id miss Grover, who'd been a good friend, even if he was a little fucked up. I worried how he'd survive next year without me.

I'd miss Latin class, too—Mr. Brunner's crazy tournament days and his faith that I could do well.

As exam week got closer, Latin was the only test I studied for. I hadn't forgotten what Mr. Brunner had told me about this subject being life-and-death for me. I wasn't sure why, but I'd started to believe him.

The evening before my final, I got so frustrated I threw the Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, the letters doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards. There was no way I was going to remember the difference between Chiron and Charon, or Polydictes and Polydeuces. And conjugating those Latin verbs? Fucking forget it.

I paced the room, feeling like ants were crawling around inside my shirt.

I remembered Mr. Brunner's serious expression, his thousand-year-old eyes. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson. I took a deep breath. I picked up the mythology book.

I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr. Brunner, he could give me some pointers. At least I could apologize for the big fat F I was about to score on his exam. I didn't want to leave Yancy Academy with him thinking I hadn't tried.

I walked downstairs to the faculty offices. Most of them were dark and empty, but Mr. Brunner's door was ajar, light from his window stretching across the hallway floor.

I was three steps from the door handle when I heard voices inside the office. Mr. Brunner asked a question. A voice that was definitely Grover's said ". . . worried about Percy, sir. "

I froze.

Shit.

I'm not usually an eavesdropper, but I dare you to try not listening if you hear your best friend talking shit about you to an adult.

I inched closer.

". . . alone this summer," Grover was saying. "I mean, a Kindly One in the school! Now that we know for sure, and they know too—"

"We would only make matters worse by rushing him," Mr. Brunner said. "We need the boy to mature more. "

"But he may not have time. The summer solstice deadline— "

"Will have to be resolved without him, Grover. Let him enjoy his ignorance while he still can. "

"Sir, he saw her. . . . "

"His imagination," Mr. Brunner insisted. "The Mist over the students and staff will be enough to convince him of that. "

"Sir, I . . . I can't fail in my duties again. " Grover's voice was choked with emotion. "You know what that would mean. "

"You haven't failed, Grover," Mr. Brunner said kindly. "I should have seen her for what she was. Now lets just worry about keeping Percy alive until next fall—"

The mythology book dropped out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud.

Fuck.

Mr. Brunner went silent.

My heart hammering, I picked up the book and backed down the hall.

A shadow slid across the lighted glass of Brunner's office door, the shadow of something much taller than my wheelchair-bound teacher, holding something that looked suspiciously like an archers bow.

I opened the nearest door and slipped inside.

A few seconds later I heard a slow clop-clop-clop, like muffled wood blocks, then a sound like an animal snuffling right outside my door. A large, dark shape paused in front of the glass, then moved on.

A bead of sweat trickled down my neck.

Somewhere in the hallway, Mr. Brunner spoke. "Nothing," he murmured. "My nerves haven't been right since the winter solstice. "

"Mine neither," Grover said. "But I could have sworn . . . "

"Go back to the dorm," Mr. Brunner told him. "You've got a long day of exams tomorrow. "

"Don't remind me. "

The lights went out in Mr. Brunner's office.

I waited in the dark for what seemed like forever.

Finally, I slipped out into the hallway and made my way back up to the dorm.

Grover was lying on his bed, studying his Latin exam notes like he'd been there all night.

"Hey," he said, bleary-eyed. "You going to be ready for this test?"

I didn't answer.

"You look awful. " He frowned. "Is everything okay?"

"Just. . . tired. "

I turned so he couldn't read my expression, and started getting ready for bed.

I didn't understand what I'd heard downstairs. I wanted to believe I'd imagined the whole thing.

But one thing was clear: Grover and Mr. Brunner were talking about me behind my back. They thought I was in some kind of danger.

The next afternoon, as I was leaving the three-hour Latin exam, my eyes swimming with all the Greek and Roman names I'd misspelled, Mr. Brunner called me back inside.

For a moment, I was worried he'd found out about my eavesdropping the night before, but that didn't seem to be the problem.

"Percy," he said. "Don't be discouraged about leaving Yancy. It's . . . it's for the best. "

His tone was kind, but the words still embarrassed me. Even though he was speaking quietly, the other kids finishing the test could hear. Nancy Bobofit fucking smirked at me and made sarcastic little kissing motions with her lips.

I mumbled, "Okay, sir. "

"I mean . . . " Mr. Brunner wheeled his chair back and forth, like he wasn't sure what to say. "This isn't the right place for you. It was only a matter of time. "

My eyes stung.

Here was my favorite teacher, in front of the class, telling me I couldn't handle it. After saying he believed in me all year, now he was telling me I was destined to get kicked out.

"Right," I said, trembling.

"No, no," Mr. Brunner said. "Oh, confound it all. What I'm trying to say . . . you're not normal, Percy. That's nothing to be—"

"Thanks," I blurted. "Thanks a lot, sir, for fucking reminding me. "

"Percy—"

But I was already gone.

On the last day of the term, I shoved my clothes into my suitcase.

The other guys were joking around, talking about their vacation plans. One of them was going on a hiking trip to Switzerland. Another was cruising the Caribbean for a month. They were juvenile delinquents, like me, but they were rich juvenile delinquents. Their daddies were executives, or ambassadors, or celebrities. I was a nobody, from a family of fucking nobodies.

They asked me what Id be doing this summer and I told them I was going back to the city.

What I didn't tell them was that I'd have to get a summer job walking dogs or selling magazine subscriptions, and spend my free time worrying about where I'd go to school in the fall.

"Oh," one of the guys said. "That's cool. "

They went back to their conversation as if I'd never existed.

The only person I dreaded saying good-bye to was Grover, but as it turned out, I didn't have to. He'd booked a ticket to Manhattan on the same Greyhound as I had, so there we were, together again, heading into the city.

During the whole bus ride, Grover kept glancing nervously down the aisle, watching the other passengers. It occurred to me that he'd always acted nervous and fidgety when we left Yancy, as if he expected something bad to happen. Before, I'd always assumed he was worried about getting teased. But there was nobody to tease him on the Greyhound.

Finally I couldn't fucking stand it anymore.

I said, "Looking for Kindly Ones?"

Grover nearly jumped out of his seat. "Wha—what do you mean?"

I confessed about eavesdropping on him and Mr. Brunner the night before the exam.

Grover's eye twitched. "How much did you hear?"

"Oh . . . not much. What's the summer solstice dead-line?"

He winced. "Look, Percy . . . I was just worried for you, see? I mean, hallucinating about demon math teachers . . . "

"Grover—"

"And I was telling Mr. Brunner that maybe you were overstressed or something, because there was no such person as Mrs. Dodds, and . . . "

"Grover, you're a really, really bad fucking liar. "

His ears turned pink.

From his shirt pocket, he fished out a grubby business card. "Just take this, okay? In case you need me this summer."

The card was in fancy script, which was murder on my dyslexic eyes, but I finally made out something like:

Grover Underwood

Keeper

Half-Blood Hill

Long Island, New York

(800) 009-0009

"What's Half—"

"Don't say it aloud!" he yelped. "That's my, um . . . summer address. "

My heart sank. Grover had a fucking summer home. I'd never considered that his family might be as rich as the others at Yancy.

"Okay," I said glumly. "So, like, if I want to come visit your mansion. "

He nodded. "Or . . . or if you need me. "

"Why the fuck would I need you?"

It came out harsher than I meant it to.

Grover blushed right down to his Adams apple. "Look, Percy, the truth is, I—I kind of have to protect you. "

I stared at him.

All year long, I'd gotten in fights, keeping bullies away from him. I'd lost sleep worrying that he'd get beaten up next year without me. And here he was acting like he was the one who fucking defended me.

"Grover," I said, "what exactly are you protecting me from?"

There was a huge grinding noise under our feet. Black smoke poured from the dashboard and the whole bus filled with a smell like rotten eggs. The driver cursed and limped the Greyhound over to the side of the highway.

After a few minutes clanking around in the engine compartment, the driver announced that we'd all have to get off. Grover and I filed outside with everybody else.

We were on a stretch of country road—no place you'd notice if you didn't break down there. On our side of the highway was nothing but maple trees and litter from passing cars. On the other side, across four lanes of asphalt shimmering with afternoon heat, was an old-fashioned fruit stand.

The stuff on sale looked really fucking good: heaping boxes of bloodred cherries and apples, walnuts and apricots, jugs of cider in a claw-foot tub full of ice. There were no customers, just three old ladies sitting in rocking chairs in the shade of a maple tree, knitting the biggest pair of socks Id ever seen.

I mean these socks were the size of sweaters, but they were clearly socks. The lady on the right knitted one of them. The lady on the left knitted the other. The lady in the middle held an enormous basket of electric-blue yarn.

All three women looked ancient, with pale faces wrinkled like fruit leather, silver hair tied back in white bandannas, bony arms sticking out of bleached cotton dresses.

The weirdest thing was, they seemed to be looking right fucking at me.

I looked over at Grover to say something about this and saw that the blood had drained from his face. His nose was twitching.

"Grover?" I said. "Hey, man—"

"Tell me they're not looking at you. They are, aren't they?"

"Yeah. Weird, huh? You think those socks would fit me?"

"Not funny, Percy. Not funny at all. "

The old lady in the middle took out a huge pair of scissors—gold and silver, long-bladed, like shears. I heard Grover catch his breath.

"Were getting on the bus," he told me. "Come on. "

"What?" I said. "It's a thousand degrees in there. "

"Come on!" He pried open the door and climbed inside, but I stayed back.

Across the road, the old ladies were still watching me. The middle one cut the yarn, and I swear I could hear that snip across four lanes of traffic. Her two friends balled up the electric-blue socks, leaving me wondering who they could possibly be for—Sasquatch or Godzilla.

At the rear of the bus, the driver wrenched a big chunk of smoking metal out of the engine compartment. The bus shuddered, and the engine roared back to life.

The passengers cheered.

"Darn right!" yelled the driver. He slapped the bus with his hat. "Everybody back on board!"

Once we got going, I started feeling feverish, as if I'd caught the fucking flu.

Grover didn't look much better. He was shivering and his teeth were chattering.

"Grover?"

"Yeah?"

"What are you not fucking telling me?"

He dabbed his forehead with his shirt sleeve. "Percy, what did you see back at the fruit stand?"

"You mean the old ladies? What is it about them, man? They're not like . . . Mrs. Dodds, are they?"

His expression was hard to read, but I got the feeling that the fruit-stand ladies were something much, much worse than Mrs. Dodds. He said, "Just tell me what you saw. "

"The middle one took out her scissors, and she fucking cut the yarn. "

He closed his eyes and made a gesture with his fingers that might've been crossing himself, but it wasn't. It was something else, something almost—older.

He said, "You saw her snip the cord. "

"Yeah. So?" But even as I said it, I knew it was a big deal.

"This is not happening," Grover mumbled. He started chewing at his thumb. "I don't want this to be like the last time. "

"What last time?"

"Always sixth grade. They never get past sixth. "

"Grover," I said, because he was really starting to fucking scare me. "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Let me walk you home from the bus station. Promise me. "

This seemed like a strange request to me, but I promised he could.

"Is this like a superstition or something?" I asked.

No answer.

"Grover—that snipping of the yarn. Does that mean somebody is going to fucking die?"

He looked at me mournfully, like he was already picking the kind of flowers I'd like best on my coffin.

Fuck.

[knives-out20]

City Of Stars - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Swearing, Gay, Erik being genuinely happy,

Notes: Sorry I disappeared for a few weeks. Had a lower back injury thing that I won’t get into, and it led to me to not being able to go to school, sit down, etc, so I thought it best to take a break from writing until I got better. But now I’m back!! The song used is City Of Stars from La La Land- specifically the Hollywood Mix. No spellcheck, we die like men. Enjoy!

Karmel offered his hand to Erik, sunlight shining through the nearby window and into his dirty-blond hair. “May I have this dance?”

Erik scoffed, looking him up and down. “You may...but with what music?”

“You act like we’ve never danced in silence before, Ricky. If you’re that pissy about it, I could sing.” Karmel teased.

Erik took Karmel’s hand, pulling him a step closer. “That’d be lovely, actually.”

Karmel rolled his eyes, making the first move in their dance. “I call this one ‘City Of Stars’” he introduced. “City of stars, are you shining just for me? City of stars, there’s so much that I can’t see.” Karmel started, looking Erik in the eyes.

Erik quickly caught on. “By ‘city of stars’, you mean my eyes, don’t you, dear?”

“You’re no fun,” Karmel pouted, pushing Erik away with one hand, only to quickly pull him back in. “Who knows? I felt it from the first embrace that I shared with you,” he carried on, quickly pulling Erik in too close for comfort.

But close enough for Erik to place a gentle kiss on his neck.

Karmel closed his eyes, praising the moment for what it was before pulling away. “That now our dreams may finally come true,” he hummed, glancing out the window and over the direct view he had of Genosha. Karmel smiled softly, knowing that that lyric was more than true. Would he have liked his current status to have just a few altercations? Yes, definitely, no doubt about it- and Erik knows this, obviously. But Karmel’s the happiest he’s been in ages, and he feels that’s good enough for him.

“You’re thinking about it again, aren’t you?”

“About what?”

“You know what I mean, dove.”

Karmel’s lips formed a line in response. “I mean...yea, but- but it has nothing to do with you, so don’t even try to start on that shit.” He pointed at Erik, other hand cupping his lover’s cheek. Karmel’s thumb stroked the side of Erik’s face, in comfort. “I love where we’re at, right now, I really fuckin�� do. But you just...gotta give me a bit of time to adjust. I went from living like- like- like, you know how I lived, I don’t need t’explain again. To living on a remote, forest-y island. I went from Gatsby to General Zaroff, kinda, uh, basically. That’s a huge shift, compared to the multiple shifts I’ve gone through for the past few decades. You can’t really expect me to not be homesick of an old home, can you?”

Erik leaned into Karmel’s touch; he understood. “I suppose not.”

“E-Exactly, I’m a- I’m a bitchy kid, a privileged, rich, white guy who’s been handed everything and everything good on a silver platter since birth. I even had my shoes shined when I was a baby. I sound hella spoiled for missing that, so, like...I’m sorry.” Karmel shrugged.

“It’s alright, Karmel,” Erik whispered, taking Karmel’s hand in his own. “I’m just glad you’ve been enjoying this life so far.”

“I’m all over it.” Karmel agreed, that typical yet excited puppy-dog look on his face. “Anyway-” he cleared his throat, returning to the moment at hand. Slowly he began to dance with Erik once more. “City of stars, just one thing everybody wants,” Karmel chirped, pointing two fingers at Erik’s celestial eyes. “There in the bars, and through the smokescreen of the crowded restaurants. It’s love, yes, all we’re looking for is love from someone else,” he and Erik spun around the room, features softening down when they were in each others’ gaze.

Erik’s heart beat pitter-pattered down to a calm pace, being as he had the one thing that calmed him down, right here in his arms.

“A rush,” Karmel raised his eyebrows, “a glance,” he shyly glanced down, still not being able to handle Erik’s gaze for too long. Similarly to when he first met the man. “A touch,” Karmel’s fingers grazed Erik’s shoulder, followed by spinning Erik as he sang “a dance.”

“A look in somebody’s eyes, to light up the skies” Karmel looked up at the roof, which the sky hid, just above. He was sure that when Erik was born, a piece of the sky was taken, broken in half, and stored in his lovely eyes. Karmel wouldn’t take anything else for an answer; nothing else was a logical enough of an explanation to explain why Erik’s eyes were as ethereal as they were.

Deep, moody sometimes, clouded with the darkest of storm clouds when he was upset. But on the off-chance of Erik being in a good mood, his eyes showed it more than any feature on his body, Karmel knew this. They’d shine like the finest rhinestones, set perfectly into their sockets. One glance from Erik alone could tell a thousand stories that even the most articulate of authors could go out of business- in the same vein, Karmel feels that if he was to write about Erik’s eyes, it’d be a book series’ worth of run-on sentences. Erik’s eyes are one of his, if not than just his, most striking features. So very blue, that even the seas surrounding Genosha couldn’t compare, not in a million years or a billion universes. Erik’s eyes are more easy to get lost in than any maze or labyrinth imaginable, no matter how far and wide it could be. Erik’s eyes are the seventh wonder of the world, something to get prominently lost in the pages of history books. His eyes are something that should be seen by everyone, but Karmel rightfully wants the gift of seeing them all to himself. They give him such a high that weed has never given him, they’re his light, his map, his compass, he could make an altar for them and praise at it everyday, begging for salvation. 

Karmel clearly had a lot to say about Erik’s eyes. But to Erik’s face, he’d never say it. “To open the world and send it reeling. A voice that says ‘I’ll be here, and you’ll be alright’.”

“You’re the voice? Don’t deny it.” Erik muttered, shaking his head.

Karmel nodded proudly. ”I don’t care if I know, just where I will go, ‘cause all that I need’s this crazy feeling. A rat-tat-tat on my heart,” he crooned, tapping his finger on the left side of Erik’s chest, where his heart lay underneath. Karmel took Erik’s hand and dipped him smoothly, repeating his earlier chorus of this ballad about his beauty: Erik. “A glance,” he glanced away, “a dance.”

Erik pulled Karmel closely in his grip, never ever wanting to let go whenever he did. He’s had many opportunities in the past to be greedy about whatever he’s ever wanted, but he’s never been more greedy about anything except Karmel. This was something proven to be quite hard to do. 

Karmel’s from a long line of aristrocrats, the Rosenstein name being spoken of almost as much as any famous Tinseltown celebrity. Someone as rich and famous as a Rosenstein heir- especially one like Karmel- is hard to keep all to yourself. It’s like guarding a museum artifact, basically: sure, you have it protected in a glass case. But it’s a museum artifact, people are obviously going to look at it, talk about it, read about it, and know it exists. Erik is Karmel’s protective glass case, and the museum visitors are anybody in the world who know of the Rosenstein name.

In recent years, Erik know’s its been easier to be greedy over Karmel. Safe on their remote island filled with mutants, Grimm kicking it in the Rosenstein estate back on America’s mainland.

Karmel repeated the earlier verse following the first chorus, tapping Erik’s heart when that line came to once more. He sighed silently, exploring Erik’s facial features as if it’d be his last time to do so. “City of stars, are you shining just for me?” Karmel smiled expectantly. “City of stars...you never shined so brightly.”

Erik giggled, looking down for a moment.

Karmel’s and Erik’s dance slowed to a stop, their synchronized breaths filling the silence in the air. “Well?”

“Well...” Erik met Karmel’s eyes. “You really did waste your talent away in that library, Karmel.”

“Oh, come on!” Karmel exclaimed, playfully rolling his eyes. “Fuck off.”

“Karmel-” Erik laughed, kissing his nose. “The song was wonderful, Karmel.”

“Oh, so fuck the dance, huh?” Karmel joked.

“Karmel-”

“I’m joking” Karmel grinned. “I’m glad you like it...I love you.”

“I love you too, Karmel. ‘Til the end of time, remember?”

Karmel nodded obediently, spinning the ring on his left hand. “Even then, Erik, you’ll still be mine.”

[thestarkerisobvious]

The Thing That Lives Under The Bed -- The Conclusion

                                  The Kings of the East

                                    and the Kings of the West

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

In addition to realizing that he is in love with the thing that lives under his bed, Peter Parker and his friends have also discovered an underground library full of spellbooks, spirits calling out to be freed and the promise of any number of superpowers.

You may be wondering what they did next.

You are getting closer to the answer

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

Angel wasn’t strong, unless he wanted to be.  He wanted to be now.  He wanted to be strong enough to pull Peter down to the ground, to pull Peter’s body on top of his own, to wrap hungry arms around the older man, and that’s exactly what he did.  Soon he felt Peter’s weight upon his body and Peter’s hips pressing his ass into the hard ground… and he remembered.

Angel wrapped his arms around Peter’s head and kissed him hard, moaning.  He had been confused.  Had forgotten so much.  There was a flood of memories behind his eyelids now, memories of being in this man’s bed, memories of being in this man’s life.  The night before Peter had left for the African consulate, just like he had done on so many of Peter’s night-before-he-lefts,  he had slipped into the man’s childhood bedroom and begged for physical comfort.  Peter would usually give in and submit when Angel offered to go down on him (“I know you’re still hungry” he’d say with an indulgent smile) but that night Peter had actually made love to him, whispering tender endearments against his neck while moving inside him steadily.

“Do you feel me, baby?  Do I feel good inside you, my Angel?  Does my cock feel good inside you?”  Over and over again, whispering and questioning.  Angel was all hunger and desperation, but Peter was always as gentle as if it were their first time, no matter how many times they had done it.  Always asking how it felt, if it felt good, if he wanted it, if he wanted more.  Peter was saying all the things to Angel that he dreamed he would hear from his first lover, and hadn’t.

Angel wasn’t supposed to know that.  But Angel knew.

Even now Peter was equal parts fierce and tender, wrapping one strong arm tightly around Angel’s shoulders and using the other hand to lead Angel’s hand down to his cock, wrapping Angel’s slender fingers around it.  Angel’s fear melted away in that man’s arms.  Whatever else this night held for him, he knew what he meant to Peter.  Peter was a caring and generous lover, and whatever else happened tonight, Angel knew that the High-High Priest of the Coven of St. Cyprian loved him, and loved him with a unique and special passion.

Which is why Angel didn’t falter when Peter started pushing his hand away now.

“No,” he moaned when Angel reached for the string of his own worn-out sweatpants and tried to get them off.  He said it again when Angel started pleading.

“ No,” he said more fiercely, finally taking Angel’s wrist and slamming one hand to the ground in a move that took Angel’s breath away.  Still, Angel argued, panting.

“ Please Peter, I need it, I need you…”

“No, this is wrong.  I said no , Angel, I can’t keep doing this…”

“Please Peter, I love you, I need you inside me…”

“I can’t , Angel.  I make love to you if you’re going to disappear on me.  Then I’m left behind feeling shitty and I can’t take that anymore.”

“I won’t leave, I promise.”

“You’ve promised that before, kid,” he said, holding Angel’s wrist in place.  His eyes were stern, but his tone was gentle.  “And like an idiot I fall for it every time. You promised that the night before I left for the airport to leave for Kenya.  Then I came and when I woke up you were nowhere.  And there I was, left alone and feeling like a monster.  It hurts too much when you disappear on me, Angel.  I can’t explain to you how much it hurts.”

“Hold my hand,” Angel murmured, wriggling his wrist out from Peter’s grip and placing his fingers there instead.  “Hold my hand, and then I won’t disappear on you,” he panted hungrily, squeezing the larger hand in promise.  “Please, Peter, I need it,” he said, squirming beneath the larger man and pressing up against him shamelessly.  No, fearlessly . “You’re hard for me.  I can feel it. You want it too.”

Peter continued to protest, even as Angel squirmed out of his ragged sweats, even as he wrapped greedy legs around Peter’s waist.  Finally he tried to stop Angel’s constant pleading with a kiss, but that only led to more kissing, which, in turn, led to everything Angel wanted.

Angel was good at getting his way.  He remembered that now.

Peter was loving and tender as always, patiently working Angel open with mouth-wet fingers, moving inside him with gentle, steady strokes.  And, just like always, Angel was demanding and ravenous, demanding it faster, harder.  Demanding more .  And Peter gave in.  Maybe Peter was this way with his other lovers, loving and tender and always gentle,  and maybe those other lovers allowed him to be.  But Angel could make him lose control, and Angel reveled in this knowledge.

Peter Parker was an environmental lobbyist AND CEO of the Lavern Post Healing Center AND guru of an entire self-sustaining New-Age spiritual colony by day, a stalwart leader of a coven of skillful and dedicated wizards by night.  He was a wizard like none other, a self-taught master with multiple witchesmarks of great strength, all placed there by the demon he had summoned at 13.  He ruled over both three kingdoms with a steady hand, preaching a constant message of patience, restraint, forbearance, tolerance, long-term planning and, above all, self-control.

And all of that disappeared in Angel’s hungry arms.  In Angel’s arms, the feared and revered Mr. Parker was nothing but thrust and sweat and need .

Even now he was fighting for some control, Angel could tell.  With a devilish grin he raised one leg high enough to work his heels into the small of Peter’s back, laughing with delight when he made the man shuttered and moan.

“Don’t leave me,” Peter cried out helplessly, grabbing Angel’s hand again and pinning it to the ground, crushing it in his grip as he came.

“I won’t leave you master,” Angel whispered, pressing tiny kisses to his lover’s face over and over again.  He lay still as Peter relaxed on top of him, holding him tight.  “I’ll never leave you.  My sweet master.  Yours.  I belong to you.”  He looked up with a grin into the not-full moonlight.  “The spellbook doesn’t exist that can make me leave you.”

“Well, you did bring me the Das Buch Rothenburg …” Peter said with a breathless grin.  “But we stripped it down for parts and sold it to pay for John’s first college degree.

“Oh… fuck Angel…” Peter moaned, rolling onto his back and relaxing against the soft grass, letting the sweat dry from his body in the warm night air.  “Thank you,” he said tenderly, closing his eyes.  “Damn, I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”  He squeezed the hand he was still holding in his own.  “My angel.  God you’ll never understand how much I love you.  You’ve taught me things about myself I never even knew were there.  I’m a very lucky man, probably the luckiest man in the world.  And I’m damn lucky tonight. I needed that more than you’ll know…”

“That was… wait… what are you doing?”

Angel’s smile was blissful and peaceful.  He held Peter’s hand in both of his own.  Sometimes he brought it to his mouth to kiss it over and over again.  He giggled at the confused look on Peter’s face, and kissed it too.

“Angel,,” Peter said firmly, in his ‘I am commanding you now’ voice.    “Answer me … what are you doing?”

Angel looked down at himself, and the thing his master was looking at.  He had lost all of his clothes, and his pale, skinny body shone white in the moonlight.  At least from the waist up.  From the waist down, there was nothing to see.  He was wading in the ground, the same way the humans could wade in the water.  He giggled at the thought.

“I didn’t leave you, master.  You commanded me not to.  See how well I obeyed you.  But I still went into the ground…”  he giggled again in delight, wondering why he had never thought of it before.

“I didn’t even know you could do that… wait… are you putting your ass in the ground?  Does that mean… every time you went into the ground after I…”

“Your spend is inside me, master,” Angel said, kissing Peter’s face.  He kissed Peter’s eyes, knowing that if his master’s eyes were closed, he wouldn’t see Angel’s expression.

Peter didn’t like it when Angel rolled his eyes.

Still, it was very strange to him, how much his wise master didn’t know.

“Your spend gives me power.  But not like the witchesmark, not like the ambrosia.  It doesn’t feed in the same way, it goes away so fast.  But when I go into the ground, I keep it longer.  It stays inside me.  it makes me stronger .  The night before you left for the consulate, you gave me so much , master.  So much light.  So sweet and loving.  So powerful.  I went into the ground and I stayed there for so long.  To keep it with me.  To keep your light with me while you were gone.  I’m sorry I disobeyed you, master.  But it is my duty to get strong and stay strong.  I was only fulfilling my duty.”

“Jesus fucking Christ you Kings are going to be the death of me,” Peter moaned, letting go of Angel’s hand and using both hands to cover his face.  “I am nixing the idea of eight of you right here and now.  Não.  Nunca.  I don’t care how beautiful John’s new spell is, I’ll never survive it.  There’s only four of you now and I’m not sure I’ll survive.

“Do you… do you remember now, at least?  Do you remember who you are, what your job is?”

Angel looked down at himself, half-buried in the ground, and thought hard.  He only answered because his master was looking at him now.  He answered very carefully, trying to get it right.

“It’s my job... to stay here… to forget about the work that the others are doing.  To stay on the holy land and... feed.  To return to the ground every morning so… so the other three Kings won’t have to.  To return to the land so Oberon and Puck won’t feel homesick.  They aren’t supposed to come back here, but they do come back, because they know I’m lonely.  And it’s not my job to search through the spell books for the other Disciples, but they send me to do it so I can feel helpful.  It’s my job to... to not work.  To stay put.  To stay put and feed.  To feed on the seals of Evorá, to feed on the cattle.  To feed on Matty, but he won’t feed me anymore…”

“And he’s not going to.  I tried to explain this to you, Angel, but… I know it’s hard to understand.  Because it’s a human thing.  When Matt has sex with Tony… well it’s just more casual.  More friendly.  At least it is to Matty.  And what Athanásio and Demetrius do to us, well that’s different.  It’s more intimate, but it’s ceremonial.  But sex with you… you’re not doing anything wrong, Angel, it’s not what you do.  It’s just who you are.  You’re just way too…  intense.  You make Matty feel like he’s “cheating with this best friend’s girl” or something and that’s why he wants you to stop asking.  But you won’t stop asking.  That’s why he’s sharp with you all the time.  Besides you only do what you’re told when he raises his voice, which is weird by the way.  He said the closer we got to the ceremony the worse you got… baby come ‘mere…”

Peter wrapped his arms around what parts of Angel he could and drew him close.  Angel moved through the soil as if it were water, leaning on Peter’s shoulder like a child, snuggling into his arms with a contented smile.  

“God, I can’t believe you never explained to me why you were… that’s why you sink into the bed right after sex.  And all that time I felt like the world’s biggest asshole… nevermind.  Listen to me, Amado.   You knocked everything out of whack when you weren’t there for the ceremony.  Matty had to let Oberon and Puck join together without me, so Demetrius is already waiting for us back at the circle.  They wanted to send the black-and-white spirits out for you but I nixed that.  I was afraid that if you joined with Anton too soon you’d forget what went wrong and you wouldn’t be able to explain it to us.

“ Can you explain it?  Do you know what went wrong, baby?  You’ve never resisted the rejoining ceremony before.  Why is this time different?  Can you tell me?”

“You want to make me disappear,” Angel whispered.  He found tears filling his eyes again, much to his surprise.  He felt strong now, and yet his voice broke.  “I don’t want to disappear.  Please don’t make me join with Anton, master.  You love me .  You want to be with me.  I make you happy.  Why can’t I stay with you?”

“No!  No, that makes no sense , how can you…”

Angel felt the hot tears spilling across his cheeks as Peter pulled away.  He bowed his head, hiding his face under his black curls.  He knew he was in the wrong.  It was his place to serve Peter, not ask things of him.  He knew it wasn’t his place to be afraid or to…

Angel looked up, confused at Peter’s silence.  His master was staring at him now, mouth hanging open, looking startled.  Angel was startled as well, and stared back.

Finally Peter looked away.  He closed his mouth, shook his head hard, and stood up.

Silently he pulled his trousers back into place and fastened his belt.  He found his shoes and put them back on.  Then, after he had tucked his shirt back in, he sat cross legged on the ground in front of Angel, still wading waist-high in the earth.  He reached out and took Angel’s hand and spoke very gently.

“You’re right.  If you come back with me to the ceremony, you will disappear.  You will join with Anton to become Athanásio, and both you and Anton will disappear.”  Peter squeezed Angel’s hand firmly.  “And I never thought about it, before now.  Never thought about how it must make you feel.  But I understand why you’re afraid of it.”

He reached out and offered his other hand, asking for Angel’s other hand.  Angel gave it, lost in confusion at the expression on his master’s face.  How could his master understand fear ?  That was impossible.  Unless…

“...because I’m afraid of it too.  That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.  And it’s scary.  Disappearing.  Angel, it’s fucking terrifying.  It’s the scariest fucking thing I’ve ever done.  Testifying in front of Congress wasn’t as scary as what Shuri and T'Challa want me to do.”