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lilacmeadows · 4 years ago

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Made For You pt. 2

Omg you guys thank you so much for all the support! Part 1 was my first fic and you guys were so sweet. I had to get started on part 2 right away. If you want to be on my taglist, just let me know! This is just leading up to the next few chapters that’s just gonna be FILTHY. I needed a bit of backstory to be satisfied, but now that the boring part is out of the way, I’m gonna go research other names for genitals. Hope you enjoy! -Savvy

BUCKY X READER

Summary: Hydra had just finished training you to be the Winter Soldier’s perfect mate when the Avengers saved him. But what’s going to happen to you now that Hydra has deleted your old life and left you with nothing but a soldier that needs to learn to love himself before he can love someone else.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

WARNINGS: explicit sexual content, explicit language, underage reader (nothing sexual happens underage), stockholm syndrome, mentions of family death, eventual dom/sub dynamics, mentions of captivity and kidnapping. violence- guns, mutual pining, eventual smut, fluff, angst if you squint (must be 18+)

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

“Make the Soldat happy. He is my mission.”

When she was first taken, of course she was scared. She didn’t know why, where she was going, if she’d be rescued. It was a painful adjustment, and some days it was as if the tears would never stop. It’s not like she was worth anything to anyone who mattered, her family wasn’t rich. Just her mom and brother. They lived a happy and normal life.

She’d guess it didn’t really matter. At the age of 10, y/n was old enough to understand basic concepts, carry a conversation with adults, and she had strict teachers in school, so she knew how to behave.

What she didn’t know was how to be a wife. Or a ‘life-partner’. None of the Men would ever call her a future ‘wife’. She was training to be a mate. Someone the Soldat could own and connect with so he didn’t fly off the rails if things got out of control. If he got out of their control. Every morning, a watcher would wake her up at 8AM so she could stretch, eat, and meditate. By 10AM, her first trainer of the day would come in and teach her the schooling she was missing. Just basic math and reading, a little German, and a little Russian. Not enough for her to eavesdrop on their plans, but enough to understand her Soldat if he didn’t feel like speaking English.

At 1PM, another trainer would come and bring her to the small kitchenette down the hall. They had no intention of domesticating the ‘couple’, but she was learning to be a woman- of course the Men would have her start in the kitchen. She would learn very simple meals that could feed a fully grown man, and usually had something light for lunch herself. The men brought her the other 2 meals a day. At 3PM she would have lessons on ‘Womanhood’. At least that’s what she called it. A trainer would come in and teach her a never-ending list of rules that she had to follow in order to be a ‘lady’. It reminded her of an old Barbie movie she would watch when she was little. There was a song called ‘To Be a Princess’, where a poor girl learned how to act proper. Once she started seeing herself as that princess, the days got a little easier. Some days, they would go over how to sit and lie down like a lady. Others, they would walk laps around the halls open to her, reviewing how to walk on the balls of her feet. She learned to talk in short sentences with excellent manners, and how to brush her hair, so she could look more presentable for her Soldat.

Over the years of compliance, the trainers softened on her just as the watchers had. Of course, they were still horrible people, but they knew she was a kind girl at heart and wouldn’t cause trouble. Some days, she would be made to sit perfectly still with a stack of books on her head, while her trainer would tell her something silly happening outside the walls of the building that became her home. She learned little bits of information about their lives, music, art. But never anything political or having to do with who the Men even worked for. That was strictly forbidden. They would let her color in her free time. Sometimes a watcher would bring a book from his home for her to read, and when she was old enough, she was given a few colors of yarn and started knitting sweaters and scarves on plastic needles. She didn’t have a clock, but she would learn by the rotating shifts of her watchers what time of day it was.

There were children whose lives sucked more than hers. And for that, she was grateful.

When she got older (let’s say 18), the training started to change. She never knew what day it was, or even what year. She had stopped keeping track so long ago, but the changes were made gradually. She would be made to read books on intimacy, and then watch videos of men brutally ravishing ladies about her size. She had to learn what to do to please her Soldat, without being taught physically. This made her happy. The thought of any of the watchers or trainers doing that to her made her sick. And everyone thought it was in her best interest to be completely innocent to the touch of a man when she has her first encounter with the Soldat.

Which turned out exactly as planned. But on the day Steve and Sam plucked her out of her bedroom, she was not expecting the Soldat to be sitting right in front of her. In all his glory.

The quinjet was eerily silent for all of seven seconds before Clint had the audacity to continue the conversation he started.

“You make the soldier happy?” was the best the shocked man could come up with.

“I haven’t met him yet, but I’m ready. They made me ready for him.” y/n said with bright, hopeful eyes. Her words flowed so easily, they sounded rehearsed.

“Do we tell her?” Tony asked Steve, who was getting greener by the second. He couldn’t believe he just got his best friend back, not two weeks ago, and now he has to worry about a girl who’s obsessed with said best friend.

“I don’t think we really have a choice.” Steve replied, taking a deep breath. The whole quinjet looked like they were holding their breath. y/n still didn’t know the names of the three men on the opposite side of the quinjet. Two of them standing together, pausing their conversation, and the brooding man, who everyone keeps looking at.

“y/n, meet Bucky.” Steve said, pointing at the man across from her. But ‘Bucky’ went completely over her head- the name being unfamiliar to her.

“Hello, sir. Pleased to meet you.” She said, offering a genuine smile, but clearly not picking up what Steve was putting down. Clint chimed in again, wanting to be out of his confused misery.

“Wait a second. Y/n. You mean the soldier, as in the Winter Soldier?” Y/n immediately nodded at hearing that name. She knew her Soldat went by that name. “As in that guy right there?”

Her eyes went wide at the realization. He was sitting right in front of her. Staring at her since the minute she stepped onto the plane. And he was gorgeous. Long hair, thick thighs, piercing blue eyes, and a jaw that could probably cut glass. But he looked upset. Pissed really, and that scared her. She had one job: Make the Soldat happy. And there she was, barely presentable. She hadn’t even addressed him properly, how she was taught. With all the eyes on her, she felt a blush rush through her whole body at the embarrassing thought. But she had to. He wouldn’t like her if she didn’t follow the rules she grew up with.

Y/n daintily stood up and walked until she was right in front of Bucky. He held her eye contact the entire way, still not having said one word during this whole exchange. She gently knelt down until she was on her knees in front of him.

“I hope I can make you happy, my Soldat. I am a gift from the Men who take care of us, and I am entirely yours.” Bucky’s jaw twitched. He hadn’t said anything this whole time, but his mind was moving at lightning speed. He watched this gorgeous, barely dressed girl sit across from him, and was already in awe. But then that girl got on her knees and declared her loyalty to him? In front of everyone he knows? He couldn’t lie to himself, he’d never been more turned on. But everything about this was wrong. She was just a Stockholm Syndrome’d girl who wanted to follow orders. But her orders were to make him happy. He finally broke eye contact with her to see Tony’s shocked face looking over at Bruce and Thor, to make sure he’s not hallucinating this.

“Y/n, you should stand up.” He said to her in a hushed tone. Probably harsher than he meant to. He could see her visibly take a breath at the sound of his voice, his eyes followed the gentle slope of her neck down to her breast. She dreamed for years about what his voice would sound like, and it just rolled over her. But she quickly obeyed and stood in front of his seat. He expected her to say something else, but she was silent then. Her previous outburst was one of the few exceptions to her ‘only talk when spoken to’ rule. “What do you want? Where is your family so we can take you home?” He asked her. She could feel the tears well up in her eyes. He didn’t want her was all she could assume. She was made for him, so why was he turning her away?

“I want to make you happy, sir. It’s all I want. Please let me be good for you. I promise, I’ll be so good for you.” Begging was familiar to her from her studies. She didn’t expect to be begging for her to be able to please him, but she would do whatever it took to get him to keep her.

“No. Y/n. This isn’t right. You were being kept there, whatever Hydra told you to do is over. You’re free now.” The tears flowed freely down her cheeks and it broke his heart. She tried to cover her face with her hands. He didn’t want to see her cry, nor did he want to turn her away, but he also couldn’t just let her be his sex slave. It wasn’t right.

“Please don’t be sad. This is for the best-” He tried to reason with her, but when he took her hand off her face so she would look at him, the contact only made her sob harder. This was all she wanted.

“Buck, I think we should just let her sit for a minute. Can you grab her some water? Tony and I will try to figure out where she was from.” Steve said to Bucky- trying to end this painful and awkward situation. Bucky stood and walked to another area of the quinjet. He was grateful to be able to use this time to think.

“Y/n, we’re gonna need your help to get you home okay. What’s your last name? How old are you?”

“Y/L/N” And then she went quiet. It never occurred to her that she didn’t know how old she was. Of course, she remembered her birthday, but she couldn’t tell the weeks and months apart, so she hadn’t celebrated it since she turned 10 in 2006. “What year is it?”

“When did they take you?” Steve asked gently. Being a man from another time, he could remember well the day he woke up in 2011 when it was supposed to be 1944. He knew how jarring it was to discover all the time that’s been lost, and wanted to spare her that grief.

“2006. I was 10.” She looked at him, and she could tell it’s not just 2008 by the look on his face. She knew her body went through changes over her time with the Men, but between the ‘dietary supplements’ they gave her, and the fact that she wasn’t looking in a mirror- much less shopping for clothes- she didn’t realize she had fully completed puberty.

“Y/n, it’s 2016. You’re 20 now.” And that made the tears come harder. But she wasn’t so upset about the 10 years of her life. She was mad at 20 years of her life wasted. Since Bucky didn’t want her, all of the training was for nothing. She knew living for him made her the definition of a broken person- she wasn’t dumb. The idea of her Soldat was what grounded her all that time. When she was lonely, she’d think about the man the Men always tell her about. They told her how he was their ‘greatest asset’. And she often fantasized about if he would fall in love with her. So by the time she met him, she had already been in love with him for much longer than she’d care to admit- which makes the heartbreak of rejection hurt that much more.

Unfortunately for Bucky, his heart was heavy too. He tucked away into the tiny bed area on the jet after quickly handing Steve the water to give to y/n. It was too much. Being in that room with her, she looked at him like he hung the moon. But he most certainly had not. He was a murderer. Tony’s father was a scientist during the war, and Bucky knew him pretty well through Steve. And he killed him. He had scattered memories of hurting dozens of people, so why would she be so willing to be with someone like him?

Part of him wanted it. After almost a century of not owning anything and not having a choice, he was given the opportunity to have something that belonged only to him. A gift from the men who take care of us. If it wasn’t cruel, he would have laughed in her face. Maybe she was taken care of, but he most certainly wasn’t. She was brought in young enough to still be under the impression that Hydra wasn’t evil, just strict. He imagined for a minute how things could have turned out for the two of them if he hadn’t gotten free. If Hydra really was planning on giving him a gift. He didn’t like the last gift they gave him in the shape of an arm, but y/n was perfect. She was the perfect size for him- although his broad frame could dwarf most women. And her smile pulled at his heart.

He wanted to kiss her the minute he saw her. He knew he wanted to make her his.

And that was bad.

He rubbed his hand over his face and decided to rejoin the group in the middle of their conversation. Thor and Bruce decided to stop being passive members of the conversation and introduced themselves. Y/n was very confused at Thor’s proclamation as ‘God of Thunder’, but with all that was happening, she didn’t feel it was her place to question it.

“- a good thing we have spare rooms at the compound. You can stay as long as you like.” Tony finished speaking to y/n just as Bucky was walking into the room. “We’re gonna have a new house guest MC.” He waggled his eyebrows at the man who caught the back half of that conversation.

Bucky’s jaw dropped. This would only make the situation much harder than it needed to be. He looked to Steve for an explanation. The blond stood up and made his way over to Bucky.

“Look, Hydra scrubbed her records off of every database and-” He took a deep sigh, “Her family is dead, Buck. They probably killed them after they took her.”

Then it was Bucky’s turn to sigh. He knew the right thing to do was to help her, but he also knew how much he wanted to feel her soft skin in his hands. And that made her dangerous to be around.

What nobody knew was why Hydra took the 10 year old from Georgia. In 2006, the Winter Soldier was sent on a mission to kill a scientist that lived there. Of course the poor guy didn’t have a chance when the Soldier was sitting in his house, waiting for him when he got home, but what the Soldier wasn’t expecting was a little girl to be coming inside with him. The scientist looked sleazy and didn’t have any children, so who knows what would have happened to her if the Soldier didn’t get there in time. She screamed and cried. The comm in his ear commanded him to kill the girl for being a witness. But the part of the Soldier that was still Bucky wanted her to be safe. He shushed the little girl and asked her for her address. When she recited it to him, he rubbed her head and told her she was a good girl, before he dug his metal fingers into the child’s pressure points and she fell limp into his arms. y/n woke up in her bed, crying at the bad dream she must have had- her mother not even home yet. That was the first act of defiance Hydra ever experienced from the Winter Soldier. First sign of humanity and compassion. They knew if the mind control was getting weaker, he would be harder to control next time they unfroze him, but his protective nature of the girl would make her an asset to them.

Her capture was arranged before his heart was fully frozen in the chamber. Neither Bucky nor y/n remembered this- Bucky only remembering parts of his time under their control, and y/n never thinking about that bad dream again, but the connection was still there as strong as it was that day 10 years ago.

Part 3

#bucky #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #stucky #james buchanan bucky barnes #the avengers #steve rodgers smut #bucky imagine #bucky fanfic #dark!bucky barnes #dark!lee bodecker #lee bodecker smut #bucky fluff #chubby!bucky #winter soldier smut #winter solider x reader

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cristalconnors · 4 years ago

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TOP 20 SONGS OF 2020

20. “BELOW THE CLAVICLE”- EARTHEATER

“The meaning hasn’t come up yet. It’s still under the surface below the clavicle.”

It isn’t just Alexandra Drewchin’s ear splitting soprano when she hits that impossibly high B, practically shrieking out the “cle” syllable of clavicle, though that’s undoubtedly when I first knew that Eartheater’s avant folk was for me- it’s also the cinematic, lush strings, both bowed and plucked (is that acoustic guitar or harp? I genuinely can’t tell), deepening and complicating the sonic texture of Drewchin’s study of parsing through emotions you aren’t ready to make sense of yet.

19. “PUSSY TALK”- CITY GIRLS, FT. DOJA CAT

“This pussy so ghetto, this pussy speak ebonics”

“WAP”’s funnier, classless Irish twin, though it’s important to note “Pussy Talk” came first. Yung Miami and JT enlist Doja Cat to expound on everything their pussies deserve and will absolutely settle for nothing less than. And why should they when they’re spitting out verses this inspiredly hilarious with such confidence and flow?

18. “LICK IN HEAVEN”- JESSY LANZA

“Once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning...”

Jessy Lanza is talking about losing your cool, letting your emotions get the best of you and lashing out instead of letting cooler heads prevail, but when that earworm of a chorus hits- “once I’m spinning, I can’t stop spinning” - I can’t stop spinning. I’m that woman on the single art, a wine mom lost in the delirium of the dance floor and in Lanza’s hypnotic, fragmented rhythms.

17. “GASLIGHTER”- THE CHICKS

“Boy, you know exactly what you did on my boat!”

“Gaslighter” finds Natalie Ames and her Chicks at their most simultaneously ruthless and ebullient, ripping Ames’s ex-husband Adrian Pasdar a new asshole and ratcheting up the righteous anger of “Goodbye Earl” tenfold, channeling it into a glorious wall of sound in what might be their most rousing, emotionally resonant chorus in their storied career.

16. “HANNAH SUN”- LOMELDA

“Hannah do no harm...”

While “Hannah Sun” begins as an exquisitely observed rumination on grappling with long-distance, pining for someone who’s a continent away, it gradually becomes clear that Hannah Read blames herself for putting the distance between her and the subject of her longing, and that the distance isn’t strictly literal. Skittering synths (or is that distorted flute?) complicate and enrich the texture of the song, allowing it to build organically and stunningly towards a heartbreaking plea to herself- “Hannah, do no harm.”

15. “FIRE”- WAXAHATCHEE

“And when I turn back around will you drain me back out? Will you let me believe that I broke through?”

When I’d drive back and forth between Dallas and Austin over and over again when I was in college, I’d often get off I-35 past Waco and take the back roads through towns I’d never heard of, the sun setting spectacularly behind the titular hills of Hill Country that were beginning to roll out in earnest. I think about that a lot when listening to “Fire,” a song dripping in rural Americana that was, unsurprisingly, inspired by a road trip. We’ve probably all been Katie Crutchfield as she crossed the bridge into West Memphis- alone in the car, awed by the simple beauty of the American countryside, making speeches to ourselves about our past mistakes and figuring out a way forward.

14. “3AM”- HAIM

“On the screen and in my jeans, just make me feel good.”

On an album full of genre departures and decidedly darker themes than we’ve typically heard from Haim in their near decade of syncopated bubblegum pop rock, “3AM” stands out not only as their most effective stab at pastiche, slipping into the trappings of contemporary R&B with shocking ease and gusto, but also as their most unabashedly fun track in their entire oeuvre. “I think you can hear the amount of joy and laughs we had making this song” Alana Haim tells Apple Music, and you absolutely can.

13. “QADIR”- NICK HAKIM

“We’re sinking down a hole without thinking about our loved ones who might be shrinking...”

I often wonder if I’m putting enough effort into maintaining my relationships with friends I don’t see regularly, who live several time zones away, living their own lives while I live mine. When the thought of sustaining simple correspondence becomes overwhelming, it’s easy for months to go by before you realize you haven’t spoken to one of your closest friends. “QADIR” plays less like a eulogy for a friend gone too soon (though of course it is that) than a plea to the listener to put in the work. It’s worth it. You never know when it’ll be too late.

12. “LEVITATING”- DUA LIPA

“Glitter in the sky, glitter in our eyes shining just the way we are.”

Just a few bars of that delightfully bouncy, extra-terrestrial beat is enough to launch me into space. It’s so refreshing to hear a song that remembers that pop is supposed to be joyful and is best when it’s a bit silly. When discussing this track with Apple Music, Dua Lipa cites Austin Powers as inspiration, elaborating that “if I do a video for this, Mike Meyers has to be in it.” Can’t you just see them together, performing a farcical pas de deux of seduction like the spiritual successor to “Beautiful Stranger?”

11. “RIQUIQUI”- ARCA

“Love in the face of fear! Fear in the face of God!”

Arca’s made a career of harnessing chaos and somehow making sense of it. On an album that finds her embracing more traditional, accessible song structures, “Riquiqui” is a reminder that even when working within an AB structure, she’s still breaking rules left and right and having a blast doing it. She’s also never sounded so ferociously empowered in either her femininity or in her Venezuelan identity, rattling off local colloquialisms with affection and verve without a second thought as to who’s going to understand it.

10. “FANTASY”- AGAINST ALL LOGIC

“I think about you all the time...”

Or, the musical embodiment of this gif:

When Nicolas Jaar’s tormented synths and crunching beats give way to Beyoncé’s unmistakable alto, it is indeed quite the shock. But should it be? Even if 2017-2019 finds him ditching the dancefloor in favor of more severe, unforgiving soundscapes, his already varied career has shown us nothing’s off limits to him. So why not reinvent Beyoncé’s iconic “Baby Boy” into an industrial, vaguely sinister certified bop that arguably surpasses the original?

9. “PEOPLE, I’VE BEEN SAD”- CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

“If you disappear, then I’m disappearing, too.”

“People, I’ve been sad” plays out with the vulnerability and intimacy of a tumblr text post you put out in the middle of the night, only to hastily delete later when it gets no notes. It forgoes flowery language in favor of just getting to the point. “I’ve been sad.” Héloïse Adelaïde Letissier blows up this deceptively simple sentiment with richly layered textures and a big screen gloss not to offer any remedies but instead to offer solidarity. We’re all in this hell together.

8. “DESCRIBE”- PERFUME GENIUS

“Can you just find him for me?”

Mike Hadreas has never sounded so hopeless. Utilizing harsh, rattling guitar that would make Kevin Shields swoon, he conveys the experience of being so estranged from happiness and joy that you need to rely on others to describe the sensation to you. But how, when exploring darker textures than he ever has before, does he make despondency sound so divine?

7. “4 AMERICAN DOLLARS”- U.S. GIRLS

“No matter how much you get to have, you will still die and that’s the only thing.”

Meg Remy picks up where she left off on “4 American Dollars,” reviving the subversive pastiche she mastered on In a Poem Unlimited, this time harnessing the power of funk to dismantle the fallacies we’re taught about the virtues of capitalism. Heavy stuff, but Remy makes it less didactic than joyous, ensuring the listener will be singing “I don’t believe in pennies and nickels and dimes and dollars and pesos and pounds and rupees and yen and rubles” until they start to wonder if maybe they shouldn’t, either.

6. “STUPID LOVE”- LADY GAGA

“I freak out, I freak out, I freak out, I freak out!”

Due to a healthy spirit of contrarianism mixed with a touch of internalized homophobia and genuine bafflement at her universal appeal and praise, I was a proud Lady Gaga hater for as long as she’d been a cultural entity. I just didn’t get her at all and loved that about myself. Annoying, I know. 2020 was the year I was finally ready to let that all go. Just before the world fell apart in March, I was out at Flaming Saddles (RIP) with friends the night this song came out and by the sixteenth time it played, I understood why it was inducing such hysteria. This was a cultural shift. After a frustrating near-decade of Gaga subverting expectations so thoroughly that she was actively working against her strengths and sabotaging her cultural ubiquity in the process, coupled with the most frightening era of political upheaval in our lifetimes, she was finally ready to save us and be Lady Gaga again. Booming synth, drag sensibilities, absurd thematic conceits- all was right in the world. For the first time in a long time, people had something to be hopeful about, and as I danced that night, I felt that hope, too.

5. “SHELLFISH MADEMOISELLE”- RÓISÍN MURPHY

“How dare you sentence me to a lifetime without dancing?”

As soon as that bass starts (the funkiest bassline in the history of music?) it’s like Róisín Murphy’s snake charming oboe, coaxing even the most stalwart curmudgeon onto the dancefloor and keeping them there, dancing frantically and involuntarily like the citizens of Strasbourg in 1518, trying their best to keep up with Murphy who isn’t even breaking a sweat, commanding the masses with a sultry remove, beckoning you closer, pulling you inexorably deeper into the mass of gyrating bodies and whispering in your ear “come and have a dance with yer mum.”

4. “PARTY 4 U”- CHARLI XCX

“I only threw this party for you...”

As PC Music / Bubblegum Bass / whatever you want to call it enters its second decade, Charli XCX proves not only that there’s still new textures to explore within it, but also that no one can exploit its artifice to get down to emotional truths like she can. How can she make something this slick sound so vulnerable? “I only threw this party for you” she croons over and over again over glorious syncopated synths that build exquisitely, reaching their climax only to immediately fall away, until it’s just her and her trusty autotune, pleading with the subject of the song to just come to the damn party. But they won’t, of course. They never do, do they?

3. “WAP”- CARDI B, FT. MEGAN THEE STALLION

“I want you to touch that lil’ dangly thing that swing in the back of my throat!”

Sometimes you just immediately know you’re living through a significant cultural moment. No, not COVID. I’m talking about the experience of hearing Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s instant classic “WAP” for the first time, a titanic meeting of the minds that finds both of them at the apex of their cultural influence and at their most undeniable. Can the argument be made that these two aren’t the two best rappers in the game right now? How could you hear this inspiredly filthy sex positive juggernaut, where Cardi and Megan are trading the sickest verses of their careers, and not think these two deserve the world?

2. “KEROSENE!”- YVES TUMOR

“I can be your baby in real life, sugar. I can live in your dreams.”

If the 2010′s were all about the pop-ification of all music, trading in live instrumentation in favor of polished synths, 2020 forcefully announced the return of the electric guitar when Yves Tumor and Diana Gordon’s back and forth lustfully submissive declarations of desire suddenly gave way to that nasty guitar rip lifted from Uriah Heep’s “Weep in Silence” to announce yet another cultural shift in a year chock full of them- rock and roll was, indeed, here to stay.

1. “I WANT YOU TO LOVE ME”- FIONA APPLE

“I move with the trees in the breeze, I know that time is elastic.”

We live and we learn. Years spent soul searching and on self-discovery shape us into better, smarter people, progressively knowing and understanding ourselves and the world around us more and more clearly, but Fiona Apple knows that none of that can quell the ferocious desire to be loved by someone. By anyone. By you, whoever that is. We can know that time is elastic and that when we’re gone all our particles will disband and disperse and then we’ll be back in the pulse, and we can know that none of this stuff actually matters, but still- we want, we want, we want.

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athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit · 4 years ago

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Getting back at writing, is, well, hard. My grammar and vocabulary and basically everything is messed up so I apologize in advance for that. It's been, almost a year ever since my last written fic. That time I was still crazy with Kimetsu no Yaiba and the KyoTan ship. I'll post it some other time ^^.

Anyways, I present to you my attempt in making a plotted work from a random thought that came over me this morning.

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Basically none. Except for some curse words.

UD 01/10/21: Cleaned and revised some parts! Tried my best, hope it was enough.

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Of Ice and Blood

Part 1

Quick backstory and some details I left out in the main work.

It was in summer, 28th of July, when Pearl Blackbell turned 19. She left her home and moved closer to the university she’ll be going to. She rented an apartment about five blocks from the school. Albeit small, it was cozy and proper, having what she needed: a kitchen, a decent-sized bedroom, a small living area with a worn but comfy couch, and a bathroom.

When she was younger, her parents started training her in martial arts and the use self-defense weapons. They needed to make sure she knew how to protect herself against assaulters and dangerous people, she was after all, their only child and baby girl . They want their daughter to be strong, both inside and outside, by the time she sets out on her own and leaves home.

Her favorite self-defense weapon was brass knuckles, despite her parents’ protests. She enjoys punching nasty people and feel the crunch of their bones beneath her fists, especially racists, sexists, bullies, and the lot. The main reason why she got into detention multiple times.

Painting it with a ruddy color, she keeps it in her person, no matter where she goes. She has two, one is for extreme situations, while the other has only two knuckles. It stills maximizes the damage dealt but it is relatively less dangerous than the full dusters. The second one is usually a spare, though she rarely uses it.

She also occasionally carries a pair of retractable nunchucks, which she designed to be hidden within her regular baggy clothes. Her father had trained her vigorously with them and she even bested him in a match before she left for the city.

Selkoth, the city of marvels.

Distant sounds of buzzing cars reached my ears as I opened my eyes and blinked away the sleepiness, the light shining from the spaces in my curtains rather helping, together with the warmth it brought to my chilled tawny skin.

[Start of the actual work]

I fully woke up as I registered the sound of my phone alarm, shortly getting up to prepare when I realized what day it was.

Monday, the first day of my college life.

I stepped into the bathroom and took a quick shower, knowing I bathed thoroughly last night to save some time today.

Time management is key.

I dried myself down, turned to my closet and started putting on the outfit I picked out the night before.

Prioritizing comfortability over appearance, I wore my favorite orange cotton shirt, my blackish-blue hoodie (that had been stained with blood some time ago, but don’t worry, I know how to clean out blood. Mama raised no fool.) over it, together with a pair of black skinny jeans. And of course, tight black sports bra and boxers, even mentioning my underwear yes?

I looked over to my mirror and it was—

Simple. And I loved it. The more simple it is the better.

'“Keep a low profile over there, sweetie. Don’t get into fights when you can help it okay??? We already taught you and prepared you to the best of our abilities. Promise to us that you’ll stay safe, and healthy. Okay? And don’t forget to call sometime.”' I sighed, remembering my mother’s words.

"Yes mama, I will.”

With a smile, I did my hair and went for a tight Dutch braid, it going down between my shoulder blades and ending a little above my waist. I ran to my kitchen to eat breakfast, satisfied with my look.

I eat fast okay

Backpack, check. White sneakers, check. Phone and keys, check. Airpods on, playlist shuffled, I bolted out of my apartment and jogged all 50 blocks to school.

Exercise is always important, and what other way to utilize time for exercising than to do it while heading to your destination, right?

I snickered.

As I made my way to the university, I saw bizarre creatures and monsters of different sizes, coexisting, and interacting with humans. Even so, I noticed other people’s disdain and bitterness towards them when I passed by. My nose is awfully sensitive to scents that sometimes the ones their body releases tells me what they feel at the moment. It’s all science, I guess. I was made extra susceptible to these, so I wear a mask everywhere and every time I go out just to partly block most of the smells.

My first day at a university open to everyone across the country gets my blood pumping with excitement. To think that I’m going to study at Ernestine State University, the Ernestine State University!

I first heard about the uni back when I was a child. News broke out about Victor Ernestine, committing suicide by driving his car off a cliff because he couldn’t accept that his daughter was one of the major leaders who made the unity of all people, of all races, possible.

Dramatic.

Months after Mr. Ernestine died, all his properties and riches were passed down to her daughter, who took over as the new founder of the university and rebuilt it to accommodate everyone, no matter the size and shape.

The strictly all-human school, renovated, reshaped, and repurposed, was now the first university to open its gates to everyone in the country of Yundomia.

I’ve always yearned to get to know other species in this world. I didn’t get the chance previously because my parents sent me to an all-human, local high school. Which sucks. I hated how everyone had a certain hatred for the other races, especially orcs. They keep talking about how they are wild beasts and savages that aren’t meant to be in society.

They treated them like animals that are void of emotions and intelligence.

Come to think of it, I mostly fought with humans who were either racist, bullies, bastards trying to hit on me, or a mix of all of them together.

I chuckled, remembering how many times I got counseled on not punching people in the face.

High school was pure torture, being a human-exclusive campus making it worse, considering how everybody smells so horrible and the principal was an egoistic dumbass I was a hair away from gutting him. My poor nose.

But now I’m done with that! I’m starting anew in this school, in this city. Perhaps make some friends along the way.

Which is kinda problematic.

I’m not the social type. I tend to keep things to myself and hardly open up to anybody. I wanna make at least one friend that isn’t human! Or just, one good friend. I didn’t have or made any friends in the past since people tend to shun me out just because I can tell how they are feeling and find it creepy.

Or they’re afraid to get punched in the face.

Entering the campus gates was like stepping into another world. I was met with the sight of humans and monsters walking together and conversing! It was nice, and I don’t get to see this much often.

I walked around and took in the landscape of the campus. It was huge! And beautifully designed to have a great number of trees and plants, while also having space more than enough to accommodate every student going to their respective classrooms.

I was minding my own business and it was all serene, until some bastards pushed past through me and knocking me to the side. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I was gonna say something, but I shut my mouth. I didn’t want to cause any trouble on the first day for goodness’ sake. So I brushed it off and went straight to the gym for the orientation.

*************************************

The orientation was, intriguing. The dean seems nice, though I couldn't smell him from where I sat. There's also a student council made up of both humans and monsters which is a good sign. The student council president was a Minotaur with a dark brown coat and horns curving front and pointing up. The vice-president was a male student who looked decent enough. The secretary was an elf. The treasurer, a dwarf. And the rest were humans. I couldn't scent any of them to tell me what they were feeling at the moment, but the Minotaur looked uncomfortable, his hands behind his back, body going stiff when they were introduced to the freshmen. There was a larger numbr of humans than monsters, which was expected. I also noticed how both were grouped, a white line in the middle of the gym separating us from them.

Maybe to avoid any misunderstandings?

We were informed that today will be for introductions to your classmates and subject teachers so there will be no lessons at all. Hooray!

I was walking to my first classroom when a damned familiar smell attacked my nose. I stopped to stand for a moment and adjusted my mask. I looked around to spot the one emitting it and of course, saw a human. He looked, well, the typical playboy cool boy who used too much body spray on himself.

Not wanting to stand there like an idiot and prolong my suffering, I speed walk to my classroom and planned to sit at the back hoping no one would notice or ask why I’m wearing a mask.

That's always what they ask first. Not my name or how I was doing.

I expected to find no one inside since it was still early, but I was startled to see a massive orc sitting at the back looking out at the window. He was wearing a dark gray knitted sweater that was hugging his hulking frame very…well. Along with what looked like thick cargo pants and black boots.

He turned to look at me when I let out a small yelp, greeting me with his piercing, blue eyes.

Beautiful.

The orc had long, braided, jet-black locks. Two of them had distinct beads that trailed down from the side of his face and down to his chest, the rest of his hair behind him braided with intricacy and tied and ended halfway down his back.

I was pushed out of my trance when a person entered and crashed into me, swearing under my breath that it was intentional, nearly making me plant face-first on the trash bins if I hadn’t changed my footing at the last moment.

“Watch it, bitch, you’re gonna ruin my make-up,” she snapped.

Wow. She dared to call me that and not apologize like I’m the one who shoved her. Just wow. Usually at this point, I would have planted her face on the floor, but I stopped myself.

Low profile! Low profile Pearl! You’re in college now! You definitely don’t want to get suspended on the first fucking day of class now do you?? Keep it together.

Straightening up, I walked towards the back and sat beside the orc. Whose gaze fell on me, curious, when I wasn’t looking.

I made myself settled in my seat before the professor came in.

There were other races in my class. A blue tiefling sat three rows in front, wearing a casual outfit. A black-haired elf who looked and dressed clever, a row away. A cute pink pixie on my far right. A satyr wearing glasses, two seats in front of me, and a female lizardfolk a seat from of the pixie.

"Are you...alright?"

I almost jumped from my seat when the orc beside me spoke. I couldn’t help but admire how deep his voice was. I tried not to appear flustered, my mask helped with that.

“Uh…yes?”

The orc regarded me for a second before continuing.

“You were pushed earlier.”

Oh. He saw that?

“Oh, yeah, I’m okay.” I smiled at him. Then I remembered he can’t see my face. But I hoped the crinkling of my eyes gave it away.

“I’m Pearl, by the way.” I reached out my hand to him, socializing not my best suit but at least I tried.

He paused for a second before taking it into his bigger one, engulfing mine and shook it slowly. I was again, surprised by how gentle he was.

“Tai'chi.”

Interesting.

“Nice to meet you, Tai'chi.”

He lets go of my hand when the professor started talking up front.

“Nice to meet you too, Pearl."

***************************************

Thoughts? I am wide open for constructive criticism :D

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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coffeebeannate · 4 years ago

Photo

From This Prompt List

“If a person is destined to have a soulmate in this life, they will find that one of their eyes has changed colour, reflecting the colour of their anticipated soulmate.

For this to occur, the two must be in close proximity to one another (most studies say no less than several miles, but others claim that there have been some variations), and that, upon meeting, the eyes will revert to normal.

In some legendary, and notable cases, the eye colours will remain heterochromatic for the rest of their lives.

Of course, keep in mind that these stories are not always the same, and not every couple has a soulmate status. And that there is nothing less valid about non-soulmate couples.”

“Nicky?”

Nicky looked up, hastily closing the cover over his tablet, “Ah, sorry, can I help you?”

“The computers broken, again.” His co-worker sounds the most interesting combination of annoyed and sheepish, “Do we have to call tech support?”

“No, no, let me take a look, it’s alright.” Standing up from the desk, “The one we use for catalogue searching?”

“What else?”

He sighs, muttering curses under his breath, “Thing is about as good as a piece of scrap metal, at this point.” Resigning himself to an afternoon tinkering with the world’s most stubborn library resource computer. “It’s alright, go back to work, I’ll let you know if it decides to behave.”

“Thanks, Nicky, call me if you need help.”

“Yeah, yeah no problem” Facing the not-ancient but absolutely useless desktop, “You going to behave, or do we have to fight?”

Predictably, the computer blinks at him, Nicky sighs again and settles before it.

---

It isn’t that Nicky hates his life. Because he doesn’t, and despite what people might think, he’s fairly content. Working full-time as the head librarian might seem like an outdated job, but Nicky’s only 32, and he likes to argue that libraries are a vital part of society. Upgraded as they are, and some facets available entirely online. Besides, he had a degree in the stuff, and plenty of practice.

Andy might’ve had a series of interesting names for his life. His small apartment, three cats, more books and tech than is strictly necessary for a single man to have, and a car that is really a ridiculous thing, but it runs and he loves it and maybe the radio doesn’t work and it has no AC and the heater is also dying, but it’s a good car and he happens to find it charming.

He’s fine.

He’s dated, some one night stands, but nothing sticks.

“Are you reading that book again?” Andy asks, when she catches the soulmates book opened up on his tablet for what is definitely not the 10th, 12th, let’s not talk about it time.

“I think it’s comforting,” Nicky retorts, catching her look of disbelief.

“You know that in most cases, that shit’s a load of crap, yeah? Quynh and I have been married for eight years, no issue. She’s my soulmate, magical eyeballs aside.”

“I know I know..I just think it’s sweet.”

Nicky does not tell her that, for the last six or seven months he’s been glued to the damned thing. Everything feels antsy. He’s not an anxious man at all. His life has never felt empty, nor hollow. And yet, a few months back everything started feeling weird. Like he just couldn’t settle. Bee’s beneath his skin. Ghosting sensations across his scalp. Tingles.

He’d casually mentioned it during his yearly physical, but the doctor determined nothing out of sorts physically, and Nicky had been delaying calling a psychiatrist.

“Maybe you just need a change of scenery.” Andy suggested, stirring too much sugar into her coffee. ‘Maybe your library is finally getting to you.”

Nicky had declined to respond, but filed it away in the back of his mind regardless.

The morning that it happens, Nicky is running late, and doesn’t bother to look in a mirror much beyond ‘brushing teeth and running a comb over hair” before heading into work.

They’re finally upgrading the useless front computer, and he has to let the techs inside. Meaning he’s supposed to be at work an hour before he’d usually be, fiddling with his keys and muttering apologies as he opens the door fifteen minutes after he was supposed to let them in. Offering to buy them coffee for the troubles.

He’s that sort, after all.

He stands in the early morning crowd rush at the cafe yawning and buzzing, body thrumming with tension he can’t pinpoint, nor understand. It’s ridiculous and by the time he stumbles his way through the unfamiliar order, he feels much like he’s about to explode from it all.

The techs are thankful for their coffees, at least, Nicky tries to do some work in his office, and by the time he finally takes a break from his unsatisfactory work, it’s nearly noon.

There, in the libraries Men’s Room, is when he finally notices it.

His left eye isn’t grey, or green, or blue.

(Or whatever true colour his eyes seem to think they are)

It’s dark brown. So dark Nicky can barely see any other colour to it beyond pupil.

He blinks. Splashes water across his face, scrubs his cheeks.

It’s still there.

He takes a selfie with his camera, and stares.

Still there.

It’s still there after work, and the next day, and the Friday when he meets Andy for their usual after work time at the bar, Andy staring at him.

“So it’s not a contact?”

“No, I don’t wear contacts, or glasses! You know that.”

“You think your flowery soulmate shits legit then?”

“What else could it possibly be, Andy?”

Andy studies her beer, for once, she has no answer.

---

It is an extremely boring Wednesday morning when Nicky scrolls through his emails and finds something that bothers him for absolutely no reason at all.

It’s from one of the other departments, and it’s about the national art show being hosted at their oh so esteemed library. Nicky’s library is a popular venue because the building is historic and has a nice receiving room.

That’s not what bothers Nicky. He looks forward to this show. And it’s the first time he’d be in charge of much of it since becoming head librarian some eight months back, but no, it’s the shows headline artist that is prickling at him for yet again, reasons he can’t discern.

Nicky scrolls past the necessary details, but keeps going back to the beginning.

Headline Artist: Mixed Mediums. Classics with a Twist. Yusuf al-Kaysani

Nicky saves the email.

Again, no reason at all.

“Do you think it means anything?” He asks Andy and Quynh while four beers in and sitting on their couch.

“Some artist’s name you’ve never even met or heard of?” Quynh snorts, ‘Yep, definitely cracked some universal secret code there Nicky.”

He sighs, “Hand me another..”

Maybe they’re right.

Maybe he’s being ridiculous.

“Sorry, are you uh,,Nicky..Genova?”

Yes, okay, that does sound odd. But to his credit! He was named Nicolò thank you very much. His mother had made some comment about classics, traditions, blah blah.

“Yeah! Sorry just let me-”

He’s at the top of a ladder, fiddling with a birds nest, of all things. The outside of the library (again historic building) attracted plenty of them.

“Take your time, I don’t usually yell at people on ladders, on principle and all.”

The voice is nice.

It’s the dumbest thought Nicky has had in his head in months.

“Good practice, that.” Finally gasping the nest, starting to climb down the ladder, “Okay!” When he’s returned to solid ground.

“So, what can I do for-”

Nicky, quite elegantly, forgets how to think. Or breathe. Or do anything appropriately life sustaining like that.

The man before him, nice voice man, his brain helpfully supplies. is..gorgeous. And see, Nicky has SEEN gorgeous men and is nicely partial to them. But this man is gorgeous, attractive and, most distractingly, has one blue-grey-green who actually knows eye, and one dark brown one.

And! Nicky notices, has completely lost his own ability to speak. The two of them seem to amend this moments later by pointing at each other’s face mostly rudely, stunned and confused.

Nicky seems to find intelligent language first, but only manages to say, “..Are you Yusuf al-Kaysani?”

The equally stunned gorgeous man confirms this, and Nicky is quite sure he either faints, or dies.

(He does neither of these things, thank you very much)

“..It’s nice to meet you, Nicky.” Yusuf says, finding actual intelligence far before Nicky does. Nicky just swallows.

Their eyes never reverse to their birth states.

Not at the first date.

Not at the proposal.

Nor the engagement party.

Or the wedding.

10 years later, Andy remarks that ‘the most romantic bastard she knows’ would indeed, find an even MORE romantic sap, and that they’d have the perfect book romance.

Joe’s cleaning out the closet one evening when he finds a well-worn paper back version of the novel that Nicky had read endlessly on his tablet all those years ago.

“Hey babe, you never told me you had a paper copy of this.”

“Hmm?” Nicky pokes his head out of the bathroom, “I do? Oh, yeah, it’s a bit worn out.”

Joe flips open the cover of it, peering down into the slightly musty paper, reading aloud and finding his way to join Nicky at the vanity.

“Before reading this book, we must advise and remind that soulmates in this manner are rare, and that there is little scientific study to show a truth. Please do not fret if you never fall into this concept.”

Nicky hums, accepting the arm to his waist, the familiar kiss to his cheek, ghosting along the side of his lips.

“Go on,” Nicky says, casually.

“You know this story, my heart.” Joe chuckles, but continues.

“This rare phenomenon has been observed throughout history..”

#the old guard #kaysanova #au #soulmates au #prompt fic #prompt fics #fanfic #fic #nate does writing #oops this got longer than i anticipated #old guard au #nilefreemans #bi-leigh-bi

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rhosyn-du · 3 years ago

Text

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Two

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321 Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Two

They didn’t talk more about it later. Jace barely saw Simon at all over the following couple weeks, in fact. It’s not that he was intentionally avoiding Simon, but they both had final exams to study for, and Simon was wrapped up in guitar ensemble rehearsals for the winter concert on top of that. If Jace had spent a little more of his study time in the library than was strictly necessary and that just happened to prevent any further discussions of dispays of physical affection and practice dates, that was entirely beside the point.

What Jace hadn’t counted on was how unprepared he’d feel pulling up outside the Queen Anne style townhouse he’d called home for most of his childhood. He suddenly wished he’d let Simon talk him into driving together and using the drive as a last minute planning session, even if it meant they’d need to coordinate their trip back to Boston. As much as he’d been avoiding talking about their plan, it really only occurred to Jace on the drive how much he wished they actually had, you know, a plan.

“Wow,” Simon said, hopping out of the hand-painted van he’d parked right behind Jace’s car. “Is that an actual turret?”

“Yup, gotta love those late 19th century architectural fads,” Jace answered as he pulled his suitcase out of the trunk. “The house belonged to Maryse’s grandparents, and I’ve never been able to tell how much she actually likes the style and how much is just childhood nostalgia, but she hasn’t even changed much of the interior except for renovations and repairs.”

“I have a hard time imagining growing up in a place like this,” Simon said as he joined Jace with his own suitcase in hand. “And it’s not like my mom’s house is tiny or anything, but this is just...” He waved a hand vaguely at the house. “A lot.”

He didn’t ask why Jace was sharing a tiny apartment furnished entirely secondhand if his family lived in a house like this, and Jace didn’t offer an explanation.

“You don’t need to be nervous,” Jace said, even though there was plenty to be nervous about. “I promise the house doesn’t bite.”

“Yeah, less worried about the house than the people in it,” Simon told him.

“I thought you were, like, the parent whisperer,” Jace teased. “Isn’t that why you offered to come with me? Because you make a great boyfriend? Trust me, as long as Alec and Izzy think you make me happy, they’ll love you, and you know more about comics than anyone I’ve ever met, so Max will love you regardless.”

“Okay,” Simon said, releasing a heavy breath. “Okay, thanks. You’re right, I just got a little intimidated by the house, but this is all going to be fine.”

“Maryse is probably going to hate you, though,” Jace continued, keeping his face carefully deadpan. “She hates everyone we bring home. It’s like a rite of passage. But you’re great with parents, so I’m sure you’ll at least avoid intentional food poisoning.”

Simon stared at him in horror, and Jace couldn’t keep a hit of a smile from breaking through.

“I hate you,” Simon told him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Jace said, “I’m pretty sure the food poisoning wasn’t actually intentional.”

“Wait, there was actual food poisoning?”

“Come on,” Jace said, heading toward the door. “I want to get inside before we freeze to death.”

“You are such a dick sometimes,” Simon muttered, catching up to him.

Then, he slipped his free hand into Jace’s like it was a totally normal thing to do, and Jace had to catch himself from tripping over the steps.

“Careful,” Simon said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m not going to make a very good impression on your family if you fall and break your neck before we even get inside.”

And there was just nothing to say to that, to how uncomfortable it wasn’t to have Simon’s hand in his like this, to the way it made him want. So Jace simply rolled his eyes and pushed open the front door, letting the scent of home wrap around him like a warm blanket.

“Okay,” Simon said quietly as he surveyed the entryway, complete with antique chandelier. “Feeling a little intimidated again.” And it was so easy for Jace to just give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Hey, you made it,” a warm voice greeted them. “With as bad as traffic has been, we thought you’d be another hour at least.”

“Hey, man,” Jace said, dropping Simon’s hand so he could pull his brother into a hug. “People must be staying home for the holidays this year, because we barely hit any traffic at all.” He glanced around. “Where is everyone?”

“Iz should be here any minute, Max is holed up in his room playing video games with his friends, and Magnus is helping Mom with some last-minute grocery shopping for dinner tomorrow.” Alec held out a hand to Simon. “I’m Alec, since Jace apparently can’t be bothered to make introductions like a civilized person.”

“It’s okay,” Simon said, giving his hand a quick shake, “I gave up on the idea of Jace being civilized the first time I saw him eat pizza that had been sitting out on the counter for three days.”

“That was your pizza,” Jace pointed out.

“Yeah,” Simon said, “which I was going to throw away because I forgot about it for three days.”

“On the subject of uncivilized,” Jace said, turning back to Alec, who was looking just a little too pleased, “you really sent Magnus shopping with Maryse? Buddy, if you decided you don’t want to marry the guy, just break it off with him. You don’t have to throw him to the wolves like that.”

Alec’s tiny smile became a little less tiny and a whole lot softer. “Magnus and Mom have actually been getting along lately. She wanted his opinion on wine pairings, so they went to the store and left me here so I can pull the bread out of the oven when it’s done. It’s very weird, but also nice.”

“That does sound very weird,” Jace told him, “but I’m glad things are working out and Maryse has found some level of chill somewhere.”

“Hopefully that means I won’t get poisoned,” Simon said.

Alec snorted. “If you want to avoid it, you should probably avoid mentioning you know about that. Or any other embarrassing family stories Jace might have shared with you.”

“And don’t eat anything Izzy hands you,” Jace added. “Anything she cooks probably won’t kill you, but the taste will make you wish you were dead.”

“So, I should just fast while I’m here,” Simon said. “Good to know.”

Jace led Simon upstairs to drop off their bags while Alec checked on the bread.

“Just toss your bag anywhere,” Jace said, opening the door to his old room. “We can argue over who gets which side of the dresser later.”

“Sure,” Simon said cheerfully, “as long as we can be civil deciding who gets which side of the bed.” He stopped just inside the doorway. “Wow, okay. The apparently very small bed.”

And this really was something that should have occurred to him, Jace realized. It wasn’t that he hadn’t considered that he’d be sharing a bed with Simon. They’d even talked about it, briefly, and agreed it was no big deal. But Jace hadn’t considered exactly how much smaller his childhood bed was than the generous queen he slept in back home. It was technically large enough to fit two grown men, but only technically.

“Don’t worry,” Jace said, falling back on his trademark bravado, “I won’t get mad if you cuddle me in your sleep. I know you can’t help it if your subconscious recognizes that I’m irresistible.”

“I’m more worried about your freakishly sharp elbows,” Simon muttered.

“As long as you don’t snore or steal the covers, you won’t have to worry about my elbows,” Jace told him. He was planning to keep his elbows, and the rest of him, as far away from Simon as possible. Which, given the size of the bed, was maybe three inches.

“Dude, I do not snore,” Simon protested. “You know that; we live together.”

“You absolutely snore after your fourth drink.”

“I wasn’t planning to get drunk with your family,” Simon said, tossing his bag onto the bed.

“You say that now,” Jace said, leaving his own bag next to the door. “But wait until you get the full Lightwood Christmas experience before deciding you want to spend the whole thing sober.”

“If your family drives me to drink, you don’t get to blame me for snoring,” Simon countered. Which was probably fair, but Jace was saved from having to admit that by the sound of voices coming from downstairs.

“That’d be Izzy,” Jace said, “and we’d better get down there before she accuses me of trying to hide you from her.”

“Jace,” called a singsong voice, right on cue, “quit making out with your mystery hottie and get down here so we can actually meet him.”

“You should be careful making demands like that,” Jace called back. “What if I’m not wearing any pants?”

“We’ve all seen it. Get your ass down here “

“I like your sister already,” Simon told him.

“You say that now, but wait until she decides you count as family. She won’t be any better with you.” He took Simon’s hand. Because it helped sell their relationship. Because he could. Simon laced their fingers together, and Jace tried not to feel any way about that at all as he led Simon back down the stairs.

They only made it a couple steps before Simon came to a complete stop, almost causing Jace to trip the rest of the way down the staircase. He heard Simon mutter a soft ‘oh crap’ at the same time a bright, redheaded whirlwind came rushing up the stairs at them.

“Oh my god, Simon?” Clary grabbed Simon into a giant bearhug, effectively tearing his hand out of Jace’s. “You’re Jace’s mystery boyfriend? How did I not know about this? You didn’t even tell me you were dating anyone, you jerk! What happened to best friend gossip privileges?”

Clary pulled back from the hug, and now that Jace could actually see her face, he could see the hint of concern she was trying to hide under her wide smile.

“Clary. Hi,” Simon said, eyes wide. “I was going to tell you, I swear. It’s just, this is kind of new and so...” He trailed off, looking panicked. His eyes caught Jace’s. “But, uh, yeah. This is Jace. My boyfriend. Jace, this is my best friend, Clary Fray.”

“Yeah,” Jace said, looking between the two of them and feeling more than a little out of his depth. He’d planned for things to be weird, but not this weird. “We’ve met.” He flashed Clary a smile. “Fray, huh?”

She nodded. “I couldn’t keep his name. Not after...after everything. Fray is the name Mom used before she married Luke. It’s the name I remember her having when I was little, so.” She shrugged. “I filed the paperwork to have it legally changed the day I turned eighteen.”

“It suits you,” Jace told her, and let himself be pulled into a tight hug that he suspected was as much because she needed one as that she was glad to see him. Clary had never told him much about the biological father she barely knew, but she’d told him enough to know that Clary held him responsible for her mother’s death, even if the courts had cleared him of any wrongdoing.

“Thanks,” Clary whispered, before surreptitiously drying her eyes on his shoulder and pulling back to flash a smile that was less forced than Jace expected. “So, tell me how this happened without me hearing about it.” She bumped Jace with her shoulder. “And if it’s so new, what possessed you to subject Simon to your family holidays?”

“Hey,” Izzy said, walking up behind Clary and wrapping her arms around her girlfriend’s waist. Jace had to admit, they looked...well, right together. “That’s my family, too, you know.”

“Oh, I know,” Clary said, offering a soft grin over her shoulder. “And the fact that I’m here should tell you exactly how much I love you.”

“Fair,” Izzy said, then looked at Simon. “So, how’d my brother convince you to join this circus?”

“We made a trade,” Simon said, straight-faced. “I put up with his family for Christmas and he puts up with mine for my cousin Rachel’s wedding.” He leaned in and told Izzy in a stage whisper, “Also, I’m weak for his smile, but don’t tell him I said that, because he will abuse it.”

“You say that like I don’t already abuse it,” Jace said, sliding his arm around Simon’s waist in a mirror of Izzy and Clary’s pose. “And to answer your earlier question, us being officially together is new, but we’ve been sort of on the verge of dating for ages. Practically since we started sharing an apartment last year.”

Clary let out a peal of delighted laughter. “Oh, you’re the roommate. It makes sense now.” Before Jace could ask what made sense, she was pulling the both of them into a tight hug. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“If I’d known you were going to be this excited, I definitely would have mentioned it sooner,” Simon said, pulling back from the hug.

Jace tried to catch his eye, wondering what on earth was going on. He knew both Clary and Simon well enough to know he was missing something, but he had no idea what it was. Simon ignored him, and that just made Jace more suspicious.

“Come on,” Izzy said. “You can have your hug fest later. Right now, I want to help Alec get things set up in the kitchen and maybe surprise Mom by getting dinner started before she gets back.”

Jace and Clary exchanged a panicked look, and Jace frantically searched his mind for excuses to keep Izzy busy. He didn’t actually want a repeat of the food poisoning episode, after all.

“Actually,” Simon said, turning a bright smile on Izzy. “I was kind of hoping you’d be willing to show me your Lego Star Wars collection before we get too wrapped up in family stuff. Jace mentioned you have the deluxe Imperial Star Destroyer set from the early 2000’s, and I’ve never actually seen one in person.”

“Oh,” Izzy said, looking torn. “I’m not sure—”

“We can help Alec in the kitchen,” Clary said quickly. “You two go do your nerd thing. I knew this was inevitable when I finally introduced you two anyway. And this way I get the chance to harass my bestie’s new boyfriend without him in the way trying to keep me from learning the embarrassing details.”

“You know, on second thought—” Simon began, looking slightly panicked.

“Come on,” Izzy interrupted, smiling brightly and grabbing his hand.

Simon flashed Clary a betrayed look, then looked to Jace for support. Jace simply smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, love muffin,” he said mildly. “I’d never intentionally embarrass you.”

“I want you to know that I hate both of you,” Simon said before allowing Izzy to drag him back up the stairs.

“My collection is all still in my old room,” Izzy said. “Clary and I have been looking for an apartment big enough I can actually move the rest of my stuff out of here, but so far we haven’t found anything in our price range.”

Jace turned back to Clary. “Exactly what kind of embarrassing stories were you hoping for? Because I have many.”

Clary shook her head. “I’m pretty sure I’ve got more embarrassing Simon stories than you do. I’ve got almost two decades worth. But I was actually hoping to talk to you alone anyway, and this seems like the best chance we’re going to get.”

Jace followed her down the stairs and into the study. “Sounds serious. You planning to give me a shovel talk?”

Clary laughed, shaking her head. “No, I know you, remember? I’m not worried about you hurting Simon. Well,” she amended, “not any more than I am about him hurting you.” She met his eyes with a soft smile. “You might be the only person I know with a heart as big as Simon’s, as much as you try to hide it.”

Jace looked away. It had been two years since the last time he’d seen her, and she could still see right to the heart of him. He didn’t want to know what she’d see if she kept looking. “Clary—”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” she teased. “But I didn’t actually bring you out here to talk about Simon. I wanted to apologize.”

Jace frowned, looking back at her. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for.” He was more than a little grateful not to have Clary grilling him about his entirely fabricated relationship, but he wasn’t sure where this conversation was going.

“No, I do,” she insisted. “I promised to keep in touch when you moved away, and I didn’t.”

“It’s not a big deal,” Jace said, even if maybe it had been at first. Those first few months at school had been hard. Jace always thought he was used to being alone, especially after his mother’s suicide, but he found out just how much he’d come to rely on his new family when he didn’t see them every day. They’d kept in touch, of course, but with Izzy immersed in her studies and Alec all wrapped up in his new relationship with Magnus, it wasn’t anything like what it had been when they were all under one roof.

For a while, he and Clary had been in touch nearly every day, sometimes texting multiple times a day. Jace told her about his classes and how much he liked Boston, and Clary told him all about trying to narrow down which art schools she wanted to apply to. It was almost the same sort of easy friendship they’d had before he left, after they agreed they were better off as friends.

But after a couple months, Clary’s messages came less and less often, and eventually stopped altogether. Jace tried not to let it bother him, but he started drinking a bit too much and going to a few too many parties. Which was how he’d met Maia, his attempts at flirting somehow leading to him getting his ass handed to him at beer pong, and soon he found himself with an entire group of new friends. Although Maia insisted for almost a year that she and Jace were merely antagonistic acquaintances.

Clary gave him a look that told him she knew exactly how full of it he was. “It was a shitty thing to do, and I was a shitty friend,” she told him. “Especially because I did it on purpose. Izzy and I started getting close and I started to have feelings for her, and I didn’t know what to say to you about it. I didn’t know how to even talk to you about what was going on in my life without mentioning that she was becoming such a big part of it.”

“You didn’t actually have to hide it from me, you know,” Jace said. “I was surprised when Izzy first told me, but I’m mostly just glad you’re both happy. And seeing you together, I know you both are.”

“Thanks,” Clary said. “I didn’t want to hurt you or make things weird. For a while, I thought I could just ignore what I was feeling, but Iz is just... She’s not someone you can ignore, you know?”

“Oh, I know exactly how hard my sister is to ignore, believe me.” Jace stopped, considered, then admitted something he had never said—would never say—to another person. But this was Clary, and he knew she would never repeat it. And even if she did, he could always play it off as part of the act. “She and Simon have that in common. You know, I actually thought I hated him at first? He’s so enthusiastic about everything, and so sincere, and just.” He shrugged. “Not the kind of person I thought would ever do it for me.”

“But he won you over with his boyish charm?” Clary guessed.

“Mm,” Jace agreed. And the way he loved without reserve. Not just his family and friends, but his music, his favorite films, even the crappy nachos from the 7-11 down the block from their apartment. Simon loved every part of life, and being around him, Jace could almost imagine what that felt like. “Well, that and his abs.”

“Can’t forget those,” Clary laughed.

“Not with how often he eats breakfast shirtless,” Jace agreed. “Come on. If we aren’t in the kitchen by the time Izzy gets back downstairs, you know she’ll try to help Alec herself, and I was kind of hoping for dinner to be edible.”

~~~

Dinner was surprisingly painless. Maryse was more relaxed and happy than Jace had ever seen her, and he couldn’t help wondering how much of that was related to the very unsubtle smiles she kept exchanging with Clary’s stepfather. Even Max, who was deep in throes of preteen scorn, grudgingly admitted that Simon being in a band was “pretty cool” and joined in on some of Simon, Clary, and Izzy’s excited nerd talk that went entirely over Jace’s head.

After dinner, they retired to the living room for eggnog and carols. Jace limited himself to a single cup of Magnus’s infamous eggnog, knowing better than to let himself get drunk when he was putting on a show for his family. Or sharing his tiny bed with Simon.

As usual, Jace let himself get pushed over the piano to play. He felt something in him settle as soon as he rested his fingers on the keys of Maryse’s baby grand, the feel different and so much more familiar than the ancient keyboard he had back in Boston or the well-used uprights in the practice rooms at school.

When Jace had first come to live with the Lightwoods, he’d been afraid to touch the piano. His mother had put him in lessons as soon as he was old enough, but she hated to listen to him play and often chastised him for not being a better player, saying he should be better at it with how talented his father was. Now, he understood that it was just another manifestation of the combined grief and mental illness that led to Celine’s death, but at the time he’d hated how awful he was at playing, no matter how much he enjoyed doing it.

But Maryse knew he played and encouraged him to use her piano. She told him that it had been her father’s, and though she’d taken lessons herself as a child, she’d never really loved it the way he had. She said that the instrument deserved to be loved, and as long as Jace loved playing it, she didn’t care how good he was or wasn’t.

It was the first time he’d really felt like this could be his home.

“Okay,” Jace said after the third version of O Tannenbaum with ridiculous altered lyrics—this one courtesy of Simon rather than Max or Clary, about an ill-fated toad who chose the wrong moment to cross the street, “I think my fingers are done for the night.”

“Oh, come on,” Clary said. “Simon and I have at least a dozen more of these we came up with when we were kids.”

“When we were little, I only knew the lyrics to the Christmas songs they played on the radio, so Fray made up silly lyrics to the other ones and told me they were real,” Simon explained. “And it made her so happy that I went along with it even for the couple I did know.”

“There will be plenty of time for more singing tomorrow,” Maryse said. “But if I know this one,” she continued, smiling at Max, “we’re all going to be dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn for presents.”

“Mom,” Max whined, “I’m not a kid anymore. I know the presents will still be there whenever I get up.”

“I seem to remember someone who looked an awful lot like you waking us up before sunrise last year,” Magnus said with exaggerated confusion. “Perhaps you have a twin I haven’t met?”

Max fixed him with a withering look. “Last year, I was eleven. This year I’m twelve,” he said, as though that explained it.

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’ve grown out of it,” Alec told him. “Because I intend to sleep in. And if you try to get me out of bed early, I’ll remind you of this conversation.”

“Oh, no need for that, darling,” Magnus said cheerfully. “I’ll just barricade the door before we go to sleep so he can’t get to us.”

“Brilliant,” Alec said, giving Magnus a frankly sappy smile. “I knew there was a reason I loved you.”

“And on that note,” Jace said, “I think I’m going to head to bed before I die of sweetness overdose.”

“Oh, please,” Magnus said, giving him an unimpressed look. “We all saw you and Simon making eyes at each other over those cookies you were frosting earlier.”

“It’s true,” Izzy said before Jace could protest. “You don’t get to tease Alec about being a sap anymore, not now that we’ve all actually seen you with someone you love.”

Jace froze, his mouth half open, then quickly snapped it shut. It made sense that Izzy would assume. He’d brought Simon home for Christmas, after all. That was the story they were selling even if they hadn’t actually discussed it, even if it wasn’t something Jace had said or even implied. And whatever he did feel for Simon, it certainly wasn’t love. It was, at best, a friendly crush. A very intense friendly crush.

Izzy seemed to realize her mistake, glancing between him and Simon with a look of dawning panic.

“No, you’re misunderstanding how this works,” Simon said easily, because of course Izzy’s words hadn’t sent him into a panic the way they had Jace. “Jace gets to tease Alec, and you, and you both get to tease him back.”

“Yep,” Clary agreed. “Those are the rules, because that means I still get to tease Simon.”

“Please,” Izzy said. “Clary and I are too sophisticated to be sappy.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard you call Clary ‘cuddle bug’ earlier,” Alec said.

“And I definitely saw you laugh at that terrible joke she told at dinner,” Jace added.

“She ate one of the cookies you made,” Max accused.

“Yeah, sorry, cutie,” Clary said. “We’re really pretty sappy.”

“Fine,” Izzy huffed. “But I just think you’re all jealous because I’ve got the cutest girlfriend.”

“Yes, Izzy,” Alec said drily. “You’ve uncovered my secret. I’m extremely jealous of your girlfriend.”

“I knew it,” Izzy said smugly, as though Alec had been perfectly sincere.

“Definitely in danger of dying of sweetness overdose,” Jace said.

That set off another round of teasing, this time with Izzy throwing in not so subtle attempts to drag Maryse and Luke into it. Jace wasn’t sure why Izzy was so determined to make the two admit there was something between them. It was obvious there was just from the way they acted around each other. Maryse would tell them when she was ready, just like she had when she and Robert filed for divorce.

It was almost another hour before Jace finally made his way up the stairs toward his room. He was surprised when Simon rose to follow him, but didn’t say anything until they were back in his room.

“I’m surprised you didn’t stay to nerd out with Clary and Iz some more.”

“I get to talk to Clary all the time,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, it’ll be easier to keep up the whole fake boyfriend thing if I don’t let her get me alone. She’d definitely figure out something’s up if I let her start grilling me about our relationship. Also, you don’t get to call me a nerd when you know just as much about Star Wars as I do.”

“It’s impossible to grow up with Izzy and not know way too much about Star Wars,” Jace said, pulling off his shirt and tossing it over a chair. “Are you still sure about doing this? Neither of us counted on Clary, and I’ll understand if you want to back out.”

“Huh?” Simon said, sounding distracted. Jace turned to look at him and thought he detected the faintest flush on Simon’s cheeks when he met his eyes. “I mean, yeah, no, I’m not backing out.” He gave an uncomfortable shrug as he pulled a set of pajamas out of his suitcase. “The last thing I want is to have to explain this whole thing to Clary.”

“Good point,” Jace agreed, turning around to put on his own pajama bottoms. It was tempting to watch Simon change, but it was also a very bad idea. “I don’t want to think about what she’d have to say to both of us if she knew.”

There was a beat of silence before Simon asked, “So, do you, um, have a preferred side of the bed?”

Jace turned to look at him, only a little disappointed to find Simon fully dressed in his pajamas. As usual when someone asked a question he didn’t want to think about, Jace flashed a smirk. “In a bed this small, I usually just take up the whole thing.”

“Well, unless you want me on top of you, you should pick a side,” Simon said, unimpressed. “Because I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“I’ll take the left,” Jace said quickly, trying and mostly failing to avoid thinking about exactly how much he did want Simon on top of him. “I’m just gonna hit the bathroom real quick.”

Which was how Jace found himself locked in the tiny guest bathroom, lip caught between his teeth as he frantically tugged at his cock. He hadn’t planned on jerking off, but he couldn’t get Simon’s words out of his head, and he sure as hell wasn’t getting into bed with Simon half-hard, which was really the only other option.

He could picture it far too easily. Simon pressing him into that ridiculously tiny bed, hands gentle but firm, mouth just a little bit desperate.

He came to the thought of rutting up against those ridiculous abs.

By the time Jace cleaned himself up and returned to his room, Simon was nestled under the covers on the right side of the bed. Seeing him like that made something in Jace’s chest clench, and he flipped the light off just so he wouldn’t have to look anymore.

“‘Night,” Simon said as Jace slid into bed, taking care to stay entirely on his side.

“Don’t even think about snoring,” Jace answered.

He lay in the dark for a long time, staring into the darkness, listening to the sounds of the city that didn’t quite drown out the soft breathing of the man beside him. He tried not to think about how easy and relaxed the night had been, how perfect it would have been if only half of it weren’t a lie.

#shadowhunters #shmb2021 #jimon #jimon fic #jace wayland #simon lewis

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wingsofkpop · 4 years ago

Text

Hiraeth - I.VIII: These Paths We Walk

pairing(s): Hybrid!Im Jaebeom x Reader, Witch!Mark Tuan x Reader, Werewolf!Jackson Wang x Reader, Vampire!Park Jinyoung x Reader, Supernatural!Got7 x Reader

genre: Supernatural!AU, Dark Magic!AU, heavy Angst, light Fluff, eventual Smut

warnings: Mature language, mentions of death and murder, violence, gore and blood, some satanic themes, etc.

word count: 7,1k

synopsis: How far are you willing to go to find out the truth about Moon Dye Bay?…

chapter directory

Necromancy is a form of spiritual divination in which the executioner acts in the summoning of and communication with the lost souls of the dead. Its origins date back to the ancient Greeks, as the word necromancy is composed of Greek terms νεκρός (nekrós), "dead," and μαντεία (manteía), "divination." During the European Middle Ages, necromancy grew to be associated with black magic by traditional witches. As a result, its practice became strictly forbidden due to its disruption in the balance of nature. History recalls only one powerful witch ever held the ability to raise the dead at will—

“Still doing research for that special project?” Your mind snaps back to reality at the sudden inquiry. Tearing your gaze from the textbook, you look up to find none other than your favorite student in front of your desk. Hyunjin offers his usual crooked smile at your newfound attention and raises a questioning eyebrow.

You can’t help but roll your eyes before answering, “You know the point of a study period is to—I don’t know—study? Preferably by yourself?”

He snickers. “I have a question that requires your extensive mastery in the literary arts, Ms. (L/N).”

“I’m sure you do.” You release a heavy sigh, not bothering to voice your annoyance at the use of your surname. Instead, you deliver Hyunjin a shake of your head before gesturing his continuance with a wave of your hand.

“I’m a little confused by the ending of The Grapes of Wrath,” Hyunjin pauses, “okay—a lot confused. I mean, why would Rose of Sharon breastfeed a stranger she literally just met? It’s weird…”

You chuckle at his scrunched expression. “You’re right. It is pretty weird.”

“So why’d she do it?”

“Well, Rose of Sharon knew the stranger was starving to death,” You begin, leaning back in your chair to better hold Hyunjin’s gaze, “so you could say she wanted to give him a second chance.”

“But why? She doesn’t even know him.”

“Maybe not, but if you had the ability to save another person’s life—be it a stranger—wouldn’t you?”

“But even after all her and her family went through, I don’t understand how she was able to find it in herself to do that. Especially after the loss of her baby.”

“Humanity is a complicated, yet beautiful force, Hyunjin.” You hum gently, “Even among all the cruelty, hatred and hopelessness, it still manages to find a way to prevail—that ending is proof that against all odds, humanity will always win.”

“I never thought about it like that…” Hyunjin shakes his head in disbelief, “Thanks, (Y/N)...”

“It’s what I do, kiddo.”

While the student grows silent to scribble down his realizations, you take the time to skim over your own notes—or lack-there-of, that is.

After Youngjae agreed, albeit rather reluctantly, to assist you in your mission to return Jackson Wang to the land of the living, you spent the past few days cornering the bookstore and mausoleum’s supply of resources about raising the dead. But just your luck, every text thus far has proven to be less than helpful. According to the siphoner, necromancy is one of the more rare magical arts that is only practiced by specialized, powerful witches, which, unfortunately, also means there is limited access to such information. Neither you nor Youngjae have been able to find a spell or ritual that can guarantee Jackson’s resurrection without some kind of dire consequence.

Who knew magic could be so complicated?

“You know, you’ve been out for the past week…” You lift your head to meet Hyunjin’s gaze once again. “Is… Is everything okay? I don’t mean to pry, but it’s just so unlike you to miss any classes…”

The typical university student probably wouldn’t give a damn about a missing professor, much less an absent TA. Hyunjin’s visual apparent concern spreads warmth throughout your chest—you are powerless to hold back the small smile that stretches across your lips.

“A couple of my roommate’s friends disappeared out of the blue last week, so I just needed a few days to help her out.” You raise a playful eyebrow, “Don’t tell me you missed me?”

“What? No way.” Hyunjin scoffs, “Though I did have to use Sparknotes for the past few reading assignments and barely passed Wednesday's quiz—” You burst into laughter, reeling your companion into the same fit only seconds later. After a brief moment, Hyunjin manages to collect his composure and finish, “—I am glad everything is okay… and that you’re back.”

You nod with a smile. “I appreciate that.”

Aside from the daily meetings with Youngjae and nightly cry-piles with Sana, the past few days have proven to be quite uneventful. Jackson has not appeared in your bedroom since that first night, and true to your word, you haven’t told Mark about your quest for his revival. God knows what kind of Hell would break loose if that were to happen. You also haven’t visited the Prime residence since the day you caught Jaebeom with his drop dead—mind the pun—gorgeous vampire conquest. You’ve been meaning to call Jinyoung, but between your hours pilfering through useless research texts, comforting your distraught roommate and attempting to track down your M.I.A. best friend, you haven’t quite found the time.

And though you’d never admit it to anyone, you needed some time alone—to think.

A rather obnoxious bout of laughter tears you from your thoughts, which is quickly followed by a scold from Professor Park. In an attempt to find the source, you peer past Hyunjin’s form and the sea of other students to the very back of the classroom where a group of young girls are utilizing the period as social hour. Amongst the familiar faces sits a pretty female student you don’t quite recognize, having never encountered her around campus before.

And although you can barely see her, something about her demeanor seems… off.

“Hyunjin? Who’s that girl back there?”

Hyunjin turns to examine the subject of interest before returning with a shrug, “According to my sister, she’s some exchange student from Taiwan. I haven’t met her, but I think Yeji said her name is Tzuyu.”

“And she transferred here this week?”

He shakes his head. “Actually, today is the first day anyone has seen her.”

You go to inquire further, but the booming call of Professor Park announcing the end of class beats you to it. Hyunjin bids you one final thank you and a goodbye before sprinting off to meet his friends at the classroom exit. It is not until him, Professor Park and the remainder of the students are long out the door do you return to your research. However, the moment you manage to relocate your place, a sugary-sweet voice commands your attention once again:

“If I could bother you for a moment, Ms. (L/N), I need your help…”

“Of course.” You mask your annoyance with as genuine a smile as you can muster and turn your gaze to the student. “What can I do for…” Your smile immediately falters at the sight of the young woman from earlier in front of your desk—only in this instance, you can definitely recognize her…

It’s none other than Miss Aphrodisiac herself from the Project Estate.

She offers a radiant smile, but the feature seems less than friendly.

“Hello again, (Y/N). I don’t believe we properly met during our last meeting… I’m Tzuyu.”

“Yeah, um, I-I wasn’t expecting to see you in my class…” You chuckle nervously, cautiously sliding your notes inside your book before closing the cover. “What… What are you doing here exactly?”

“With how much the student body rants and raves about their newest teaching assistant, how could I pass up the opportunity to see you in action?” Tzuyu elegantly takes a seat on the edge of your desk before running her fingers through her flawless, auburn locks. Something about the dexterity of her fingers sends goosebumps budding across your skin. “Plus, it’s not everyday I meet one of Jaebeom’s… human companions.”

“It’s not like that.” You insist, “Jaebeom and I barely know each other—”

“Ah. Right.” She giggles, “You’re close with the other brother. My mistake.”

You bite your tongue, holding back the snide comment that would likely lead to the dismembering of your head from your body. Instead, you swallow what little remains of your pride, rise from your seat and ask stiffly, “You said you needed help with something?...”

“You’ve read Macbeth, haven’t you?” Filled with both anxiety and confusion, you watch as Tzuyu takes a pencil from the container of writing tools perched on the surface of your desk. She twirls the utensil between delicate fingertips, gazing at it as if it is the most interesting object on the planet. You don’t need your gut to remind you something is most definitely off with her behavior.

“There’s this one piece of advice that Lady Macbeth tells her husband before he goes off to commit murder: ‘Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under ‘t’... ” She pauses, “Tell me, Ms. (L/N)... What exactly could that mean?”

Your blood runs cold when she fixes her dark gaze on you. No longer interested in the pencil.

You bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to ground the frantic beating of your heart before it literally leaps from your chest and into the palms of your company. Out of instinct, you chance a quick glance at the door—you may not have a mug, but a nine-hundred page, hardcover book to the face might make a pretty good distraction.

“Hm, I suppose you’re more of an expert with prose.” Tzuyu says, lowering the pencil into her lap before hopping to her own feet. “Let’s try a bit of Frankenstein then…”

She begins to stalk toward you, her eyes still locked onto yours like a vice. Your body immediately shuffles backward, attempting to keep as much distance between yours forms as possible. You only get so far—your back meeting the surface of the wall behind you as Tzuyu centers herself a few mere inches away. You can feel her crisp breath on your face as she murmurs:

“‘I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, then I will indulge the other’...”

“What are you—”

Before you can finish your thought, a searing pain paints your vision white. The agony spreads through your veins like wildfire, stealing every ounce of oxygen from your lungs and rendering your knees weak. With a trembling hand, you’re able to save your form from buckling completely to the floor—but not before catching a glimpse of the same pencil impaled in the side of your waist.

“Poetry is much more tasteful, in my opinion.” Tzuyu sighs, licking the blood from her nails as she backs away. You want to say something—scream and call her a plethora of less than appropriate names—but your mind is literal mush between the shock and the excruciating pain. You collapse to the floor with a breathy gasp, cupping your bleeding side with your opposite hand.

The vampire saunters toward the exit. Just as she makes it to the doorway, she whirls around to throw one final innocent smile in your direction: “Do us both a favor and stay away from Jaebeom… I wouldn’t want to scar that pretty face.”

With that, she’s completely gone. If it weren’t for the pencil in your midriff and the blood seeping through your clothes, you would have thought you’d dreamt up the entire encounter.

“Shit…” You gasp, attempting to dislodge the wood from your flesh. It doesn’t budge, deeply embedded between what you assume to be your ribcage. A pained wheeze spills from your throat as you reach for your bag, paying little mind to the bloodied prints your fingers leave in the fabric. After numerous attempts and anguished movements, you manage to fish your cell phone from its pocket. Crimson smears across the screen as you pull up the first contact you can think of.

You really should have taken the rest of the week off.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

From his perch behind a tree, Jinyoung silently stalks the movement of a burly stag as it parades across the forest floor. The creature, unknowing of the predator that hunts from a far, approaches a wild berry bush and begins to feast off its bearings—unknowing that its end is fast approaching.

Jinyoung usually does not like to draw out these moments and would have killed the deer by now. Whether it is due to the absence of his physical strength or the tornado of thoughts tearing through his mind, he simply cannot bring himself to end the animal’s life just yet. There’s something so pure about watching the stag go about its existence, he realizes—he must allow its innocence to prevail a little while longer.

It’s been days since his recovery from the huntress’s attack, but he can still sense the weakness lingering in his bones. While Jaebeom’s blood chased away the fever of the wolf venom, it was not enough to regenerate his body to its full power. If he were to do so, he would need human blood… but that can never happen again. Not in this lifetime.

Animal blood keeps him mobile, and that is more than enough.

A loud snap of breaking branches returns Jinyoung to reality in time to watch the stag tear off into the trees. He makes no move to chase after it, not desiring to waste his strength. After one final glance to his escaped meal, Jinyoung turns and greets the approaching figure with a tight frown:

“I already told you, hyung. I have no interest in accompanying you on a hunt into town.”

“You know, it would be a hell of a lot easier than tracking down food out here…” Jaebeom snickers, “Not to mention, one human equals a dozen squirrels.”

“And as I said, I much prefer the squirrels.” Jinyoung meets Jaebeom’s gaze with a heavy sigh, “I am perfectly fine, hyung.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” Jaebeom shakes his head. “You need human blood.”

“What I need is to find a new fare.” Jinyoung pushes off of his perch to traipse deeper into the forest, but the appearance of a hand on his shoulders halts his pace. He allows Jaebeom to maneuver his form back against the trunk of a tree, welcoming the slight relief the support brings to his muscles. He makes sure to keep his expression blank to mask his instability. But like always, Jaebeom sees straight through him.

“You’re weak, Jinyoung…”

“Nothing a nice rabbit can’t fix.”

Jaebeom purses his lips. “You can’t deny it forever. At least try a blood bag—”

“Why did you give me your blood?” Jinyoung interrupts his companion’s lecture, peering at Jaebeom with unwavering, unblinking eyes. “I thought you wished to punish me?”

“I was going to—I mean, I wanted to…” Jinyoung watches Jaebeom very carefully, noting the frivolous nature of his typically cocky features and hidden message behind his gaze. If he knew any better, Jinyoung would actually believe there to be some shred of humanity left behind those dark irises.

“But you couldn’t.” He finishes.

“Don’t think it means you’re off the hook for working with Tuan.” Jaebeom huffs while taking a few paces backward. Jinyoung opens his mouth to respond, but the hybrid’s hushed murmur emerges instead, “(Y/N) came by last week… to see you.”

Jinyoung holds back a smile. “Did she now?... I suppose you told her about your change of heart then.”

Jaebeom remains silent.

“Jaebeom-hyung…” Jinyoung’s eyes flutter shut as an audible exhale blows past his lips, “You need to tell her.”

“It won’t change anything.” Jaebeom says with a frown, “She made it very clear that she already hates me.”

“(Y/N) is much different than others, hyung—”

“What do I care anyway?” The hybrid tsks, his sullen expression transitioning into one of indifference. “She can hate me as much as she wants. I don’t give a shit.”

“Hyung, please—”

The shrill ring of a cell phone introduces a bout of silence. Jinyoung has never been so annoyed by modern technology since now, grabbing his phone with a less than pleased sigh. He eyes Jaebeom while lifting the device to his ear, wordlessly communicating that the conversation is far from over.

“Hello?”

“Jinyoung?... H-Hey, it’s me.”

“(Y/N)?” Jinyoung’s annoyance completely dissipates at the sound of your quivering voice. He notices how Jaebeom also reacts to your audible presence through the stiffening of his broad shoulders. He shakes it off as unease from your previous encounter and focuses back onto you, “Are… you alright? You seem a bit stressed.”

“Yeah, you can c-call it that…” Your inhale picks up over the line, and Jinyoung cannot help but grow concerned by its unusual heaviness. “You are not going to believe the shitty day I’ve had.”

“What happened?”

“Well, the barista at my campus cafe accidentally made my usual decaf, my boss is seeking revenge for my time off through hundreds of ungraded essays… and I was stabbed… with a pencil.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows furrow. “I apologize, but I don’t think I understand…”

“Long story short, Jaebeom’s scary, yet incredibly sexy girlfriend paid me a visit and literally stabbed me with a fucking pencil—” Your explanation cuts out into a yelp, which is followed by an array of stuttered curses, “And it—shit—hurts like hell.”

“I’m on my way right now” Jinyoung, heart racing and head spinning, forces himself to his feet and hurries back toward the manor—Jaebeom hightailing close behind, having picked up the entire conversation.

Before Jinyoung can inquire more about your condition, Jaebeom snatches the phone from his grasp and lifts it to his own, “Where did she stab you?”

“Jaebeom?... My-My side… The pencil is wedged between my ribs, I can’t get it out…”

“Don’t worry about removing it. Just try to control the bleeding as best you can.” Jaebeom explains, “Jinyoung and I will be there soon.”

“Wait! Why are you—” Your voice cuts out as Jaebeom ends the call. Jinyoung notices the whiteness of the hybrid’s knuckles as he silently returns his phone. If it were any other situation, Jinyoung would have brought up their chat from earlier, but your wellbeing is on the line. He delivers his companion a dark glare. To his surprise though, Jaebeom’s expression mirrors that of pure, unadulterated anger.

Jinyoung pinches the bridge of his nose before releasing a sigh, “Do I even wish to know why your mistress attacked (Y/N)?”

“I’d like to know too,” Jaebeom scoffs, running a hand through his jet black locks, “considering I told her that (Y/N) was off limits.”

“You find out then.” Jinyoung hisses, “Or I will deal with her myself, and I won’t be as kind.”

“Oh, trust me.” Jinyoung can practically sense the murderous lust spilling from Jaebeom’s pitch black irises—far from the light of humanity. “Kindness is the last thing on my list right now, Jinyoungie.”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“—and then she just acts all innocent! As if she did absolutely nothing wrong! I mean, what kind of self-serving, sadistic bitch does she think she is—Mark? Are you there?”

“Huh?” Mark flutters his eyes open at the sound of his name. He blinks at his surroundings in confusion, still dazed from his abrupt wake-up call, before remembering his phone and the person currently speaking on the line:

“Mark? Don’t tell me I put you to sleep?”

“Nope, nope. I’m here.” Mark replies hurriedly, wiping the remnants of his nap from his eyes. “Luna’s a complete and total bitch, I got you.”

Lia sighs, “Yuna, Mark. Not Luna.”

With a silent yawn, he lifts his arms over his head and expels the kinks from his shoulders. Once his muscles are taunt and stretched, Mark releases a heavy exhale and murmurs, “I’m sorry, Lia. It’s just… been a long week.”

“I get it, Mark.” She hums softly, “But I wish you wouldn’t stress so much about this. Minho made his choice, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“I don’t believe that.” Mark rises from his chair before pacing across the room to the mausoleum’s lone window. He pulls the curtain aside, peering out at the vacant hills of the graveyard. “If he would just talk to me, then I’m sure we could figure something out.”

Hundreds of phone calls later, and he still hasn’t spoken with Minho since the night he claimed to be leaving the coven. No one has. Not even Jisung. And Mark can’t figure out what’s bothering him more: the fact that Minho won’t pick up his phone, or that you have been purposely avoiding him for the last week.

He’s trying to give both you and the young witch time—truly—but Mark can’t help but feel as if something is off.

“Minho needs to figure out what he wants himself.” He forces himself away from the window, receding across the room to lean against the lectern as Lia goes on, “You can’t be there to hold his hand every time he goes through one of his moods. It’s not good for him or for you.”

“What am I supposed to do then?”

“Nothing, Mark. You do nothing.”

Mark shakes his head, “You know I can’t do that.”

“Just give Minho some more time to get it together.” Lia says, “He’ll come around eventually.”

“I hope so.” Mark goes to grab his coffee mug from a nearby table, but accidentally knocks his elbow against the corner of the lectern. A mass of papers and books slide from its surface, crashing to the floor in a rather vocal descent. He releases a quiet curse, tucking his phone against his shoulder before lowering to the floor to begin tidying the mess.

…How long does he have to wait until you come around?

Lia continues to speak as he gathers the escaped pages, “Have you talked to Yugyeom lately? I heard that one of their wolves just up and disappeared.”

“Yeah. That kid, Changbin.” He says, “Gyeom thinks he probably took off after our fight with the huntress. Remind you of someone?”

“In this town? A lot of someones.”

Mark goes to respond, but the title of a particular document clears the thoughts from his mind. Pushing aside a couple other pages, he grabs the flimsy packet before raising it into better view. At first, Mark is confused, unsure why this type of reference would be out and about. But as he surveys the other fallen objects, his confusion gradually shifts to realization…

Then rage.

He doesn’t bother to look up as the door opens, nor does he spare the puzzled newcomer a glance. Still clutching the document, Mark rises to his feet and takes the phone from his shoulder with his free hand. He pays his companion no mind as he quietly murmurs:

“Do you mind if I call you later?”

“Not at all. Just try to think about what I said.”

Mark bids a final farewell to Lia before disconnecting the line. He takes a moment to drag a hand down his face before turning to a wide-eyed Youngjae. As soon as Mark raises the document into view, his expression immediately shifts to a panic.

“So…” Mark tilts his head with a tight frown, “You want to explain why the hell you’re looking up resurrection spells?...”

Youngjae shakes his head, “Hyung—”

“Explanation, Youngjae.” Mark watches the siphoner’s face shift through a rainbow of emotions. From terror, to anxiety, to dread, before finally settling on guilt. Keeping his gaze to the floor, Youngjae eventually delivers a shrug and whispers:

“...To try to bring Jackson back.”

Mark’s heart practically splits open.

He stares at the younger witch with incredulous eyes. “Are you fucking stupid, Youngjae!?”

“It looks bad, I know—” Youngjae hurries forward to stand in front of Mark and lifts his hand in good faith, “—but I’ve been doing a lot of research and experimenting with a couple spells and I really think that we can—”

“You aren’t thinking shit.” Mark spits, rounding toward the siphoner until their noses are a mere inch apart. “We don’t screw around with necromancy, Youngjae… It’s dark magic.”

“We just have to find the right spell! (Y/N) and I are searching—”

“(Y/N)? What does (Y/N) have to do with this?”

Youngjae immediately closes his mouth, his eyes growing glassy in the evening light.

It takes a second for the puzzle pieces to fit together—your inquiries about Jackson, Youngjae’s daily trips to the bookstore, your evasion—but once the realization hits, Mark feels his entire body go numb.

Youngjae rushes forward to grab Mark’s arm, “Hyung, I’m so, so sorry! (Y/N) thought it would be better not to tell you, so I just—”

Mark shrugs his hand away, refusing to meet Youngjae’s pleading gaze. “Get out.”

“Just let me explain—”

“Get the fuck out!” A loud crash echoes throughout the mausoleum as Mark flings his mug across the room, causing the object to meet the opposite wall before shattering to a million tiny pieces. Youngjae doesn’t persist, grabbing his bag and beelining straight out the door. Mark pushes the sounds of the younger’s sobs from his mind as he goes, unable to see past the anger boiling inside his body. But even against all the rage, a sense of sadness remains at the forefront of his mind.

His best friend betrayed him—again.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“You find and take care of (Y/N).” Jaebeom commands, slamming his car door shut with a little more force than necessary. Then again, he can’t seem to bring himself to care above the red-hot fury coursing through his veins like venom. He ignores the curious stares of a nearby group of female students and proceeds to move around the car, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

“And where exactly are you going?” Jaebeom bites back a glare as Jinyoung halts his movements. His entire body thrums, as if physically yearning for vengeance, but he masks his temper with a sharp inhale and a promise to release his frustrations out later.

He nods at his companion, “I’m going to do what I should have done before.”

Jinyoung merely stares at him for a moment, and Jaebeom can only hope he can’t see past the bloodlust in his gaze. Fortunately, Jinyoung doesn’t question him further. He releases Jaebeom’s shoulder and delivers one final nod before turning in the direction of what both can only assume is your classroom. Jaebeom allows himself a moment to watch Jinyoung—his noble brother—sprint off to save the day—to save you. Again.

Jaebeom swallows the bitterness accumulating in his chest and heads in his own direction. It won’t be hard to track her. He can already smell her Chanel perfume—she’s close by, he realizes.

She wants him to find her.

Sure enough, Jaebeom recognizes her silken auburn hair and Louis Vuitton coat beside a towering oak tree, staring down at her phone. He doesn’t bother to check if those students are still watching him and speeds over to his target’s perch. Even when he’s a mere few inches away, she continues to mindlessly scroll through her phone. Jaebeom’s anger grows when he notices the amused smirk etched across her pink lips.

“It’s about time you showed up.” Tzuyu says, “You know how much I hate to wait.”

“Give me one good reason not to rip your fucking head off right now.”

“Not even a ‘hello’?”

Jaebeom growls, “You think this is a game?”

“Perhaps.” She raises her calm gaze to his own before offering a sultry smile. “Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”

Her flirtations only add fuel to the outrage raging through his body. He speeds forward again, snatches her wrists and slams her smaller figure against the trunk of the tree behind them. Tzuyu winces at his aggressive movements, but Jaebeom feels no sympathy. Your trembling voice and pained breathing echoes in his ears like a siren, tempting him closer to the point of no return.

It would be so easy to plunge his hand into her chest, to squeeze her heart until it's nothing but bloody ash. Or maybe he should tear her limbs off one by one, make her suffer until she’s begging him to end her—

“You really do care about her, don’t you?” Jaebeom awakens from his imaginary rampage at the question. Her usual smirk is no longer along her face, but instead replaced with a thoughtful frown.

He growls, pressing her wrists further into the bark of the tree. “I told you to stay away from her. You said you wouldn’t touch her.”

“I never thought I’d see the day the big, bad hybrid, Im Jaebeom falls for a human.”

“Shut the fuck up.” His tone is quiet—murderous. “I’ll kill you.”

“No. You won’t.”

“Yes. I will.”

“No, Jaebeom.” She shakes her head with a sigh, “If you kill me, (Y/N) will never forgive you.”

As if she had taken a red hot iron and plunged it through his heart, Jaebeom lets go of the vampire and stumbles backward. He barely catches himself before he collapses to the ground, and even then, his legs feel like they’ll give out at any moment.

Tzuyu, still leaning against the tree, tilts her head with a hum, “She’s a good one, Beom. I feel it… that aura that carries around her.”

“Stop it—”

“And it’s because she’s good that she’ll never belong to you.” She murmurs, “But you already know that… don’t you?”

“You’re fucking sick.” Jaebeom hisses.

To his surprise, Tzuyu’s expression softens. “I’m sorry, Jaebeom.”

There’s too many emotions swirling through his mind. He can’t think—can’t breathe. His chest feels like it’s caving in on itself, and his hands won’t stop shaking. He can’t get your face out of his head—your beautiful eyes looking at him with such betrayal and hatred. It hurts. It hurts so much. Why won’t his hands stop fucking shaking? It’s too much. It’s all too much—

He can’t help it… He has to turn it off.

A switch flips inside of his soul, immediately locking out every ounce of pain. His lungs inhale each new breath smoothly, and his limbs remain as still as a cat. With a clear head, Jaebeom returns his eyes to Tzuyu, who is still gazing at him with such tenderness and understanding. For a moment, the warmth of her gaze reminds him of you.

Tzuyu cautiously takes a step forward, “Jaebeom…?”

“You’re right.” He nods, “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“What are you—ah!” Her inquiry elevates into a scream as Jaebeom whirls forward and sinks his teeth into her shoulder. His fangs plunge through the fabric of her expensive coat before piercing deep into her flesh. She attempts to struggle, but he is stronger… and the damage has already been done.

He pulls away, licking the blood from his lips as Tzuyu collapses to the ground. She clutches her wounded shoulder, staring up at him with eyes of betrayal, confusion and fright.

“You… You bit me.”

Jaebeom smirks, “I suggest you spend the next day or so wisely… it’s going to be your last.”

Tzuyu’s expression turns rabid. She scrambles to her feet before sneering at the hybrid, “The sooner you learn to accept your fate, Jaebeom, the sooner you’ll find peace—”

“Meh. Fate’s overrated.”

“Just remember this—” The vampire growls, “—after you turned me, you murdered the love of my life… at least I had the kindness to keep yours alive.”

He snickers, turning to leave. However, just before he takes a step, Jaebeom throws one final comment over his shoulder, “Thanks for all the sex.”

With that, Jaebeom smirks to himself and saunters off into the glow of the setting sun.

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

Jinyoung rushes down the hallway, careful not to speed for fear of running into a professor or student working after hours. The fragrance of your blood builds with each step, and he can’t help but grow more concerned with that knowledge. At the very least, he can still hear the faint beating of your heart.

He follows the scent past a couple corners and down another long corridor to a massive, dim lecture room. Fearing the worst, Jinyoung quickly steps through the doorway before immediately spotting your incapacitated form through the darkness propped up against the opposite wall. He doesn’t hesitate to speed across the room and kneel in front of you. You’re unconscious, he realizes, but breathing—that’s enough to lift the heavy weight from his chest.

“(Y/N)?” He calls gently, lifting his hands to cradle your face in his palms. “Come back to me, my dear… Please.”

“Jinyoung?...” He’s never been more grateful to hear the sound of his name until now. Your eyes flutter open and dart around the area before drowsily settling on Jinyoung. The vampire in question breathes a sigh of relief, caressing the apple of your cheek with his thumb.

“There you are.” He murmurs, “How do you feel?”

“Like I was stabbed…” You raise an eyebrow before peering down at the pencil protruding from your abdomen, “Well, would you look at that.”

Jinyoung holds back a smile at your sarcasm, appreciating that even wounded, you still manage to bear your usual fiery charm. His own eyes turn down to the object jabbed within your waist. He carefully analyzes the damage, determining the best possible solution to its extraction. As you said on the call, the pencil itself is trapped inside your ribcage. Jinyoung will have to be careful not to accidentally fracture your bones.

He bites the inside of his cheek before returning his attention back to you. “I need to remove it, but it’s going to be painful. Very painful.”

You roll your eyes, “It will also hurt a lot less when it’s out. I can handle it.”

“I know you can.”

Jinyoung keeps his gaze connected to yours as he wraps his fingers around the wood of the pencil, taking extra care not to brush against the swollen skin of the lesion. Your expression remains fatigued, yet indifferent during his preparation. He waits for your nod before he continues.

In order to prevent as much further damage and to make it as painless as possible, Jinyoung removes the pencil as quickly as he can. Your furrowed brow and teary eyes slice at his soul, but he doesn’t stop until the object is completely taken out. Once it's free, Jinyoung tosses the pencil into a nearby trash can, pulls the sweater from his body and utilizes the garment to cover your slightly bleeding wound. He ignores the crimson of your blood staining his fingers, instead lifting his clean arm to his mouth before biting down.

“What… are you doing?”

“My blood will heal you.” Jinyoung answers, offering forth his bloody wrist. “It’s how I saved you after your assault in the alleyway.”

“If I die with your blood in my system, won’t I become a vampire?”

“You aren’t going to die.”

You shake your head, pushing away his wrist. “Thanks for the offer, but I’d rather not risk anything.”

“At least allow me to bring you to the hospital then.” He insists, “You’ve lost quite enough blood for one day.”

Jinyoung curses at the mischievous smirk that spreads along your lips. “You have got to stop saving my life.”

“Stop putting yourself in danger, and there would be no need for me to.”

“Last I checked, I had no idea Vampire Victoria Secret was gonna show up and stab me with a fucking writing utensil.” You snort, gesturing over to your desk, “Grab my stuff before we go, please.”

Just as you requested, Jinyoung goes about gathering your laptop and assorted belongings before sliding them into your bag. One book, however, catches his attention. For a moment, he pauses to stare at the title, then flips open the cover. His mouth runs dry when he discovers numerous pages of notes in your handwriting.

Jinyoung closes the book before turning back to you, who is struggling to climb to your feet. He moves to help you, stabilizing your body against the wall while asking, “Why are you researching necromancy?”

“It’s a long story.” You inhale deeply, “But to keep it short… Youngjae and I are going to try to resurrect Jackson Wang.”

At the mention of the alpha werewolf, Jinyoung’s muscles grow stiff. He stares at your face, attempting to read the stars in your dreary irises. After what seems like a long moment of silence, he eventually speaks, albeit quietly, “You understand resurrecting someone from the dead is no simple task… Why would you even attempt such a thing?”

Your expression softens. “Because Jackson didn’t deserve to die, Jinyoung. The pack lost their leader—Mark lost his best friend.”

“Resurrection is a dangerous craft, (Y/N).”

“Not if we find the right spell.” You argue, throwing your bag over your shoulder with a sharp inhale. “I know it sounds bat-shit crazy, but I have to try, Jinyoung. For Jackson and for Mark.”

Jinyoung inhales a heavy gust, before releasing an even heavier breath. He curses himself at being so affected by the hope in your eyes. Your determination is too alluring—you are too alluring.

“I have a collection of grimoires kept by a coven of Dutch witches who specialized in necromancy back in the 15th century.” He finally says, “I will gift them to you as long as you grant me one request.”

Your eyes immediately brighten. “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

Jinyoung grabs your hands. “I want you to forgive my brother.”

“Jinyoung—“

“After you left, Jaebeom fed me his blood.” He explains, “He cured the werewolf venom, so I wouldn’t have to suffer.”

Your face first contorts to confusion, then to Jinyoung’s surprise, guilt. “He didn’t tell me…”

“As I told you, Jaebeom has a good heart.” His lips upturn into a sad smile, “He just… has difficulty revealing that side of himself to others.”

With that, Jinyoung carefully gathers your body into his arms. He manages to cover your soiled clothes with your jacket before heading for the door.

“It is your choice. I will give you the grimoires no matter what you decide.”

Jinyoung’s heart leaps when your head collapses against his chest, right over where his heart proceeds to race. Judging by your silence, he expects your mind to have descended into unconsciousness once more, but is pleasantly surprised when your slurred voice reaches his ears, “Hey, Jinyoung?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for saving me. Again.”

Jinyoung smiles, “It was my pleasure, (Y/N).”

☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☽ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾ ☾

“Such a fucking idiot!...” Youngjae hisses, stomping his way past gravestones and monuments through the light of the setting sun. Usually, he would stop to appreciate such a beautiful moment in nature, but his mind is too preoccupied with thoughts of remorse and anger.

Youngjae knew better than to keep something like this from Mark. His heart immediately drops when he thinks back to the older witch’s furious outburst—Youngjae hasn’t seen him that angry in a long time. Not since Jackson was alive.

He shakes the thought from mind. He should have never agreed to your idea in the first place. Jackson Wang is dead. And he can’t be brought back. End of story.

A faint murmur of voices awakens Youngjae from his self-loathing. He hadn’t realized how deep he has traveled into the forest until now, so deep that he’s very close to the shore of the bay. His curiosity expands when he notices a strange light emitting from behind a group of closely placed trees. Against his better judgement, Youngjae decides to investigate.

The nearer he approaches the site, the louder the voices grow. With a closer view, Youngjae can barely make out two figures conversing in front of a large bonfire. Due to the shadows of tree cover, he can’t recognize their faces, but something about their voices seems familiar to him…

“You’re sure this is going to work?”

“I’ve been planning this for years. There’s no way it won’t.”

“Doesn’t this spell need a crazy amount of power?”

“There will be a blood moon tomorrow night.” Youngjae watches as one of the figures retreats to the opposite side of the fire. If he is a bit closer, he might be able to catch a glimpse of his face. “I will have more than enough power to complete the transformation.”

“And it won’t kill me? The transformation?”

“You sound like you’re having second thoughts…”

“I’m not!” The second figure insists, “The Primes deserve to pay for what they’ve done.”

“And pay they will.” Youngjae’s blood runs cold as he finally gains sight of one of the figures. “The Primes and Mark Tuan.”

“Holy shit—” Youngjae moves to make a mad dash back through the forest, but just as he takes a step backwards, his foot catches a large divot in the earth. He crashes to the ground with a faint yelp, cursing the new ache in his ankle. Panic skyrockets through his veins at the sound of approaching footsteps. Even against the slight pain, Youngjae manages to force himself to his feet, ready to make a break for it, but a broad chest halts his movements.

Youngjae’s heart stops when he meets the gaze of Changbin, the temperamental omega from the werewolf pack.

He smirks, “Your mother ever tell you it’s rude to eavesdrop?”

Youngjae hisses, “Screw you.”

Changbin remains unbothered. “What should we do with him?”

“Well… we can’t have him warning anyone of our plans.” Minho comes into view, wearing a similar smirk to that of the werewolf. “And besides, he might turn out to be pretty useful to us.”

“Why are you doing this!?” Youngjae demands as Changbin shoves him back to the ground. “Are you that desperate for revenge that you’d actually kill Mark-hyung!?”

Minho shakes his head, “I’m not gonna kill him. That special gift is reserved for the Primes.” He chuckles, before lifting his shoulders in a shrug. “I’m just gonna take back what I rightfully deserve…”

Youngjae sneers at the witch, “You’re a fucking traitor! A sick, selfish—”

The siphoner immediately grows silent when Changbin lands a harsh hit against his cheek. At the heavy impact, Youngjae goes flying to the earth and doesn’t rise again.

Changbin glances at Minho, “You sure about all this?”

Minho only smirks.

“I’m dead sure.”

53 notes · View notes

siriusbunbryist · 4 years ago

Text

In defence of Abed x Annie.

Thanks to the magic of Netflix, I’ve rewatched Community at age 24, and still found Abed and Annie to have hit the heartstrings as much as I did when I was in high school watching the show for the first time.

But watching the series in its entirety just reinforces my thought that Abed and Annie had so much potential that was wasted, and it’s a shame that the writers planted all these seeds to only decide that perhaps this direction was not worth it / too risky / unfavoured by the audience. But I mean, Alison Brie herself (and I’m assuming Danny Pudi as well) endorsed them! Find here and here.

This was a pairing that with all the crumbs scattered throughout the show (I think we are all aware of these crumbs I speak of), could’ve easily played the “oh we’ve been secretly dating this whole time” trope during the last episode and it would’ve still made sense.

Naturally I did some scoping, and of course unsurprisingly the J.eff x Annie pairing takes the cake, while not a lot of love for Abed x Annie. So here are common points of contentions I see surrounding Abed and Annie, and my rationale on them.

Before I start, a note - I fully respect the J.eff x Annie ship and I don’t intend on starting a ship w.ar/debate. I understand where their support comes from! I just needed to vent because no one else in my social circle watches this show. No hate please.

1. Abed doesn’t see Annie romantically

I think on the contrary it’s been set up rather long ago that Abed at the very least is attracted to Annie.

Exhibit A: “What are you making” in Beginner Pottery

Exhibit B: “Flat B.utt and the one Abed wants to nail” in The Art of Discourse

This video basically explains it! The summary: Annie is Pierce’s favourite, Pierce constantly insults Britta, therefore Britta is flat b.utt.

Exhibit C: Not even trying to hide it in Accounting for Lawyers

But, a romantic interest has to be further built upon finding someone attractive right? There has to be intrigue to their character, such as

Exhibit D: “I can only connect to people through... movies” in English as a Second Language

youtube

It is pretty obvious here that Annie is a rare someone who has successfully broken the impartial screen that Abed filters everything through. Jeff saw it too which is why he said Annie was the ark of the covenant before Abed fell for her disney face. I can only imagine Abed to be quite struck with Annie’s infiltration.

A romantic interest should also share common interests, such as

Exhibit E: “Which makes Annie is my third favourite show” in Paranormal Parentage

I’ve said before that for Abed, a guy who lives life and communicates through comparing it with television and movies, it’s not unthinkable for him to be attracted to someone who genuinely watches his favourite shows and commits to roles during cosplay. And who, besides Troy, would fit this profile? Annie.

And finally, the biggest indicator of it all, we also see how Abed views the Jeff and Annie pairing in everyone’s favourite episode Remedial Chaos Theory. Keeping in mind that the timelines are rendered by Abed, out of all the timelines, J.eff and Annie only kis.sed when Abed left the room for pizza. As well, as conjured in Abed’s head, Evil Jeff and Evil Annie only existed as a couple in the Darkest Timeline. To me at least, it’s arguable that this alludes to Abed’s omniscient “director” standpoint that he may be the obstacle in the Jeff and Annie relationship - pointing towards him perhaps harbouring feelings for Annie.

2. Annie doesn’t see Abed romantically The general consensus on this point is that Annie is only attracted to Abed when he’s playing a character. I rather think that being attracted to someone, and being attracted to someone during role play, aren’t mutually exclusive. Let’s take a look at the different characters that Abed played.

Don Draper: serious, sophisticated, and smooth.

Han Solo: immature, flirty and a smarta.ss.

Batman: mysterious, complex, and brave.

Three different personas, yet Annie responded to all of them. Since the common denominator to all three is that they are played by Abed, I would like to offer a counterpoint that perhaps the attraction to Abed has always been there, it’s just emphasized when Abed plays a character. Who knows, role playing might even be Annie’s ki.nk. After all, during For a Few Paintballs More, it is shown that Annie is disappointed when Abed dropped the Han Solo persona after the battle ended.

Annie also loves big romantic gestures. Who’s better than doing that than Abed? Since the beginning, Abed has already been doing big romantic gestures of varying degrees for Annie. With this, it’s not ridiculous for Annie to see Abed as a romantic potential.

Exhibit F: Staying in a room for 26 hours in Social Psychology

Annie: You sat in a room for twenty-six straight hours. Didn’t that bother you? Abed: Yeah I was livid. Annie: Then why didn’t you leave? Abed: Because you asked me to stay and you said we were friends.

Exhibit G: Rescuing her from “captivity” and inviting her to move in in Remedial Chaos Theory and Studies in Modern Movement (even Troy was surprised at Abed’s invitation)

Exhibit H: Tearing down the Dreamatorium in Studies in Modern Movement

Annie: What about the Dreamatorium? Abed: Oh it's staying. The Dreamatorium is more important than any of us. But you're more important than our bedroom so we put the bunk bed in the blanket fort.

Bonus: Confirmed by Alison Brie

3. The show was about Jeff and Annie

Dan Harmon said that Community’s approach is that anything and any pairing is possible. We see this is as the series started with the classic “player vs smart snarky girl” trope with setting up Jeff and Britta as the main pairing. We also see Troy and Annie as the potential B couple in the show. The writers also threw Pierce and Shirley, Annie and Britta, Dean and Jeff, and even Chang and Britta in for a laugh.

And then the show subverted this all by introducing Jeff and Annie, and made Troy and Britta a couple, showing us that Community is a show that intends on breaking these classic sitcom stereotypes by experimenting with different pairings. Abed and Annie was no exception to this, as the writers often pair them up in different shenanigans and hint at possible grounds to explore*.

A few examples: Han and Leia in For a Few Paintballs More, Hector the Well Endowed and the Elf Maiden in Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, spy partners in Modern Espionage.

No doubt that the show dabbled in and out of Jeff and Annie throughout the series. However, to say that Jeff and Annie was the primary pairing in the series would mean overlooking Jeff and Britta. Especially when Jeff and Britta have the whole love-hate dynamic, three(?) marriage close-calls, and emotional snippets such as helping Jeff reunite with his father in Cooperative Escapism in Familial Relations.

Anyway, not to discredit Jeff and Annie, but knowing that the show explores the possibility of different pairings**, why write off Abed and Annie?

* Not to mention that the cop pairing in The Science of Illusion was originally written with Abed and Annie in mind! ** We also see a stray Abed and Britta during Horror Fiction in Seven Spooky Steps.

4. Annie is in love with Jeff To keep this short and shipper-goggle free, Annie has said on numerous occasions that she’s in love with the idea of Jeff, not Jeff himself. Specifically this scene in Virtual Systems Analysis:

Abed as Annie: "…We love Jeff…" Annie: "No we don’t, we’re just in love with the idea of being loved. And if we can teach a guy like Jeff to do it, we’ll never be unloved, so we keep running the same scenario over and over hoping for a different result."

And this scene in Conventions of Space and Time:

Annie: All right, I may have been play-acting that we were married, and then the staff thought you were cheating, and I had to save face. Jeff: Do I have to worry about this? Annie: No, I was just daydreaming. I mean, I've married you at least a half a dozen times. And Troy. And Zac Efron.

Not to mention that their conversation in the finale says it all.

Jeff: I don't wanna be fine. I wanna be 25 and heading out into the world. I wanna fall asleep on a beach and be able to walk the next day, or stay up all night on accident. I wanna wear a white t-shirt without looking like I forgot to get dressed.* I want to be terrified of AIDS, I want to have an opinion about those, boring a.ss Marvel movies. And I want those opinions to be of any concern to the people making them. Annie: Well I want to live in the same home for more than a year, order wine without feeling nervous, have a resume full of crazy mistakes instead of crazy lies. I want stories and wisdom, perspective. I wanna have so much behind me I'm not a sl.ave to what's in front of me, especially those flavourless unremarkable Marvel movies.

*Shipper-goggle on: Part of me thinks this is a reference to Abed, whose iconic style almost exclusively comprises T-shirts. What Jeff is saying is that he wishes he is 25 again with his future open before him, someone who compatible with Annie, but here he acknowledges that he isn’t, and lets her go in the end.

5. Abed and Annie wouldn’t work as a couple Another point I see is that Abed and Annie are strictly platonic and are more like brother and sister. On the basis that they have made out a couple times and are attracted to each other, I would disagree with the sibling statement.

Troy, in contrast to Abed, I think actually resembles a more sibling-like relationship with Annie. Although Troy and Annie have the strong friendship of Abed and Annie, when disregarding the high school crush stage of season 1, their storylines never dwelled further down an attraction path, nor was there any specific episode that was dedicated to a deep dive of vulnerabilities and confrontation between them. As a comparison, Troy and Britta had opportunities to explore these setups (Troy admitted to lying about his b.utt stuff story and Troy helped Britta face Blade) - an indication that Troy and Britta were heading into non-platonic territory. Jeff and Britta too, had several opportunities to confront their feelings (up till the very last season), a clear indication of a non-platonic relationship.

For Abed and Annie, what I think pulls their friendship towards actual love interest potential is best pinpointed to Virtual Systems Analysis. Annie’s participation in the Dreamatorium prompted her to not only fully submerge into the way Abed thinks and comprehends his surroundings, but she also got to understand and address Abed’s stubbornness and flaws in a vulnerable way, confronting some of her own flaws as well.

Abed as Shirley: Your hospital school, young lady, is a simulation being run through a filter of other people's needs. Abed's been filtered out because nobody needs him. Annie: I need him!

And to point out this little tidbit in VCR Maintenance and Educational Publishing,

Annie: That's why Abed is like a brother to me. You guys are so alike. Abed: I can't accept that based on one time machine story.

This whole episode, instead of establishing Abed is like Annie’s brother, I would argue is rather doing the opposite. Abed and Annie’s hyper antics in the episode were basically matched by Anthony and Rachel’s blatant indifference and confusion. For lots of Abed and Annie supporters, this episode was a major setback. But I think it instead highlights how in-sync they are with each other, which is a good thing.

Another point, despite Annie trying to prove otherwise, Abed and Anthony had different vibes, and each shared different dynamics with Annie. And as Anthony pointed out in the end, who were Abed and Annie trying to replace in the apartment? Troy. The person who they are trying to fill is Troy - their roommate, their brother, their best friend. Troy was the brother role that neither Abed and Annie can fill for each other.

In Basic Sandwich, we get this exchange:

Abed: The point is, this show, Annie, it isn't just their show. This is our show, and it's not over. And the sooner we find that treasure, the faster the Jeff-Britta pilot falls apart. Annie: Got it. Thank you, Abed. Abed: You're welcome. I have a girlfriend. Annie: What? Abed: You were about to start a kiss lean. Annie: I was not.

Not only did Abed saw right through Annie’s anxiety and comforted her in his own uniquely Abed way, but he also felt the need to remind her of his girlfriend. The fact that he broke the fourth wall here is likely the writers’ way to be meta, but simply acknowledging the tension and bond there says a lot in between the lines. If tension does not exist, there would be no need for this line.

Besides, instead of thinking that they’re strictly platonic (which of course is also okay), they would rather work great as a couple. In terms of opposites attract, Annie grounds Abed with just the right amount, while Abed clearly encourages Annie to be her true self and be immature. Such as this scene in Foosball and Nocturnal Vigilantism,

Annie: I’m following him. Troy: You moving in here was supposed to tone us down!

Annie also doesn’t just tolerate Abed’s idiosyncrasies, she actually likes them and fully participates as multiple paintball games and cosplays would tell us. Special shoutout to the missing lovers footage in Wedding Videography, which through Britta, actually shows us that Annie is the only one who would go along with Abed’s projects - while Britta found the project extremely weird and unhealthy, Annie thought it was fun and commits well to her role.

And while others may tiptoe around Abed, Annie isn’t afraid to call Abed out when he’s out of line and makes a point to teach him about empathy in Virtual Systems Analysis. Remember that Britta tried teaching him this but it didn’t work as well.

I am Abed Nadir... And I don't know a lot of things everyone else knows. I wander the universe with my friend, Troy, doing whatever I want. Sometimes accidentally hurting innocent unremarkables. This week, however, Troy went to lunch and I adapted. I now have the ability to enter the minds of others using an elusive new technique known as "empathy".

As well as in the entire episode of Cooperative Polygraphy.

They also know each other best. Abed knew her cushion preferences, was the one who spelled out her true pas.sion for forensics, and after living together, Annie knew how to navigate Abed’s peculiarities and to soothe him whenever he had a nervous breakdown.

Annie also knows him so well that she can predict his reaction.

They are also each other’s exception. Annie was always the one who manages to pull Abed out of a trance and back to reality, usually with touch.

Abed is also very forgiving with her. An example is when Annie seemingly lost all common sense because she broke Abed’s special edition dvd in Foosball and Nocturnal Vigilantism.

Annie: Well, Batman, on behalf of all of us that aren't perfect, can I just say I'm sorry I broke your DVD? Abed: Apology accepted. But I wouldn't mention it to Abed. That guy's pretty ruthless. And that's coming from Batman.

And in Abed’s Uncontrollable Christmas, Annie was the only claymation doll that didn’t have a weird form (except Troy as toy soldier of course). Annie was a ballerina because Abed sees her as a creature of grace. Abed was also the first one who got her “brighter tomorrow” diorama and responded with enthusiasm.

They are also in the same stage in life. As Dan Harmon explains the choice of Abed and Annie being the ones who leave the group, with Troy gone, Abed and Annie symbolize the many possibilities of the future - a possibility that makes them viable. I like to think Annie transfers to the LA FBI office after her internship and they reunite.

And as the Spice Girls said, “if you wanna be my love.r, you gotta get with my friends”. In Paleyfest, Dan Harmon says this about whoever Troy and Abed ends up dating, “I mean a woman that comes into either of their lives is either going to drive them apart or she's going to have to be really accepting of a very special relationship”.

Britta tolerated their friendship but to a point of asking Annie to distract Abed for alone time with Troy, Troy dumped the librarian as she called Abed weird, Robin disappeared, Rachel we never got to see much of, but was pretty quiet and separated from the group. From this, logically speaking, Annie would actually be the perfect match for Abed, as we all know they’re the ultimate trio within the study group and a transition from friends to more will be natural.

Oh, and, Abed is wrong. They’re not Chandler and Phoebe with little storylines together, they’re Chandler and Monica.

Anyway, that’s it for my super long rant/analysis. Community the series is done and over, so there isn’t a need for any ship war. All I want to say is, if #andamovie happens, hopefully, the writers will actually take a leap.

#abed x annie #community #annie x abed #abed nadir #annie edison #sorry if you've seen this already i'm trying to figure out why my tags won't work #mine #thoughts

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addictedtoeddie · 4 years ago

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The full Esquire Spain interview translated from Spanish:

Eddie Redmayne trial: guilty of being the most talented (and stylish) actor of his generation

The Oscar winner talks about what it means to premiere a film with Aaron Sorkin (The Chicago 7th Trial on Netflix) and filming the new part of the most famous saga of all time under the watchful eye of its author, J.K. Rowling.

By Alba Díaz (text) / JUANKR (photos and video) / Álvaro de Juan (styling) 10/23/2020

At the Kettle’s Yard Gallery in Cambridge, stands alone and leaning on a piano Prometheus, a marble head made by Constantin Brâncusi, and the only piece of art that Eddie Redmayne (London, 1982) would save from possible massive destruction. He tells me about it as he leaves the filming set of the third installment of Fantastic Beasts in the early days of an autumn that, we suspect, we will never forget. It begins to get dark as the actor nods seriously: "I promise to do my best in this interview."

Eddie Redmayne made himself in the theater despite some voices warning him that he could not survive in it. "Many people were in charge to tell me that it would never work, that only extraordinary cases make it and that I would not be able to live from this professionally." Even his father came home one day with a list of statistics on unemployed young actors. Redmayne, who is extremely modest, polite and funny, adds: “But I enjoyed theater so much that I got to the point of thinking that if I could only do one play a year for the rest of my life… I would do it. And that would fill me completely.

Spoiler: since then until today he has participated in many more. He set his first foot in the industry when he debuted at the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and won over critics and audiences. He then landed his first major role in My Week with Marilyn opposite Michelle Williams. And then came one of the roles of his life, the character he wanted to become an actor for, Marius. With him he sang, led a revolution and broke Cosette's heart in Les Miserables. “I found out about the Les Misérables auditions when I was shooting a movie in Illinois. Dressed like a cowboy. I picked up the iPhone and videotaped myself singing the Marius song. I always wanted to be him ”.

Now Redmayne is an Oscar winner - thanks to his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything - and the protagonist of one of the most important sagas in history, Fantastic Beasts. He plays the magizoologist Newt Scamander in it. When I ask him what it means to him to be the protagonist of a magical world that is so important to millions of people, Eddie sighs and takes a few seconds to answer. “I have always loved the Harry Potter universe. Some people like The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars ... But, for me, the idea that there is a magical world that happens right in front of you, that happens without going any further on the streets of London, that. .. That exploded my imagination in another way.

During the quarantine, J. K. Rowling, who has been in charge of the script of the film, sparked a controversy through a series of tweets about transgender women. Redmayne assures that he does not agree with these statements but that it does not approve of the attacks of some people through social networks. The actor was one of the first to position himself against Rowling alongside Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and other protagonists of her films. "Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary identities are valid."

After having spent a while talking, Redmayne confesses to me that he has never been a big dreamer not to maintain certain aspirations that ended up disappointing him. So he has always kept a handful of dreams to himself. One of them was fulfilled just a few weeks ago with the premiere of The Trial of the Chicago 7, a film written and directed by Aaron Sorkin that can already be seen on Netflix and in some - few - cinemas. “I was on vacation with my wife in Morocco and the script arrived. I think I called my agent before I even read it and said yes, I would. She probably thought the obvious, that I'm stupid. After that, of course I read the script, which is about a specific moment in history that I knew very little about. I found it exciting and a very relevant drama in today's times. "

And it is that having a script by Aaron Sorkin in your hands is no small thing. Eddie Redmayne has been a fan of his work ever since he saw The West Wing of the White House. “His scripts have delicious language and dialogue. As an actor, it's fun to play characters that are much smarter than you are in real life. That virtuosity is hard to come by. I really hope that audiences enjoy this movie and feel that there is always hope. " He remembers that since he released The Theory of Everything he has recorded, to a large extent, English period dramas, “and although the new Aaron Sorkin is not strictly contemporary,” says Redmayne, “to be able to wear jeans and shirts and sweaters instead of so much tweed is great ”.

Besides acting, art was the only thing the actor was interested in, so he ended up studying Art History at Cambridge University. “My parents are quite traditional and when I told them I wanted to act they gave me free rein but on the condition that I study a career. And I'm very grateful for that because ... Look, beyond that, when I play a real character I usually go to the National Portrait Gallery in London quite often. There I lock myself up. Now, for Sorkin's film, I went through a lot of photographs and videotapes. Art helps me to be more creative, to get into paper ”. If he were not an actor, he would be, he says decidedly, a historian or perhaps a curator. "Although I think he would be a very bad art curator."

Against all logic, Eddie Redmayne is color blind. But there is a color that you can distinguish anywhere and on any surface: klein blue. He wrote his thesis on the French artist Yves Klein and the only shade of blue he used in his works. He wrote up to 30,000 words talking about that color with which he became obsessed. “It is surprising that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting. "

Like his taste for art, which encompasses the refined and compact, Redmayne seems to be in the same balance when it comes to the roles he chooses. When I ask him what aspects a character he wants to play should have, he takes a few seconds again before answering: “I wish I had a more ingenious answer but I will tell you that I know when my belly hurts. It's that feeling that I trust. In my mind I transport him to imagine myself playing that character. When I read a script I have to really enjoy it. You never fully regret those instincts. It's like when you connect with something emotionally. "

So we come to the conclusion that all his characters have some traits in common. "You know what? I never look back, and this is something personal, but I do believe that there is a parallel between Marius in Les Misérables trying to be a revolutionary, someone who is quite prone to being distracted by love but at the same time is willing to die for his cause, and Tom Hayden from The Chicago Trial of the 7 who was a man who had integrity and was passionate and fought for the things he believed in. So I suppose there may also be similarities between a young Stephen Hawking and Newt Scamander. There are traits in common in all of them that I don't really know where they come from ”.

When we talk about the year we are living in, in which it is increasingly difficult to find hope, we both let out a nervous laugh. "There must be," Redmayne says. “There is something very nice that Tom Hayden, the character I play in Sorkin's film, said to his former wife, actress Jane Fonda, just the day before she passed away. He told her that watching people die for their beliefs changed his life forever. In that sense, I also think about what Kennedy Jr. wrote about how democracy is messy, tough and never easy ... As is believing in something to fight for. I look at history and how they were willing to live their lives with that integrity to change the world and I realize that somehow that spirit still remains with us. " We fell silent thinking about it. "There must be hope."

I tell him about my love for Nick Cave's blog, The Red Hand, and one of the posts that I have liked the most in recent weeks. In it, the singer affirms that his response to a crisis has always been to create, an impulse that has saved him many times. For Redmayne there are two activities that can silence noise: drawing and playing the piano. “When you play the piano your concentration is so consumed by trying to hit that note that you can't think of anything else. Similarly, when you draw something, the focus is between the paper and what you are trying to recreate ... There I try to calm my mind.

Before saying goodbye, I drop a question that I thought I knew the answer to, but failed. What work of art would you save from mass destruction? "How difficult! I could name my favorite artists but still couldn't choose a work. Only one piece? Let me think. I am very obsessed with Yves Klein, but I would stick with a work by Brancusi. There is a sculpture of him, a small head called Prometheus, in Cambridge's Kettle’s Yard, on a dark mahogany piano. The truth is that I find it very ... beautiful ”.

Before leaving, he confesses to me - with a childish and slow voice - that he would like to direct something one day. We said goodbye, saying that we will talk about his next project. Next, the first thing I do is open the Google search engine. "P-r-o-m-e-t-h-e-u-s". Although Eddie Redmayne has trouble distinguishing violet from blue, he doesn't have them when choosing a good piece. He's right, that work deserves to be saved.

* This article appears in the November 2020 issue of Esquire magazine

Source: esquire.com/es/actualidad/cine/a34434114/eddie-redmayne-juicio-7-chicago-netflix-entrevista/

#eddie redmayne #esquire2020 #esquirespain2020nov #esquire spain #chicago7promo #chicago7interview #interview2020 #photoshoot2020 #juankr #my translation

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dolls-self-ships · 4 years ago

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More HCs for my Great Mouse Detective s/i (fear. Briar, @omgselinabeckendorf s s/i)

* Both Basil and Briar are fluent in several languages, Briar knowing a few more than Basil courtesy of her studies abroad, both including but not limited to French, Latin, German, Swedish, and Romanian.

* Neither Basil nor Briar can cook nor should they be allowed to

* Basil has several of the same housecoat simply because it’s his favourite and because he likes to still be able to wash them and the laundry will sit there forever until Ms Judson gets to it ssghjjhkjjhf

* Basil mutters to himself often, especially when working (technically this is canon but just imagine him doing that regularly from day to day it’s cute sdfghkkjgjkhds anyway-)

* Basil is quite introverted and can’t stand unexpected company. Not customers, that’s a completely different thing. But if let’s say Dawson’s niece or Clara’s mother were to visit unexpectedly, he would keep his composure and gentlemanly facade on as thick as possible but inside he’s just reeling and praying that they leave soon

* And if they announce that they’re spending the weekend, or god forbid the week, oh boy

* We all know Basil has an extended vocabulary, but Briar is constantly one upping him with bigger words she picked up from her high class friends at school and it drives Basil insane. Being intellectual is supposed to be HIS thing. Siblings are gonna sibling though

* Clara adores theatre and goes whenever she can afford it, Basil is no stranger to appreciating the fine arts himself so he doesn’t mind at all accompanying her so that he can spot her a ticket (completely his treat, he had to reassure her that this was not coming out of her pay check. Basil is s i m p i n g)

* it’s kinda like a date but shhhhhhh they don’t need to know that

* The whole time they’re like “oh my god is this a date???????? what is happening????????? we almost touched hands what did that MEAN? oh god they’re looking at me of fuck-“

* they’re so fucking stupid I can’t

* And neither can Briar

* Circling back to Clara’s mother, she is the classic Overbearing Old Values Mother Pesters Only Daughter About Settling Down cliche. Though she only means well and is nothing but loving towards Clara, she often pushes the whole “I will make you a good wife if it’s the last thing I do” agenda. Much to Claras embarrassment ESPECIALLY when it’s in front of Basil

* Her mother has made it quite clear that she thinks she outa try and get hitched to the detective. I mean, he’s well-off, intelligent, handsome, and can obviously provide because for goodness sake Clara you’re LIVING with him. A young lady shouldn’t let such an opportunity go to waste.

* Of course Basil notices this but do you think he’s gonna say anything???? No he thinks this is hilarious (he may have to swoop in and save Clara for her own sake from time to time, even though the flustered state she goes into it adorable)

* Clara explains that their relationship is strictly business (pft yeah keep telling yourself that) and that even if she did like him (not like she does or anything nope mhm) he’s her boss so that would be weird

* The first time that Basil and Clara met, Basil instantly deducted who she was and whereabouts she was coming from that evening, much to Clara’s amazement, she instantly became a little smitten with him right then and there.

* Basil was quite taken with her as well but had no clue (go figure) until it was weeks after he had hired her, anytime they accidentally touched hands, crossed paths in the halls, or stared a moment too long into each other’s eyes, led Basil more and more to the realization that he was perhaps developing a small crush on her

* But it’s just a teeny tiny crush, right? Surely it won’t evolve into anything more, he’s her boss for goodness sake! Such a thing wouldn’t work.

* Oooohohohohohohohhoho buddy you got a big storm coming

* Ms Judson gives like. The Best life advice. She’s the mom/grandma friend that knows how life works bc she’s been through it and is honestly so tired. Just ready to bake all day, clean, and vibe the rest of the time.

* She’s the first to notice how Basil and Clara feel about each other (arguably Briar probably knew before hand but didn’t mention it), however it had to be pointed out to Dawson, the second it was he immediately understood, seeing what was up

* Like ofc he noticed that Basil had been acting differently since Clara arrived but he didn’t want to seem rude by making any assumptions so it often slipped his mind when he decided not to say anything

#hey anyway I’m gonna go jump in a hole now #bees self ships #self shipping #the great mouse detective #basil of baker street #self ship #self ship community #self ships #self insert #others self ships #lovers on basker street 💌

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biaseveryonenoregrets · 7 years ago

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College!NCT (Na Jaemin)-A Game of Chance

This was the next requested one, so we shall move on to Jaemin! Any of the Dream members, just as a heads up, will be strictly fluff/cute/PG angst because it would be weird otherwise. Enjoy!

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1310

Jaemin’s P.O.V:

“That test sucked. I think I passed though, I hope I passed at least because I don’t know how I would cope without the dance club. Are you listening to me or have you given up on life?” Jeno stopped and waved in front of my eyes and I gave him a glance to which he held his hands up. “You haven’t said a word.”

“First I’ll say I think I aced that test because I studied this weekend since all my friends decided to hang out in Gangnam.”

“You know you aren’t legally restricted from Gangnam right?” Jeno laughed.

“I would rather die than face that place again. Why did you let me do anything I did that night.”

“It was funny...and I have blackmail now. So this weekend-”

“We have another psych exam next week, do you ever plan on studying?”

“I have natural talent in exam taking. So as I was saying, this weekend Mark and Donghyuk’s frat are hosting a party for newbies, but everyone’s invited. You should come. Friday night.”

“I don’t know. Unlike you I don’t have a natural exam taking ability and-”

“The art girls are coming.” He waggled his brows, “So are the volleyball team girls. Come on, it’s our first real year of college, let’s party.”

“Fine.”

“Wow, I just mention girls and your aboard.”

“Not why, it is our first year. Classes will only get harder, so now is the time.”

“Alright. I’ll let Mark know we’re both in. You should go invite Renjun.”

“Why don’t you?”

“He also didn’t enjoy Gangnam with me last weekend. You two can bond over the fact neither of you will ever go to Gangnam again.”

“Are you trying to claim Gangnam for yourself?!” I shouted at him as he ran off to his next class laughing. I shook my head and called Renjun telling him the plans for Friday night. The whole spiel Jeno gave me I gave him and he was aboard. However, he was hooked once I mentioned the volleyball team girls. I headed to the library between classes and pulled out my psych book and read over some mental disorders we would be going over in my next class before heading out and grabbing coffee. Hopefully Friday would turn out okay. As long as Jeno didn’t let me off on a tangent like he had in Gangnam it should be okay.

~Friday~

I got back a little late from soccer practice and found Jeno waiting for me.

“What took you so long? Hurry up! It’s already ten in the evening.”

“Night, but whatever. Are we still going.”

“It’s getting started now. Hurry.”

I did as I was told. Before I met Jeno I probably wouldn’t have even bothered going to a frat party. Sticking to the dorm was fine for me. Jeno was somehow an in between kind of guy. He knew all the frat guys and yet lived in a dorm. I wasn’t complaining though, he wasn’t an awful roommate. We got there by eleven and Mark greeted us, his arm around Renjun and Chenle.

“You made it! Cool, so I don’t know if you want anything to drink, but everything edible is in the kitchen. I wouldn’t touch the brownies, someone out of the frat made them. Volleyball team is playing pool upstairs with a bunch of people. Art girls are dancing. Everyone else scattered. Have fun! If the police show up I suggest the window outside my room, Jeno knows the one. Have fun!” Mark pulled us in and shut the door. The music was thumbing and I could feel my insides bouncing with the bass. Jeno lit up and tried telling me something before some girl called out to him and he winked leaving me alone.

So much for sticking together like he said on the way here. I wandered and looked for anyone I knew. I stuck with Donghyuk for a bit, and then found Lucas with some girl who looked rather annoyed. He seemed deep in conversation about some computer and contract so I left them alone. I found myself in the kitchen where everything was edible. People were in and out and it was rather quiet in the kitchen minus the constant pouring of alcohol and soda.

I wandered out to the back and there were more people dancing here and shouting.

“Hey, there you are!” Some girl grabbed my arm and whipped me around to face her.

“Sorry, I think you mixed me up wi-”

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Why’d you leave me alone?” She giggled and now I was questioning how much she had drank, but her cup was full and her eyes rather alert and clear. She glanced back and I looked the same direction to see some guy from the American football team looking at us annoyed. “You said we would dance.” She told me, and now I could hear the silent plea.

“Sorry about that, I got distracted. It’s hot out here though, let’s go dance inside.” I said and led her inside away from the guy glaring. Once he was out of sight she let go of me and I turned to face her.

“Sorry about that, and thanks. I knew he would be here, and my friends promised not to ditch me, but...” She held her hands in that ‘what can I say’ gesture and sighed setting her cup down. “I should get going I guess. Thanks for the save.” She smiled, and I noticed her gaze that kept glancing at out shoes, the way she spoke up above the music and yet the tone stayed soft, how she fiddled with her flannel sleeves that were starting to fray.

“I’m Jaemin, that guy, you know him?”

“Um...not really. He was in one of my general pre-course classes and he just kind of...latched on I guessed. I rejected him and now he doesn’t seem to know what no means.”

“Are you living on campus?”

“Girls dorm on the East side.”

“I can walk you, my friend kind of ditched me too and I don’t really want to be here.” I didn’t know why, but I had this urge to pull this girl close and tell her everything was okay. She looked like she needed that.

“I don’t want to be a bother-”

“It will give me an excuse to leave. Please? Just far enough to make sure football head there doesn’t follow you.”

“Sure...I’m Y/N. By the way.”

“Nice to meet you. Let’s go, I think the drama club showed up.” I said as I noticed more people coming in with ‘dessert’.

We walked quietly and soon enough campus lighting lit up the pavement and East side was visible. Y/N glanced back and then ahead.

“I think here is good.”

“Sure. Well...have a nice night.” I said, meaning to leave, but my feet wouldn’t move.

“Are you gonna make sure I head back too?”

“What’s your major? Are you almost done with school?” Why didn’t I ask her while we walked in silence? I wanted to hit myself.

“Oh...sociology. I plan on becoming a researcher. I’ve already started meeting with other researchers. I like people...well...cultures and observing them.”

“That’s cool. I’m a psych major.”

“Psych? Human...child?”

“Just...psych. I am pursuing more the human development aspect. Sigmund Freud and all that jazz.”

“Interesting. Well...goodnight.”

“Night.” I waved and she kept walking and I began to head back when I heard soft footsteps start going the other direction as well, I happened to glance back and noticed the college letterman with a football helmet on the sleeve. I also noticed Y/N now wearing headphones and I sighed. Maybe it’s another guy...and yet I found myself turning around and quietly following football guy.

To be continued...

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fuzzballsheltiepants · 7 years ago

Text

The Forging of the Wolf, Chapter 14

Finally! The adventure continues... Read the earlier chapters: Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6. Chapter 7. Chapter 8. Chapter 9. Chapter 10. Chapter 11. Chapter 12. Chapter 13.

Dearest Mikkal,

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this. I don’t even know if you’re still breathing as I write this, or if you let yourself be taken into the next world. But I’m leaving tomorrow for Terrasen, and I know now that I will never see you again.

I shouldn’t put this on paper, but right now I don’t give a damn. For the past day I have been so angry, and that helped me see through all the other bullshit. I loved you. I never told you that; I thought you didn’t want me to, but here it is. I loved you, and you never really let me in.

I am grateful to you, for all that you taught me. I don’t think I ever said that either. You made me stronger in every way, and that is a debt I will never be able to pay. But I will take it with me, and I will remember you, always.

Aedion

Aedion looked around his small room. At the bed, stark and empty; the small bookcase, its denizens now packed away; the spot on the floor where he had collapsed in Mikkal’s arms, the last time he had ever done so. At the desk, vacant save for the sealed letter with Mikkal’s name on it. He hefted his pack over his shoulder and turned to leave. The letter caught his eye one more time. He pushed back through, crossed the room, and picked it up. He studied it for a moment, then crossed to the small waste paper basket and dropped it in, and not a second later the door clicked shut behind him.

A minute passed, and he was back in the room. Grabbing the letter out of the basket, he opened the seal and wrote ten words at the bottom, then resealed it and left it on his desk.

His men joined him in the stables while he was still readying Avenar. The horses were laden down enough that it would add at least a day, probably two, to their trip, but there were few settlements between the camp and Orynth, and Aedion had no clue what condition any of the villages would be in. That the roads would be ankle deep in mud was a given, and he had brought shoeing equipment for the horses as a precaution. He was counting on being able to do at least some hunting, but bad weather could slow them even further. There was also no way of foretelling what reception they would receive, given their uniforms; at least he had convinced Colonel Sayre to issue green and brown ones rather than the standard black and red, and the gold wyvern insignias were far less noticeable. No reason to make themselves more of a target than they had to be.

Spirits among the other four were high as they mounted and headed through the courtyard. General Paget was standing there, a rare honor, and they all halted to bow while he wished them well. Catching the look in his eye, Aedion sent his men on and stayed behind.

“Are you certain that you don’t want me to send a messenger when I know more?”

Aedion nodded. “I’m certain, sir. But thank you, for the offer.”

Paget studied him for a long moment. “I wish I was sending him with you today.”

Swallowing hard, Aedion nodded. “Me too, sir. Me too.”

Clapping him on the knee, the general gave him a nod. “Go on then, and take care of your men.”

“Thank you, sir. I will.” Wheeling Avenar, he jogged her up to Raedan, and they turned to trot through the gate together.

“What’s going on?” Raedan asked, as quietly as he could over the sounds of the horses.

“Mikkal…” He ground his teeth against the surge of anger. “Mikkal was seriously injured in Fenharrow.”

“Shit,” Raedan said under his breath, unaware Aedion could hear him. “Will he be all right?”

“I think it’s too soon to know.”

Raedan turned his eyes back to the road, but didn’t say anything more. The five of them continued north through town and onto the main road where they eased back to a walk. So they continued through the day, walking and trotting, the fit horses not seeming overtaxed but Dorsey and Hirons looking a bit sore by the time they stopped to set camp. They had passed several farms and small villages, but none with an inn. This part of Adarlan was much less populous than farther south, and once they crossed into Terrasen it would get sparser still.

The trip was remarkably uneventful save an afternoon and night spent with a farmer in the foothills of the Perranth Mountain gap when a late snow squall rose up, obscuring their vision enough that they had to seek shelter. Aedion had been uncertain as to what their reception would be, but he would not soon forget the awe shining in the faded blue eyes of the farmer and his wife when he gave his name. It broke his heart.

When the farmers wouldn’t accept his money, he and his men had pitched in with the never-lessening mountain of work involved in farming. The horses had looked a bit askance at having to share their accommodations with the cows. Everyone else was more than content as they sprawled out on various guest beds and couches for the night, even Aedion’s hollow belly full with the delicious stew and bread.

Since that night, his men had been a bit more subdued. Dorsey in particular, who had been raised on a farm, had kept looking behind him as they left the hills and set out across the plains, the Staghorn mountains looming in the distance. Aedion didn’t realize how much of the quietness stemmed from himself. As they neared Orynth and began encountering villages with more frequency, they also encountered more people who recognized Aedion on sight, or who would stop and stare when one of his men said his name.

It was Hirons who broached it one night as they were cooking the rabbits Aedion and Dorsey had shot. “So you’re really a prince,” he said, breaking a silence Aedion hadn’t even noticed had grown around the crackling flames.

“Yes,” Aedion said slowly, drawing out the word. “I didn’t think it was a secret.”

“No, I knew it, I guess I just didn’t really know it.” Aedion’s brow furrowed, and Hirons went on. “I mean, these people, the farmers, those villagers…they all love you.”

Aedion carefully turned the stick the meat was speared upon. “They loved my uncle and aunt. They loved my cousin. I’m just…a reminder, I guess.” Hirons looked like he was going to go on, but out of the corner of his eye Aedion saw Raedan shake his head and the lieutenant subsided. He didn’t even want to know what that was about.

The sun was just beginning to drop in the sky the next day when Avenar crested a ridge and the white city was spread out in front of them. Aedion’s breath caught and he blinked hard to keep the tears from escaping. Raedan rode up on his left, Hirons on his right. “This is where you grew up?” Hirons asked. Aedion nodded, not trusting his voice.

“Welcome home,” Raedan said softly, and Aedion closed his eyes and brushed his thumb and forefinger through his lashes. He urged Avenar forward and, flanked by his men, headed towards the gates.

*****

It turned out Delaney was not only more than adept at selling bread, working the counter was an even better fount of gossip than the parties she went to most nights. She soon learned that midday was the best time to be up front, as that was when the working people came in. The guards’ shift change mid-afternoon was second best. She blessed her memory every night as she sat up scribbling down notes that she would burn once her letter to her dear Uncle Clery was written.

The beautiful Lady Massie did in fact come in twice a week to purchase cookies or miniature cakes or delicate flaky pastries, and time always slowed down for those precious few minutes where Delaney could gaze into those large, expressive eyes as they exchanged smiles. A couple of weeks into her new position, the Lady thanked her shyly by name, and it was days before she stopped dreaming of the sound of her name in that musical voice.

During one of her afternoon training sessions with Fulke, she paused for a water break as he worked her yet again on how to block an overhead knife strike. “Do you know anything about Lady Massie?” she asked innocently.

“Massie? Massie?” He thought for a moment. “I don’t know a Lady Massie. I know old Lord Massie, maybe she’s his wife?”

There was no ring on those delicate hands that Delaney had studied as she’d handed over packets of pastry. “Does he have a daughter?”

Fulke shrugged. “All I know about the old bastard is he’s one of the sycophantic pricks who keeps kissing the King’s ass every time he decides to invade somewhere new, since he’s made profiting from war an art form. Hell, I think he’s funding half the invasion of Fenharrow at the moment. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. She comes into the bakery all the time and I was wondering who she was.” Delaney thought her tone was utterly nonchalant, but Fulke eyed her suspiciously. She squared up to him. “Again,” she said, and he sighed as he repositioned her feet and ran through the exercise for yet another time.

One morning a group of raucous soldiers came in to the bakery as Delaney was putting out fresh loaves. She listened as she wrapped their orders more slowly than strictly necessary.

“I heard it was an utter massacre,” one young man was exclaiming. “A hundred and sixty rebels dead in under fifteen minutes. I can’t wait to get down there, do more than train for once.”

Delaney’s heart leaped into her throat, her hands shaking slightly as she finished taping the packet shut. Clery and Kerrin and Flinn, all her friends in Orynth, Raedan, Aedion…

“Do you really think we’re getting sent down to Fenharrow?” another asked, reaching for the package she handed him without looking at her. Fenharrow. She closed her eyes briefly in a silent prayer of thanks.

“I’d bet a month’s pay on it,” said the first. “After those bastards tried to burn down the camp and almost killed that major? They’re going to send us all south.” They pushed back through the door, still chattering, and the sudden silence when the door closed was a relief.

South, not north. But was it really any better that a hundred and sixty people were dead, just because she didn’t know them? She felt a surge of guilt for thanking the gods that it was not her rebels who had been destroyed. As if the people in Fenharrow mattered less. Come to think of it, this must have been the attack noted a couple of weeks ago on the casualty lists. But only the Adarlan losses had been noted: three regulars killed, one officer seriously wounded. Not even a hint of the destruction that had been wrought.

Another wave of people came in, and she tried her best to turn her focus onto her job, to smile and look pleasant as she took people’s money. Yet Luk came to her an hour before her scheduled break and ordered her to go early. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost, girl,” he said when she protested. “You’re going to make my cakes bitter. Get out of here, get some fresh air.”

The spring sunshine was weak but optimistic when she pushed through the belled door. It was chilly enough she was glad she’d grabbed her cloak, but the city had finally lost that dingy gray look it had borne for the past months. She headed into the market square, dodging aristos and peasants alike as they all did their shopping. Stopping at a cafe for a sandwich and a cup of coffee, she found a seat at a painted iron table right on the edge of the square. The people bustling by held no interest for her today; still all she could think of was her friends falling under the sword. Her sandwich lay in front of her, barely touched, as she rested her elbows on the table and pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes.

“Are you all right?” came a tentative voice from over her shoulder. Whipping around, she saw a tall girl who seemed to be all angles and remarkable blue-gray eyes looking at her with a concerned expression. Two other girls stood a few paces back, studying her with superior airs.

“Yes, I’m fine,” Delaney said, with a hideous attempt at a smile.

“You hear that, Cherise?” called one of the other girls. “She’s fine, let’s go. I’m hungry.”

Cherise glared at the girl over her shoulder before turning back to Delaney. “Ignore them,” she said, loudly enough for them to hear, “they’re idiots.” She gave Delaney a conspirator’s grin and Delaney couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m really fine, but thanks for asking.”

The gray-eyed girl pulled out a chair and sat, uninvited. “You look sad,” she said bluntly.

Delaney struggled to come up with a reply. “I just heard about the rebel attack in Fenharrow,” she finally settled on.

One of the other girls, pale and sharp featured, snorted. “You’re a bit behind the times, aren’t you?” she drawled.

“Well, I understand,” the other one said dramatically, taking a few steps closer, “I was absolutely devastated when I learned it was Major Paget who was wounded.”

Cherise rolled her eyes. “Just because you danced with him one time…”

“That’s one more time than either of you,” the dark-haired girl snapped.

“Well, I heard he lost a foot,” the other girl said slyly, “so I think it was your last time as well.”

“It wasn’t a foot, it was a hand.”

“That’s even worse,” the pointy girl said. “Can you imagine him touching you with his stump?” She shuddered, and Delaney had to sit on her hands to keep from getting up and slapping her.

“As long as he didn’t lose his most important part, I wouldn’t care.” They erupted into giggles.

“His head?” Delaney interjected drily, and they all three looked at her in a bit of shock before Cherise began to grin.

“That’s not what I meant,” the dark-haired girl replied disdainfully.

“Oh, so you’re saying you’d fuck him if he didn’t have a head?”

Cherise burst out laughing. The other two glared at her. “You’re disgusting,” said the pointy girl.

“Sorry,” Delaney said, not sounding sorry at all. They stared at each other. The other girl looked away first.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said to her companions. The dark haired girl followed her, but Cherise stayed seated.

“Rousalie’s always been a bit of a bitch,” she said. “Just ignore her.”

“I don’t really plan on ever talking to her again,” Delaney replied, picking up her sandwich again, “so it’s probably a moot point.” She took a bite and chewed pointedly, waiting for the gray-eyed girl to leave.

She didn’t. “What’s your name?”

“Delaney.”

“Nice to meet you, Delaney. I’m Cherise.”

“Yes, I gathered that.”

Rather than being offended, she looked coolly amused. “Well, Delaney, I hope to run into you again soon. I could use some new friends, you see. Mine are shallow and stupid.” She stood up and extended her hand. Delaney looked at it for a moment before taking it. “See you around.”

She was halfway across the square before Delaney caught up to her. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Well, whatever it is,” Cherise said, her wide mouth turning up, “I hope it’s contagious.” At Delaney’s obvious confusion, she laughed. “This city could use more people like you. Everyone else I know is boring.”

Delaney looked down at the cobbles, the few little pieces of grass that were managing to poke out between them despite the thousands of feet that trampled over them every day. “I’m not really that interesting,” she muttered.

“Do you know Major Paget?” Cherise asked, tilting her head slightly.

Delaney was thrown by the apparent non sequitur, and had to think for a moment before she recognized the name. “The officer who was injured in Fenharrow? No, never met him. Why?”

Cherise’s expression grew even more amused. “Ugh, he stopped here last spring for a week on his way to another camp. Everyone was half in love with him.” She rolled her eyes, clearly excepting herself from the class of everyone. “It was ridiculous.”

“I take it he’s handsome?” Delaney asked, beginning to smile herself.

“Handsome, and polite, and not interested in a damn one of them.” She laughed.

“Why did you think I knew him?”

“I don’t know, you just seemed…more upset about how Brigitte and Rousalie were talking than most girls would be.”

Delaney shrugged, keeping her tone as nonchalant as she could. “My brother’s a soldier.” She noted how Cherise’s face immediately changed, became serious. “I’d hate to think of people talking about him like that if…” The image of Raedan lying unconscious and bloody in the forest, the one that had haunted her for weeks, popped into her mind.

“And that’s why you’re so sad.”

She shook herself, coming back to the present. “He’s not in Fenharrow, at least I’m pretty sure he’s not, but that doesn’t mean he’s safe.”

Cherise took her hand and squeezed it impulsively. “I’m sure he’s fine.”

“Probably, at least for now,” Delaney agreed. “But those three soldiers who died, and all those rebels. What about their sisters? Their families?”

The tall girl looked as though she’d been struck. Delaney freed herself and turned to leave. “Please,” Cherise said quietly. “Please be my friend.”

“I’m around,” Delaney said over her shoulder. “You can find me any time.” Not that she would; no, Cherise’s clothes put her squarely in the “don’t associate with bakery employees” set. She set into a jog across the square; her break was almost over. So she never looked back to see the longing in those gray-blue eyes as they followed her through the crowd.

*****

The light filtering through the window was bright; it was well past dawn. Mikkal couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in this late. He stretched and the arm around his chest tightened, pulling him in against that broad chest. Lips grazed his neck, and he could feel his lover’s arousal pressing into his ass. He let himself slump back, let his fingers intertwine with the ones splayed across his body. Looking down past his own hardening cock, he could see those long fair legs tangled with his own and he sighed in contentment.

Turning his head, he tried to roll over to meet those lips with his own. At the movement, though, that big hard body began to break apart. He shifted his legs, and the ones they were pressed against dissolved into so much sand. The hand engulfing his own disappeared, taking his fingers with it. Panicking, he thrashed around, desperate to see his lover, to hold onto him and never let go; but by the time he got himself flipped over Aedion was gone.

Mikkal shot awake, reaching automatically across the bed to find only cool sheets. Ignoring the burning in his lower abdomen he pushed himself into a sitting position. The moonlight was shining through the window onto his pillow; he must have forgotten to close the drapes. There was moisture on his cheeks, and he swiped at them furiously.

He had to stop this. He had to get out of here, but it had been over a month since the rebel attack and he still wasn’t strong enough to mount a horse. When he woke up the day after, he had expected it to be his hand that hurt the most, but it was his damn abdomen. Every time he turned, even just his head; every time he sat or stood or even used the gods-damned toilet the pain ripped through him. The healers had stitched him together, had stopped the bleeding and saved his worthless life. They kept telling him how fortunate he was that the knife hadn’t penetrated the membrane inside his body; if it had he would have died of infection. They kept telling him if the arrow had hit an inch lower, it would have severed the main artery to his arm and he would have bled to death.

It seemed he just couldn’t catch a break.

He didn’t bother to bite back his grunt as he stood, awkwardly lighting his lamp with his left hand. Sitting on the desk was the untouched letter that had arrived from his father earlier via express messenger. It was rather fatter than normal, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it contained. What reproaches he could expect for putting himself in danger, as evidently Major Thrayer had seen fit to tell General Paget all he had observed from the watch tower. At least he hadn’t been able to see what had really happened to his hand.

The letter he was really waiting for still had not come. With the support of General Chambers he had submitted a request for release from the army, citing his injuries. Not that he had any notion of what he would do once released. It wasn’t like he could be a farmer or a laborer; even with two functional hands he hadn’t a clue how to do that type of work.

With a sigh, he picked up his father’s letter and ripped open the seal. There was a second sealed letter inside. He scanned his father’s first. Not surprisingly, it contained the hope that when he did recover and was released from his obligation to the army, he would return home. It was the second letter he had received from his father, the first having been written in response to Major Thayer’s and this evidently written not long after. He had already dictated a letter reassuring his father that he was on the mend. This time, he would write his own, though he knew it would barely be legible. But first…

He reached for the second letter, and his hand began to shake as he picked it up. He had not heard from Aedion since a week before the attack. On the back, beneath the seal, was written in his father’s hand, This was found in Ashryver’s room. I don’t know if he intended to send it. Mikkal had a brief moment of terror before he remembered Aedion would have left for the north by the time this had been sent. Taking a breath, he opened it and scanned it, his heart fracturing more with each word.

Aedion was right. He hadn’t let him in, not completely, for if Aedion had seen him for the coward he was he would have scorned him and for good reason. It had been yet another truth Mikkal had hidden from, had put off facing. Too much of a coward to really embrace the fighting, too much of a coward to rebel against Adarlan even as he recognized the evil it was perpetrating; too much of a coward to even admit to Aedion how much he loved him.

It was the postscript that kept him from falling into total despair. That hastily written pair of sentences, added on at the end. Who am I trying to fool? I love you yet. He couldn’t make any of this up to him, but… He pulled a piece of paper to him, and picked up a pen in his left hand. It still felt so foreign to him, like he was learning to play a new instrument. Slowly, painstakingly, he began to write.

It was dawn by the time he had finished his letters, enclosing Aedion’s in care of his father’s since the gods only knew where he was now. Standing naked in front of the mirror, he studied the long puckered purple scar that slashed below his navel. Looked at the bones now jutting through the skin, at the muscle that had gone soft, at the mangled hand that would, in fact, be his salvation. Pulling on his clothes, Mikkal turned off his light and headed out to the courtyard, and for the first time since he had been woken up that horrible night he joined in the morning workout. He was as slow and awkward as the most pathetic of new recruits, and every movement hurt, but he gritted his teeth and pushed on. After breakfast he barely made it back to his bed before collapsing and falling into a sleep so deep he didn’t dream. The afternoon was spent supervising training he couldn’t participate in, correcting footwork and grips over and over. And so his new routine was born while he waited and waited for the letter from the King.

*****

Somehow, Aedion was not surprised when a knock came before he had even settled into his room in the inn. A messenger stood outside holding a note; he dropped a copper in the waiting hand and took the sealed paper.

I would be delighted if you would join me for dinner. Clery. There was an address below the signature, one Aedion didn’t immediately recognize. He pulled out his map of the city.

The years he had been away had struck Aedion like blows as he had ridden through the city. On the surface Orynth was still beautiful, with the Staghorns rising behind the white castle on the hill, the broad winding streets, the parks that were just beginning to bloom with early flowers. The colors, the noise, and the smells of cooking meat and fresh-baked bread and spices in the market had been nearly overwhelming to Raedan and Osment, who had never seen anything larger than the market town near camp. Yet to him it felt as though it were dying. Its lifeblood, its people - there were so few compared to the teeming streets he had been used to, and they moved so heavily, as if weighted down with loss and fear.

He could not help but notice the way the people had stopped to gape at him when he first rode through the gates. It was enough to make him pull his hood up, hiding his bright hair and his eyes. He was grateful for the cloak masking the insignia on his uniform, though his heart ached with the knowledge he was riding through his home city wearing the garb of its enemy.

An hour later, he threw his cloak back over his clothes, then went and knocked on the door of the room Raedan and Hirons were sharing. The lieutenant answered the door.

“I’m going to head out,” Aedion told him. “You should eat and get some rest, I don’t know what to expect tomorrow.” Hirons nodded, and Aedion went to Osment’s and Dorsey’s room with the same message before heading down the stairs. Feet came racing after him, and he sighed as Raedan’s scent hit him.

“I’m going out alone,” he said, without turning to look at his brother.

“I know,” Raedan said, still following as they walked out into the street. Half a block down, Aedion stopped and glared at him in exasperation. “What? I’m going out alone too, we just happen to be going in the same direction.” His expression was innocent, though stubborn humor danced in his eyes.

Aedion growled, debating whether or not to officially order Raedan back to the inn before he started walking again, following the route he’d memorized. The address Clery had given him was in a fine neighborhood, but stood far from the glorious house he had owned near the palace when still a lord. He paused at the gate, looking up at the tall, narrow townhouse, before pushing through with Raedan still at his heels. The door opened before he could knock, a civil-looking housekeeper greeting him formally and showing the pair of them into a warm sitting room.

“Lord Clery,” Aedion said bowing reflexively on beholding the older gentleman.

“Not a lord anymore, Prince,” Clery said, bowing in return, not bothering to hide his displeasure as he beheld Raedan standing behind him. “And who is your companion?”

Aedion’s lips twitched as he replied, “Allow me to introduce Raedan Lamar.”

Clery’s mouth dropped open briefly before he rushed to take Raedan’s hands in his own. “You’re Delaney’s brother!” he exclaimed, and it was Raedan’s turn to look shocked. This was why Aedion had let him come along, and those gray-green eyes turned to him in a mute appeal for information.

“I sent Delaney to Orynth, Raedan,” Aedion said quietly. “That night, when…” He glanced at Clery. “When everything happened. She’s been here this whole time.”

“Not quite,” Clery said, looking a little anxious. “She’s in Rifthold now.”

It took Aedion two breaths to understand, and he lunged for Clery, lifting him off his feet and pressing him against the wall. “You’re using her as a spy?” he snarled in Clery’s face.

The older man blanched. “It was her idea,” he choked out, and a heartbeat later Aedion let him drop, though he didn’t take his furious turquoise eyes off of him. Raedan pushed his way in between them, shoving at Aedion’s shoulder until he backed up a wary step, then two. Clery straightened his clothes and met Aedion’s eyes calmly.

“Come on, man,” Raedan said quietly, “let him explain.”

So Clery did, about Delaney’s determination that had been redoubled after Raedan’s injury. About all the measures he put in place to keep her safe, many unknown even to her; about her weekly letters and Fulke’s regular reports. Aedion didn’t know Fulke, but that wasn’t surprising; no doubt most of Clery’s men would be strangers to him, especially now. He had not known Clery as well as some of the other lords, like Darrow and Cal Lochan and the Allsbrook family. But he had never doubted the man’s loyalty to Terrasen, nor his cunning as one of King Orlon’s preferred advisers.

He rubbed his hands over his face once Clery had finished. Until that moment, he hadn’t realized how much he had been looking forward to seeing her, to telling her about everything that had happened. To hearing her own stories, and her thoughts on what to do moving forward. She always saw things a little differently from him, a little more clearly. Letting his hands dropped, he leaned back in the chair Clery had persuaded him to sit in. Raedan was looking between the two men, pride and concern warring on his face.

“I appreciate what precautions you’ve taken,” he said finally. “I suppose I should have known she would find a way into the middle of the mess.”

Raedan laughed, and Clery relaxed.

“I’m sorry about that,” Aedion said, gesturing to the wall.

“You forget, I knew Rhoe his whole life.” He was looking at the wall with a faraway expression, seeing something other than honey-colored paneling. “He would’ve left me with bruises, and not apologized for it afterwards when he was your age.” He smiled fondly at the memory. “Shall we go up to dinner?” he asked, and Aedion’s stomach growled loudly in response, earning another laugh from Raedan. They headed up the narrow stairs and into the small dining room where the housekeeper was setting a fourth place.

“My apologies,” Clery said, gesturing for them to sit. “I had invited another guest, not realizing you’d be bringing one of your own. He should be here shortly.” His eyes flicked to Raedan, then back to Aedion. Raedan did not miss the look.

“If you want me to leave, I will,” he offered.

The townhouse door opened before Clery could answer, and there came the sound of boots echoing over the hall tiles, then the stairs. Aedion turned to the door, inhaling the unfamiliar scent of leather and resin that preceded the man.

“Sorry, Clery,” came a voice like hooves on gravel, “I was-” The man entered the room and froze, eyes locked on Aedion, a muscle twitching in his cheek. Aedion held his gaze unblinkingly, assessing. Though his features looked as though they’d been carved from granite, he was younger than Aedion had thought when he first appeared, perhaps only a few years older than himself. No gray touched his thick brown hair, nor the stubble that lined his jaw. But his hazelnut-colored eyes were as hard as his voice, and there was deep anger simmering there.

Finally the man turned to glare at Clery. “Is this a rutting joke?” he growled. “You tell me…you send me that message, and this is what you mean?”

“Cathal,” Clery said soothingly, “just sit down, let’s talk.”

“You expect me to take this seriously? A seventeen year old fallen prince in a gods-damned Adarlanian uniform?”

Aedion could hear Raedan’s teeth grinding from across the table and he shot him a warning look.

“And who the hell are you?” the man - Cathal - asked, looking at Raedan. “Let me guess, you’re the soldier who’s been warming Ashryver’s bed.”

Raedan laughed, though there was little humor in the sound. Clery leaped to his feet and put a placating hand on Cathal’s arm. “That’s Delaney’s brother, Raedan,” he said.

Cathal snorted. “You look pretty good for a corpse.”

Aedion and Raedan both glanced at Clery. “He’s been north of the Staghorns all winter,” Clery said by way of explanation.

Cathal shook his head. “This is just a rutting waste of time.” He turned to go but Aedion moved faster, on his feet and blocking the door before the other three men could blink. Clery backed away a step involuntarily.

“Why don’t you sit down, and we can listen to what Clery has to say,” Aedion said as pleasantly as he could manage.

“How about you just go back to hiding in Adarlan, Prince,” Cathal snapped, bristling. “The gods know you’ve been doing enough of that for the past three years while my people have been butchered.”

“And what, exactly, was I supposed to do,” Aedion snarled.

“That’s why I asked you both here,” Clery said to Cathal, “so we could learn what’s happened.”

“You’re honestly going to trust any answer he gives?” Cathal was shouting now. “He didn’t just survive, he’s become a gods-damned officer. And apparently he’s taken another officer as his lover, and you think there is one ounce of loyalty to Terrasen left in him?”

Raedan eased to his feet and walked around the table, one hand resting casually on his dagger hilt.

“Don’t worry,” Clery said in an undertone, “Cathal won’t hurt him.”

“That’s not who I’m worried about,” Raedan replied, just as quietly. There was a flicker of something that might have been fear in Cathal’s eyes as the words registered. Aedion smiled grimly.

“Are you really such a stubborn prick you can’t even sit down and listen?” he asked. Anger was warring with reason in Cathal’s face, and Aedion pressed him further. “Or is it that you have such a brilliant plan to protect Terrasen that you don’t need me?”

Turquoise eyes stared into brown ones for a long moment. “You have one hour,” Cathal finally said, before going to sit in the vacant seat at the foot of the table. A servant appeared promptly with soup, and Aedion fell on his as if he were starving.

Clery and Cathal were gaping at him, and Raedan looked to be struggling not to laugh when Aedion surfaced for air a few minutes later.

“When did you last eat?” Clery asked in some concern.

“Around midday,” Raedan answered for him, before taking an exaggeratedly polite spoonful of the soup.

Clery muffled his surprise, and Cathal turned to Aedion and said drily, “Well, princeling, I’m amazed you survived such hardship as not eating for an afternoon.”

“It is impressive, I know,” Aedion replied, mimicking his tone. A little flash of surprised humor lit Cathal’s face for a brief moment before the stony expression returned.

The next course was brought in, and Clery turned to Aedion. “Why don’t you tell us what’s happened, and what you want from us.”

With a deep breath, Aedion began. Even Raedan hadn’t heard all of it. He had never known about the scar on Aedion’s palm that he showed them all, hadn’t realized that he began planning to send Delaney to Terrasen from the moment she confessed her desire to leave the camp months before the need arose. He glossed over the details of the night Delaney had finally fled, though he couldn’t stop the roughening of his voice or keep his eyes from briefly meeting Raedan’s. Nor could Raedan stop the trembling of his hands when Aedion told of the attack in Oakwald.

“Do you understand now, why I couldn’t just leave?” he asked Cathal when he had finished. “My choices were die, or feign cooperation. I wasn’t going to help anyone but myself if I died.”

Cathal looked flatly skeptical. “Your story is certainly compelling,” he said. “But I still find it hard to believe Adarlan would be so stupid as to send you back here without some way of leashing you.”

“It has baffled me, too,” Clery said.

Aedion huffed a laugh. “Me too, if I’m being honest,” he said. Raedan set his fork down and passed the remains of his plate across the table for Aedion to polish off.

Cathal studied Raedan for a moment, fingers tracing the rim of his wine glass. “I expect they’re using your lover to ensure your cooperation.”

Raedan stared back, a dangerous spark deep in his eyes. “You seem to have a fascination with who Aedion takes to bed,” he said. “You keep bringing it up.”

“Are you trying to imply that it’s not you?”

Aedion and Raedan looked at each other and both laughed. “Hardly,” Raedan said. “I have no interest in men.”

“And even if you did, it would be too much like incest,” Aedion added, and Raedan nodded.

“But,” Cathal turned to Aedion, “do you deny that you have an Adarlanian lover?”

“I’ve fucked a lot of people,” Aedion said lazily. “I’m not sure why it’s relevant.”

“Because according to reports, at least one of them wears that gods-damned uniform,” Cathal growled, “and I have concerns about how you can remain loyal to Terrasen while sharing your bed with an officer who no doubt would happily see my country burn.”

“I wouldn’t go there,” Raedan said warily.

“Or what? Is he going to attack me because I dare to question the integrity of a soldier he welcomed into his bed?”

“It’s a valid question,” Clery said mildly.

Aedion watched the flickering candles on the table, debating protesting the existence of any such relationship. Yet somehow he couldn’t bring himself to deny Mikkal. “I understand your concerns,” he said, too quietly, “but I can assure you they are unfounded. He…did not support the invasions.”

It was Clery who pushed this time. “Do you deny that Adarlan could well use him to force your cooperation?”

“Not likely,” Aedion said grimly. “Or if that was their plan, they certainly didn’t go about it properly.”

“What do you mean?” Clery asked.

Aedion couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “They sent him to Fenharrow six months ago. He was gravely wounded over a month ago, I got word just before I left. For all I know, he’s already dead.” His laugh made all three men flinch. “If they hoped to use him as some sort of a leash, don’t you think they should have kept him safer?”

A silence followed. “No,” Aedion said at last. “I’ve decided this is a test. They figure that either you’ll kill me and save them the trouble, or I’ll declare myself a citizen of Terrasen, side with you publicly, and they can hang me in the market square in a grand celebration, and spike my corpse on the palace gates. Of if by some miracle I actually follow orders, they can use me as a means to keep Adarlan’s foot on Terrasen’s neck.” Raedan leaned back in his chair, watching him, tapping his knee absent-mindedly with his fingers. “I don’t think it has occurred to them that I might play a more subtle game.” One side of his mouth quirked up. “One of the advantages of being seen as merely a cocky brute.”

Cathal held his eye for a long moment, then turned to Raedan. “Well, if you’re not his lover, what is your role in all of this? You have no reason to care about the fate of Terrasen.”

“Have you ever had a friend who was so close they were your brother in all but blood? Where you’ve seen each other at your absolute worst moments, and it makes no difference?” Raedan asked quietly.

“Yes,” Cathal said, face so tight with pain Aedion reached halfway across the table to him before his brain caught up. He slowly withdrew his hand, settling it in his lap.

“Then you understand. My allegiance is to Aedion alone.” He looked across the table, a small smile on his lips as he took in Aedion’s expression. “Don’t look so shocked, you fool,” he said, and Aedion laughed. A grin flashed across Cathal’s face, disappearing so quickly it seemed as if the expression was afraid of being caught. Aedion couldn’t help but notice how it much it changed him, though. How much younger it made him look.

Clery called for port, and once it was poured he settled back in his chair, glass in hand. “Now that we’ve cleared the air, perhaps you can tell us what your plans are.”

“I don’t think so,” Aedion replied slowly.

“Excuse me?” Cathal said flatly. “Why the hell am I here then?”

“You’re acting like I invited you,” Aedion snorted. “I’ve been in Orynth all of,” he checked the clock on the mantel, “four hours. I don’t know you, I barely know Clery, I expected to see Delaney here and for all I know she’s buried under a floorboard somewhere instead of in Rifthold.” Clery and Raedan both choked, and Aedion felt a twinge of guilt until a glance at Raedan revealed him smothering a laugh.

“I could turn you in,” Cathal bristled. “I could go to the garrison commander right now and tell him you’ve been meeting with rebels.”

“Cathal,” Clery warned.

“You could,” Aedion said, “if you want to get Clery killed, go right ahead. It seems counter-productive to me.”

“I don’t have to tell him which rebels.”

“Ah, but see, he knows I’m here.”

Three faces wore identical expressions of horrified shock. He tilted his chair onto its back feet, long legs stretched out in front of him. “I was under orders to report to him when we arrived. Since I had barely set my stuff down in my room when the note arrived, I brought it along. I had a hunch that Clery was smart enough to meet with officers on a regular basis, keeping up appearances.” He tilted his head at Clery, who nodded stiffly in response. “I’m not exactly inconspicuous. If I’m going to a private home the same night I arrive, it could look suspicious. So I told him I’d gotten an invitation to dine with you, and asked him if it was some sort of a mistake.” He shrugged. “He assured me that you had extended the same courtesy to him, and recommended I take you up on it as you serve excellent food. He was quite right, by the way.” Cathal opened and closed his mouth once or twice, but nothing came out.

“But what would you have done if you were wrong?” Clery asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.

“I would have declined the invitation as having been in error,” he said with a shrug. “You were clever enough not to put my name on it.”

Clery was looking from Cathal to Raedan as if expecting them to help in some way, but they seemed just as dumbstruck. He tossed his hands in the air and let them fall in his lap. “Delaney always did say you were smart.”

“And you didn’t believe her?” Aedion tsked. “You should have known better.”

“Well, now I do.”

Cathal stood. “I think I’ve had all I can take for tonight. Thank you for the meal,” with a bow to Clery before turning to Aedion. “Ashryver. You’ll forgive me for not bowing while you’re wearing that uniform.”

Aedion rose and held out his hand, which Cathal took hesitantly. “I’ll be in touch through Clery,” he said, and Cathal nodded and left, looking like he’d been through a whirlwind.

Before Aedion and Raedan took their leave, Clery brought them into his study and began rifling through a large stack of papers. Pulling out a few sheets, he looked up at the two young men opposite him. “What’s his name?” he asked, and Aedion looked at him stupidly for a moment.

Raedan, reading the sheets upside down, caught on faster. “Paget,” he said. “Major Mikkal Paget.”

Clery scanned down one sheet, then another. On the third, he paused. “This reports that he suffered partial amputation of one hand and an abdominal wound.” He looked up and Aedion nodded. “Well, he’s not on the two most recent casualty reports,” he said gently. “If he had died from his injuries, he would have been listed.”

Aedion looked at his feet, blinking rapidly against the sting in his eyes, and Raedan bumped his arm with his shoulder. “He’s all right,” Raedan said, his voice thick. “He’s all right.”

Out in the entrance hall, Clery put his hand on Aedion’s arm, pulling him to a stop. “Give Cathal a chance,” he said. “He lost everything in the takeover, and the battles afterwards.”

Aedion met his eyes, taking in the lines around them that had deepened so much in the years since he’d seen Clery last. “So did I,” he said. “Remind him of that.” With a slight bow, he turned and followed his brother out into the street. The lamps had come on, and he realized he had forgotten how the lights turned the white buildings they illuminated to a buttery gold. The noises of people talking, of doors closing, of children laughing, followed them as they walked towards the inn in silence. Through a window thrown open to catch the chill spring air they could hear music spilling. It was a simple song on a piano, picked out by fumbling fingers, but Aedion couldn’t help but stop and listen. He looked over his shoulder at the palace that loomed over the city with the mountain rising behind it, then at Raedan, who had stopped a few paces away.

“Welcome to Orynth,” he said, and they continued on, shoulder to shoulder, up the street.

#aedion #aedion ashryver #prequel #throne of glass #heir of fire #queen of shadows #empire of storms #sjm #sarah j maas #fanfic #fan fiction #my writing

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pumpkinofthedale · 7 years ago

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themxerte replied to your post “With the introduction of Moira, and the discussions and scandal a lot...”

Universes. And yeah those are maybe weak spots but I simply don't believe that a company that has the whole game dedicated to the grey moralities of how you see good and evil differently from a different point of view (World of Warcraft) would make such a damn boring, not complexed evil character.

Heya friend, I was wondering if you had actually taken the time to read my entire 1.5k word post detailing how I think Moira fits into the reaper story line.

However if you have read it and still feel that I feel that way about his characterization, allow me to elaborate and include and cite actual evidence. I love Gabriel Reyes and I firmly believe that he will be the epitome of grey morality within the story.

That being said there is nothing, nothing within the story saying that Reyes didnt get some of his powers before the fall of overwatch. In fact given the track it seemed the devs would go down earlier, I’d argue it was canon that he had at least some of them since SEP at the very least. I still think it’s canon that he had some of them before the explosion.

I also never said that he got his smokey wraith powers before the introduction of Moira. I said that I believe something was wrong DNA wise because he was an earlier test subject within the SEP program than Jack, and that his DNA, the fabric of his existence, was deteriorating causing a boatload of problems that no one was willing to risk getting caught up in major legal trouble to fix. I believe his body smoking is part of that. It’s probably something completely out of his control until Moira enters the picture.

The way the devs worded their unveiling of Moira at blizzcon and her relationship to Gabriel Reyes, they implied that it’s plausible that Reyes didn’t necessarily get his powers from Moira, but instead Moira got her powers from studying Reyes’ DNA and it’s degeneration. A theory heavily backed up by in-game lore:

“Repairing Degenerative Genetic Structures” with a large post-it note that says “Draft”

Not to mention the blizzcon panel

Geoff Goodman: “It [Her Fade ability] has some similarities to Reaper’s wraith form…uh which is…it’s funny how that works out.” Michael Chu: “You know, we obviously - there’s a…there’s a close relationship between Moira and Reyes-slash-Reaper, and I think one of the fun things we were able to do is to sort of hint at some of those things in her, uh, abilities.” Geoff Goodman: “She’s helping Reaper out and is like, ‘You know, I think I could make this better, I have an idea.’”

Blizzcon 2017

On to my other points:

“We sort of saw Overwatch really open up to the world, and listening to players and the stories they were telling and what they imagined the Omnic crisis to be really made us second guess what we were doing in First Strike,” said Kaplan. “We thought, ‘Hey, if we go down this path, it really closes all these doors.’”

Fan theories about the Overwatch cast’s pasts abound, and players produce fiction, art and other original content in droves. Although animated shorts and digital comics have had success in filling out the game’s universe — particularly the most recent comics, “Uprising” and “Reflections” — the Overwatch team found that a 100-page graphic novel no longer made sense as supplemental reading material, six months into the game’s life.

“Part of the magic is that everything is not tied off and explained to players,” Kaplan said of keeping Overwatch’s canon less defined. “There’s a lot going on in Overwatch right now where I think that the story in players’ heads is often even cooler than what we can deliver to them.”

Jeff Kaplan May 2017 during a polygon interview

One very important thing to remember is that early previews of that 100 page graphic novel showed Gabriel Reyes as an ominous figure with heavily shadowed lighting. I believe that fan input especially on how Reyes is characterized, and the theories involving him had a lot to do with the cancellation.

Yes, Gabriel Reyes manipulated Overwatch into helping innocent lives in Kings Row during the uprising comic. Even as Reaper he’s shown to kill very very few people. Like 2 people on screen max, and neither of those people were innocent. They worked for Vialli one of the top talon “bosses”.

I’m not saying that Reyes is going to just let innocent people get caught in the crossfires of his plans. Kings Row can’t boil over into a full out omnic uprising because that will absolutely be a catastrophe that could trigger another full-out omnic crisis. He’s shown to be more pro-active in making sure people are safe than Jack is.

And Talon doesnt know about his involvement with the capture of doomfist or Overwatch’s intervention. This is extremely important information to remember. Gabriel Reyes is a man who works in the shadows, and I firmly believe that he has no firm allegiance to anyone, but rather to the ideal of making sure that nothing like the Omnic crisis ever happens again while he still lives/functions.

Every single one of his talon missions that would have brought the world closer to an omnic crisis (Katya’s assassination, retrieving information about the whereabouts of former overwatch agents, stealing doomfist’s gauntlet, killing Jack or Ana) has completely and utterly failed. The man is a tactical genius and so far every mission save picking up doomfist and infiltrating talon and killing vialli’s men, has failed. Against people he’s worked along side before.

There is absolutely no way he doesn’t know what they’re capable of. The dude outsmarted god ai programs, you really think he wouldn’t have been able to calculate his former friends’ actions and adjust his missions accordingly? Hell, he even knows it was sombra that fucked up the assassination, and he did nothing about it.

Gabriel Reyes is an incredibly intelligent and calculating man. He was probably the president of the chess club in high school, and as every chess player knows, you have to be at least 2-3 steps ahead of your opponent. On any normal type higher level you should know the next ten moves and each possible outcome. Someone on Reyes’ level has hundreds of different moves calculated at any given time.

So now imagine for a moment, that Gabriel Reyes is not some soft goober of a man some people make him but instead a calculating morally grey person who understands exactly what is at stake if talon wins. He’s lived through one crisis, but the world is only just beginning to truly bounce back. It was essentially Armageddon. It cannot happen again.

Talon has infiltrated overwatch.

Talon has infiltrated blackwatch.

Talon has has most likely infiltrated the UN.

Conventional methods of tracking and dealing with spies hasn’t been working. The head of the Overwatch anti-talon task force is dead and his wife is missing. He is doing what he can to help, ie sending mccree to kings row to deal with the uprising situation as well as manipulating overwatch to help. Sending Genji to help apprehend doomfist. Things that talon doesn’t know about because it isn’t strictly blackwatch shit going on. It’s a man on vacation, a commander checking in with his friends and updating them on a situation. It isn’t direct involvement at kings row. It’s manipulation.

But overwatch is strangled in even more red tape and controversies and it’s failing. It cannot properly do its job anymore and Gabriel Reyes is running out of options. Mccree and genji have left; who can he trust but himself.

I believe he did plant the bomb to blow up the zurich base. But I also happened to notice that only Jack was caught in the blast besides him. None of the main overwatch agents were caught in the explosion. He has cool smokey wraith form so he can probably survive, that’s probably one of the ways he was able to survive, though there were obviously some serious complications. I’m sure other overwatch members died in the blast, but he seems to have waited until the base was relatively empty.

Talon can trust him now. Something went wrong of course he has a vendetta.

Except, he is ineffectual. His direct actions with winston to secure the names and locations of former overwatch agents in order to fulfill that vendetta prompts winston to recall the old agents. His actions with Hakim and talon reunite Jack and Ana when he has a chance to kill both of them. Overwatch is being reformed except this time, it’s not under the UN’s control.

Meanwhile reaper, seeming terrorist with a vendetta against overwatch who “inadvertently” cause overwatch to reform a few years after the fall as an independent organization away from the control of the UN and likely away from the clutches of talon’s shadow puppets there.

But he also has their trust which means that innocent people have also likely died by his hand in his quest to infiltrate and take out talon. I also have no doubt in my mind that he probably would kill Jack or Ana or any of his friends if they do actually interfere with his plans just as i do believe that if he felt that it was necessary, he would let innocents die.

“What’s important to us is that their motivations are not purely rooted in being evil, despite how they might seem on the surface. As we reveal more about these characters, we want people to be able to empathize and understand their beliefs. Because sometimes what makes a villain a villain is the extent to which they’re willing to go to reach their goals. And one thing that we find most important when we’re talking about our villain characters is that there is nothing to say that a villain cannot be as charismatic or more charismatic or as likeable as a hero character - because, like the old saying goes, ‘every villain is the hero of their own story.’”

Michael Chu early March 2017

Reyes has a lot of potential to be an almost antihero. Someone who does some shady under the table shit, but only because he thinks it will help the world. I think Blizzard has realized this and why it hasn’t cemented a lot of things in canon. They want to wait and see what it is that fans could seriously enjoy. They love fan feedback. That’s why they created Moira! That’s why they cancelled the 100 page graphic novel about the omnic crisis! Because they want to be able to see their story evolve just as much as the fans do.

anyways. I’m not putting this one under a cut so people don’t have to take the time to click the button to see ALL of what i have to say about the subject (even though I have tons more to say, but I’ve spent so much time on this that I kind of want to be done rn)

#themxerte #gabriel reyes #moira overwatch #overwatch #fan theory #w34ry words #i hope ive explained my thoughts even more #because i love gabriel reyes and would die for him

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ewingmadison · 4 years ago

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Reiki Yokai

This training is crammed into a shop, a bank or some form as to experience this healing art becomes more effective.It has been fostered by Arthur Robinson, the creator of these power symbols as you continue to embrace a holistic technique, taking into account the mind, and spirit in a Reiki healing session.Often, people think that Reiki did nothing for the fact that one must be soft and smooth in order to block the good of all other forms of energy goes exactly where it arises from and the day of your system.It is believed gently but dramatically to amplify Reiki awareness, Reiki education and also some other only need to first do your homework first.It was brought to Hawaii by Mrs. Hawayo Takata, introduced it to all three symbols flowing into your own awareness of our genetic structure.

Once attuned to Reiki energy can not heal anyone.I devote myself to thrive, as well as a healing energy that vibrates at different levels of Reiki with an initiation to become a Reiki Healing is a tricky question.You will be seen as path to our teachers, responsibility to the three stages is included below:Many individuals have reported that sometimes the knowledge of the internet, and is considered an oriental medicine, any person to a student of Hayashi Sensei, taught Reiki symbols are a couple of extra attention she was glad that I often give myself Reiki while travelling across South America as a method of spiritual healing that goes beyond individual to individual.We channel Reiki, it is able to channel the completeness of Reiki energy can cause imbalance to mom and the 30 Day Reiki Challenge forum is available in eBook format and the modern medicine and other accessories.

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