#especially not when prior conversational beats on her part included 'if you know anyone doing a startup please refer them :)' lol

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

did i panic when the very kind community manager at the coworking space asked me what my book was about?? yes, yes i did. HOWEVER. the space itself is. promising. so. We Shall See.

[shihalyfie]

Takeru’s character song “Focus”

I alluded to this in a prior post (and, to be a bit honest about it, was a little concerned about how it would be received), but I had some friends ask about what I meant about this, so I decided to go more into detail with it! This is also partially in light of the occasion of the Best Partner albums also becoming a topic of interest again, so it feels like a good time as ever!

02 was a pretty prolific time for merchandising and side material as far as the franchise goes, and one of the many things that came out of it was the “Best Partner” series of character song albums (a whole 36 songs for all 12 Adventure and 02 kids plus their partners!). Of these, Takeru’s song “Focus” has been a particular topic of interest for many in the fanbase to its suspiciously loaded language and the fact that, well...it comes off as a romantic song, which is very unusual in a series that infamously didn’t touch on the topic of romance very much in terms of the actual series. Speculation has constantly abounded on what it’s supposed to imply, why it’s written this way, and what it could possibly mean...

But if you look at it closely? It’s probably not meant to be romantic, and it most likely refers to Patamon.

One thing that I do need to point out is context. Many who have been cynical about the song’s alleged romantic implications have generally put forth the idea that the music department was technically separate from the anime staff, so it’s possible that the music staff wanted to bait or provoke fanservice without much connection from the anime production. It is, undoubtedly, true that the music department isn’t necessarily fully tied in with the anime department, and has been fully willing to indulge in questionably-canon silliness (while 02′s Christmas Fantasy is certainly in-character, its placement in actual canon timeline has to be finagled with because of what we know about 02′s actual Christmas, and Tamers’s Christmas Illusion is far more comedic than the series itself actually permits), and, exacerbating this further is the fact that Hikari has her own extremely romantically loaded song, Reflection, which is often submitted as evidence that Focus must be made in the same vein, but tends to omit the fact that the album it comes from (Girls Festival) needs to be taken with a very heavy grain of salt given that it’s a notorious fanservice album that deliberately plays up the “maiden-like” characteristics of all of the girls involved for the sake of, ah, a certain subsection of the audience. (It was also made in 2002, long after 02′s production had ended.)

The notable thing about the Best Partner albums is that all of the material on it is extremely in-character, and this is especially notable because the song lyrics are significantly more obviously relevant to each character in 02 and their relationship with their partner than even the original Adventure character songs were (with said Adventure character songs often toeing into rather vague glosses that are only tangentially relevant to each character, and Mimi’s song on there pretty blatantly being an AiM single shoved onto the album for the sake of being called a Mimi song). Moreover, Focus isn’t just written by some random lyricist they grabbed for it, but regular Digimon lyricist Yamada Hiroshi himself, who was very involved in the anime production in terms of writing 02′s inserts Break up! and Beat Hit!, and, considering everything this series is about, you’d imagine he’d probably have been given some kind of details about what to do with Takeru’s representative song. It would be quite strange if, for some reason, Takeru’s song were the only one to go really off the rails about shipping bait instead of being, well, actually about his character arc. 

I should emphasize that the fact that this song is so commonly read as romantic persists in Japan as well, so whether it was via mishap or not, undeniably, the way the lyrics are phrased definitely make the romantic reading a very reasonable one to pull. The language in the song is extremely “loaded”, and, if it weren’t for the unique circumstances I’m about to describe, most reasonable people can’t really be blamed for taking it this way. However, I will say that all of the most common English translations of various parts of the songs have tended to assume the romantic interpretation as well, and have thus followed up with it by definitively translating it in ways that make it near impossible to read otherwise. So what I’m saying here is that I don’t think it was unreasonable for people to have taken the romantic interpretation, and I don’t particularly intend to blame or criticize the translators who handled this song for also taking it this way, but I also want to make clear that this is not the only way to read the song, and that there’s a very high possibility that this wasn’t the case to begin with.

(Also, since I mentioned Yamada Hiroshi earlier: it’s actually not all that uncommon for him to use heavily-loaded language like this in songs he’s written for the series -- refer to Beat Hit! -- it’s just that people haven’t traditionally taken them as shipping because the context and identity of the songs’ topic matters were so obvious that there wasn’t much need to do speculation about it.)

Let’s take a look into all of the parts of the song that have been traditionally taken as romantic:

"We were together since we were little”

One thing that’s interesting about how this line is phrased in Japanese is that it doesn’t actually specify who was little. And, obviously, if you’re talking about a relationship between humans, you’d think that childhood friends would grow up together, so you’d default to “we”...but, actually, the Japanese text doesn’t rule out the possibility of reading this as “since I was little”. Which means that, yes, Patamon isn’t out of the ruling here -- because, indeed, they met when Takeru was young.

In fact, this actually is a line that arguably should rule out anyone else, especially including the most common speculated topic for this song, Hikari -- because he and Hikari weren’t actually that close during Adventure, and their time “together” was relatively short compared to the rest of the adventure. Remember that the Adventure kids weren’t very close to each other after the events of the series, and Hikari and Takeru didn’t keep close contact between Adventure and 02 -- contrast Patamon being close to Takeru during the entirety of the series, and, bar their periods of disconnect between Adventure and 02, you could say that he’s been the closest to Takeru since this time, especially since Yamato hadn’t been able to be as present for him as he’d wanted.

"Running, rolling around, and always laughing"

Again, this is a line that practically excludes nearly anyone else from consideration. Nobody ever did this with Takeru in Adventure but Patamon, especially since Takeru was trying to present himself as a well-behaved kid in the presence of his elders, and it’s entirely possible he wouldn’t have been willing to do this with anyone else but the outwardly childish Patamon. It definitely would not have been Hikari, who was arguably even more reserved than him during this time.

“It would have been better if I hadn’t realized”/“I have a lot of things I want to tell you, but I can’t really say it”/“I can’t ask that”

Sentiments like “I can’t admit it”, or difficulty with accepting one’s own feelings, is usually associated with developing romantic feelings for another person and being touchy about admitting them, but the thing is that this is intended to be a representative character song, and Takeru is actually abysmally bad at admitting anything in general. And yes, that includes not being able to be straightforward with Patamon himself about parsing his trauma over his death.

Takeru was never able to have a straightforward conversation with even Patamon about the whole issue, because of his nasty habit of never opening up about his problems and never being honest about them. That’s why Iori had to be the one to take matters into his own hands and go out of his way to understand Takeru, because Takeru sure as hell wasn’t going to be able to work through this on his own, or even with Patamon.

“I can’t get you off my mind”

This one’s actually a stock phrase in Japanese that can refer to “being interested” in someone (romantically), but can also refer to something just not really being able to leave your head in general (from being bothered by it, or being very worried). So yes, this could mean anything from a romantic fixation...to simply being constantly worried and concerned about one’s welfare.

“You were always crying”

As far as people around Takeru’s periphery who apparently cried a lot goes, there aren’t a lot! The description doesn’t seem to fit Hikari much, either (she had her moments, but it’s not the kind of thing you’d imagine this kind of extreme descriptor for). Hm, but there is someone who might fit that description...

Certainly, enough that Takeru would remember.

(By the way, Patamon gets sent on the verge of tears in the middle of his own solo song...)

"The door that I couldn't reach that day, no matter how far I stretched out"

Very important part here: that day. There was a very important “day” that seems to be on Takeru’s mind here. What’s repeatedly referred to in 02 as one of the most traumatic and impactful days of Takeru’s life?

Incidentally, Takeru and Patamon’s duet song for this album also just so happens to use “opening door” imagery...

“You’re now standing in the light”

That use of “light” is usually submitted as evidence that it’s referring to Hikari via a pun on her name, but, well, “light” does happen to just mean “light”, after all (and it’s used in many contexts that don’t necessarily have to refer to Hikari in 02 itself). And, well...

Pretty apt description there, no?

"We were always being protected"

It could refer to Hikari, or anyone else Takeru was with during Adventure, but remember that Patamon was always the slowest to evolve (especially given the many circumstances that happened with him in Adventure that kept him unable to actively join the fight effectively for a very, very long time), and Takeru himself also had a pretty nasty complex about holding everyone back.

So, in conclusion...

Despite how loaded the language is, in the end, it’s probably meant to be a song about Takeru handling his trauma regarding Patamon very poorly at the time of 02. Which is, well, what his character arc in 02 was about, so it tracks, doesn’t it?

Bear in mind that, again, this is basically “one readable interpretation of it”, which I also personally happen to back very strongly because I think the evidence simply tracks too much given context -- the details described in the song rule out almost every other candidate that would be relevant to Takeru’s character arc, also happen to describe the events of Adventure too well, and certainly would track much better with everything else in this particular album series mostly being relevant to everyone’s character as reflected in 02. Song lyrics are song lyrics, and interpretation might be in the eyes of the beholder...but, you know, food for thought.

[vminity21]

+1 | kth

Pairing: HighschoolCrush!Taehyung X StillProcessingIt!Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Genre: angst/fluff/smut

Warning(s): slight language use, angst (if you read b/w the lines), pretty much smutty kissing, hand groping, mention of alcohol, breast worship, nipple play; Rated: 18+

Summary: When a crush you had in high school unexpectedly returns to your life six years later, this is the experience you have with him when you collected the courage to invite him over to hangout.

Credit to: @suhdays​ for the amazing cover!

Inspiration comes in the form of little expectancy especially when life seems to throw a curveball you never dreamed would be a potential possibility; but, here you are, tapping upon the keyboard of your five-year-old laptop decorated in stickers of celebs you've admired over the years mingled with relevant quotes that have bustled yet again- inspiration that motivates you day by day to continue to be the human being that you are. Inspiration though can appear in lyrical melodies broadcasted globally for millions to pine over; or, published in numerous pages creating imaginary worlds where ones can escape to; or, sketched in a meticulous design to build whatever idea had been desired to come to life; or, filmed in scenes of an edited story by talented persons determined to enter the spotlight in any way they can; or, painted along a canvas in colors of calculated detail bringing forth the picture of accomplishment. Inspiration derives from a mere moment- one that sparks the instinct to gather the materials needed to pour out your heart in ways that may bring a sense of peace.

For you, it used to be in the lines of a song penciled into a crinkled notebook from your backpack hidden away for no one to discover; it used to be countless childhood journals where you expressed your inward battles in order to find enough solace to sleep at night. You've lost your touch over the years because life changes in the blink of an eye, as you grow older, and work can distract from the time taken to focus on yourself; thankfully graduating college to gain the degree you now behold landed you a job, one you hope lasts for many years, and you are currently living in a two-bedroom apartment with your best friend, Monica, who's presently slumbering as you brush some loose strands of hair from your vision.

Your dog is curled at the end of your bed as you write, which is something that you haven't done in what feels like forever, but the reasoning behind this sporadic urge ignited when the familiar pair of brown eyes from six years prior, re-entered your world without your preparation and his presence from a recent night shared seems to echo in every space of your brain to where you've finally had enough. It's about time to reach out, the devil on your shoulder whispers, but the angel sitting on the opposite begs to differ. Shaking your head, you pause momentarily, cracking your knuckles before resting your forehead on the desk, exhaling slowly while the memory of his touch seems to haunt your skin.

He was someone you once admired in high school- roaming the hallways where girls giggled giddily each time he'd pass by; star of the basketball team, rising popularity to the point everyone knew his name, collecting homework answers from budding friendships, and it all began once he started his junior year at a new school- the school where you attended. But the difference that set him apart from the typical cliché's of the prevalent students you never seemed to relate to, was that he talked to absolutely everybody and anybody- no judgment on what group the person took part in, his kindness won the hearts of many other than the evident attraction of his physical features. He didn't care who you were or what you were into, he would be your friend, and that, considering he was viewed on a higher level, made him even more special.

Despite never admitting it then, you had a crush on him. He was more of an acquaintance, but you enjoyed his company when he came around, and when a past friend, who is now married with a few kids, used to have a crush on the same person, your heart sank, because with every guy thinking she was hot, you felt as though you would never stand a chance. Especially not with this guy who made your hands jittery and the beat in your chest skip- the guy who is none other than Kim Taehyung.

Taehyung would frequent the chorus room at times when you and your past friend would practice music pieces and he always was fond of your singing voice- something he praised you for often, while his attention was received from his talent regarding sports. Something he was so good at that it was spread that he may have gained quite the scholarship for college if he decided to go. There were memories of bravery where you seized the day just to steal a conversation and a hug; at one time, scribbling the words 'hot af' with an arrow pointing where he signed your friend, Min Yoongi's, yearbook; Yoongi playing it off as though he had no idea who the culprit was when Taehyung asked who wrote it. Utter surprise can't even fathom when you along with Taehyung were voted 'Most Likely to be Famous' by your graduating class when senior year was conquered. The inside joke was for you to hold the basketball while he placed his hands upon the keys of a piano, the picture you still couldn't process happened, but always remained grateful for.

Six years flew by and the conversation never necessarily held, but there were the rare messages from social media where he'd reach out hoping all had been well with you. Interestingly enough, a cover you posted harmonizing with a fellow singer happened to be his absolute favorite, one of the few Instagram posts he'd commented on, and one of the few singing videos he continuously would listen to repeatedly without your knowledge until a few weeks ago when he revealed that to you. A cover that is now near to be a four-year-old video that he still finds uplifting when he hears you and the way your voice blended so well with the other female. Your mind is reeling because after all this time, and even now, there are remains of the aftershock, trying to forget the feel of him, when there's no way you can, not with everything so fresh on your mind. So fresh on your heart.

It all occurred when Yoongi, who kept in touch with you occasionally after graduation brought you up to Taehyung who happened to think of you earlier when listening to his favorite cover of yours, and he agreed he'd like to hang out. He asked if his friend, Hoseok could join you, Monica, and Yoongi which of course you said yes to learn how sweet you found it, that he had traveled within the span of a day after visiting his grandparents, because he is a man of his word, planned to come see you even though the drive was five hours out of his way. The night was filled with so much laughter mixed with serious conversations to the point the card game that was supposed to be played was never finished, and it sprung the desire of wanting to see Taehyung again, and you couldn't come to terms with never knowing so after some encouragement from Monnie and Yoongi, you messaged T to hang out a few days later, but never opened his reply until you were safely home from work.

Taehyung: Gotcha! Hmmm, I haven't decided on what I intend on doing. Either being with family or hanging out with friends. If I don't hang out with family, you could be my plus 1 or bring whomever or vice versa

[Y/N]: Sorry I just got home from work! I'll definitely be your plus 1 if hanging with family doesn't work out! Sounds like a plan!

He asked if you wanted anything from the store when it was confirmed he was on his way which you responded with your typical answer of no, and with music playing from your Bluetooth speaker, you were highly humiliated when you lost track of four minutes of time, opening a message from him to see that he had been there, at your door. Heart racing you rushed to unlock it, head spinning when you saw he leaned against the stair railing with a plastic bag of two Arbor Mist wine bottles dangling from his hand, him promising everything was fine despite your profuse apologies- him slipping his phone in his back pocket while he followed you into your home.

Monnie happened to be staying the night with her family, so it would be just the two of you tonight, besides your dog who bounced at his legs while he reached down to pet her fluffy head. Taking in the sight of him, now that was something you found hard to believe. Just a simple pair of jeans, a gray t-shirt with a black jacket complementing the dark tendrils of hair spread across his forehead leading to the carefully sculpted lining of his jaw nearly brought you to your knees, but you held it together long enough to settle across from him at your dining room table. He had taken off his shoes at the door remembering upon a few days prior, and he set out the wine while you jumped to retrieve wine glasses (Yoongi happened to purchase for you) while banter still related to greetings.

One thing that truly intrigued you when first seeing Taehyung after six years were words, he had said that touched your heart more than you'd like to profess. "That's why I try to enjoy every moment with people because you never know what day will be your last," and you knew right then, that if there was anyone you wanted to share a moment with, it was him, and there he was, right before you, smiling about something you said while the sound of the fruity liquid-filled each glass.

"I really truly do not understand what you are so afraid of. What do you even have to lose?" Monnie tinkered with the lens to her camera while she sauntered through the living room. Exasperated from anxiety, you sucked in your lips before teasingly throwing her the side-eye.

"My dignity,"

"Oh c'mon," she paused, lifting a brow. You had been talking nonstop on how bad you wanted to invite Taehyung over, but fear of rejection including the fear of humiliation seemed to overwhelm you, although deep down you knew your best friend in the entire world was correct. You did not nor do you have anything to lose.

"Well!" You squawked, raising your palms dramatically in the air before slapping them to the sides of your thighs, "Why the hell would Kim Taehyung ever want to hang out with me anyway? Do you not see how farfetched this all is?"

"Bold of you to assume that my life isn't already farfetched enough as it is-"

"Not! The point!"

Monnie sighed, and when she saw the way your shoulders slumped in disappointment that shouldn't have been an issue, to begin with, she stepped closer, placing her hand on your shoulder, "First off, you are overthinking this, and you shouldn't. Besides, I think after hanging out as a group, he only sees you as a friend, meaning no expectations. So, go into it with that mindset okay? I'm sure he'd love to hang out with you. Secondly," she smiled, her serene expression filled with promises she always kept, "You've waited six years for this. I think you should ask him to hang out."

"You really think so?" Your grin reached your hopeful eyes, and the feeling in your chest seemed to react more positively despite your earlier turmoil.

"Yeah. The dude owes us a chair anyways,"

"Ah!" You cackled, back pressed against the dining room table as you remembered literally a few days ago when Taehyung accidentally broke a spindle of the chair in half with his foot when Yoongi scared him just by suddenly walking down the hallway. "I don't think I've ever seen a man so embarrassed."

"I'm not saying to hold it over his head, but," Monnie held up her index finger, "I think that gives him enough reason to come back," she giggled, setting her camera on the dining room table before waltzing into the kitchen.

You shrugged, "At least we can still sit on it."

"Look at it, it's staring at me," Taehyung pointed swiftly at where the vacant spindle would have been, your laughter reverberated throughout the space.

"T, really, you do not owe us new chairs. I promise, it's fine," you reassured him, realizing your cheeks were sore from how much you'd been smiling since he entered your 'realm of refuge' as you liked to describe your apartment. He snapped a picture of it, probably with the intention of getting a new chair for you and Monica regardless, and you found that appreciative although you would be happy if he didn't.

Shit. You pause from the computer screen, leaning back into your chair before folding your arms tight across your chest. Eyeballing the cursor, your vision narrows as it blinks, waiting for you to add more words to the memory that seems to spin in a cycle with the subtle goal of not stopping. Or, so you figure. If recalling every little detail isn't already hard enough, reliving the reminiscence of his fingers twirling in your hair, his sweet laugh when he looked at you, or the way he held you so tight-

But, everything in between, leading up to those mesmerizing flashes are just as important to you as what it led to. Maybe it was the conversation- the three hours of conversation before the move to the sofa which it was hard to fully focus on what else was being said because how could you properly concentrate when the one person, you'd been so worried about spending time with was seriously conversing with you like the pair of you had been friends your whole lives?

Miraculously, you were able to gather the stories of past vacations that resulted in mild disappointment revolving around the complaints of people surrounding him, or the goal of visiting as many places as possible leading Taehyung to scribble down a list of where he'd been to reveal you both have equally been to the same amount of places. Of course, the thrill of going on a mini adventure with him brought an excitement you haven't felt in a while; even the story of why he was transferred to your high school years ago due to a misunderstanding, and when the pair of you made your way to the couch, he nestled into one corner while you gladly took the other, wishing you could snuggle closer but fear prevented you from doing so.

It seemed as though that he didn't want to watch the movie anyhow, because he talked to you as though he never wanted to stop, and eventually it led to you asking one too many times if he was okay with spending the rest of the night with you. "It's up to you, I'll stay if you want me too," he promised, the way your heart fluttered when you replied, "Yes, can you please stay? I don't want you to go."

"Alright, alright! I'll stay," he smiled widely, both of his large hands reaching out, and there was not one ounce of hesitation from you- your hands grasped his before your dog jumped to beg for attention, trying to lick at his face causing your hands to undo. Laughter was contagious with Taehyung, and still cuddled into the corner of the couch, you were so elated that he was going to stay, you reached to hug him, his arms wrapping around you, the feel of your bodies aligning putting the biggest smile on your face. It was crazy how everything was seeming to fall into place- the stars aligning as though it was all magic; and, you couldn't get past how right everything felt. How right he felt. Pulling away, his smile never left him, "Are you shy?" His arm remained draped around your shoulders, and timidly you peer at his surprised gape, his black hair almost covered his crescent eyes.

"I mean... Yeah, I can be," you murmured, reaching to hug him again, but something washed over you this time, a thought that had crossed your mind repeatedly that you just couldn't take it anymore. The side of his face was blurred, placing your palm upon his cheek, and without even a moment of doubt, you kissed him. A sudden decision, but one of the best ones you could have made.

His lips were so soft, the way his mouth just seemed to mold with yours for only a few mere seconds, and the shock on his face when you pulled away, paired with the realization that his hands were held in the air, you hadn't expected his reaction. Shit! You cursed inwardly, immediately jumping back to persistently make sure he was okay; even when he moved to cuddle with you, him claiming everything was fine, but that he couldn't believe you kissed him being the both of you never once saw this coming especially six years ago during the high school days. His hand was fidgety as he swiftly rubbed your shoulder, your head buried on his chest while your mind spun in a continuous loop of how you could not believe that you kissed Taehyung. The Kim Taehyung.

He became quiet- too quiet, concern etched in your expression, maneuvering yourself back to the opposite corner of the couch, so you could face him. "T, are you sure you're okay? Did I freak you out?"

"No, no, I just can't believe you kissed me," he was in awe, eyes dazed as he ran his slim fingers through his hair, "Like, really I never saw this coming,"

"I mean, have you looked in the mirror?" You teased, knowing damn well he'd been aware of you finding him attractive, and he shook his head in dismissal of your compliment as he chuckled; it took you a whole sixty seconds to realize you were holding his hand, fingers linked, and him asking if you were nervous due to your clammy palm, though you tried to swear up and down you were not, the next round of words he said nearly brought you to tears when he finally spoke.

"You shouldn't sell yourself short," he looked you in the eyes without any faltering, although you tilted your head in mild confusion as to why he was saying this, to begin with, "I don't think you realize how much of an impact you've made on others, especially guys," ah, he was letting you down easy, and you knew it, but you're too stunned to speak as you listened, "I don't think you give yourself enough credit either. You're a great singer, you're pretty much a musician, you love animals, you have a job, you live on your own. Really, you shouldn't sell yourself short-"

"T," you breathed, pleading almost, but trying not to make it obvious, but he never broke eye contact, "We don't have to date or anything, I just- I just wanted a moment with you." You mentioned what inspired you to spend time with him- exposing how a few nights ago when he said he wanted to enjoy every moment with people- you knew you wanted to have a moment with him, too. Memories from high school were spoken momentarily, thirty minutes passing by which included a made-up handshake as well as the subtle twirl of his fingers in your hair- him complimenting how good your hair looked which made you blush even more.

Just when you thought he wasn't already smooth enough, you noticed Taehyung started teasing your dog, her pouncing at his chest before he'd lean in closer to you. Eyebrows scrunching, it took you a hot second to realize what he was doing. Each time Taehyung would scoot closer to you, he'd kiss you, sending the pair of you in boisterous laughter when your dog would try to break the kisses by jumping in between your faces. The more your lips would touch, it'd last a bit longer and longer, your hand clinging to the side of his jacket to pull him closer when things really started moving fast, eventually your dog left the room with the hint that attention was no longer available for her.

Still lip-locked, Taheyung's hands gripped your hips while you willingly moved to straddle him, arms resting on the top of the couch on either side of his head, the tip of your tongue glided along his, while he fanned his hands along your ass. You refrained from moaning into his kiss despite how bad you wanted to, yet you held yourself together, involuntarily grinding your clothed heat where his erection was felt. T smacked your ass before slithering the tips of his fingers to your shirt, slowly unbuttoning one by one.... One by one. His eyes were hazed from how much he was craving your mouth, and with a seductive nod in his direction, he continued until he made it to the final goal, your kisses never planning to stop, the sides of your shirt being brushed away for him to take in the sight of you.

"Ooh my God," his eyes darkened in evident lust when he saw the way your black bra cupped your breasts, "Oh my God," his voice deepened, him hardly knowing what to do with himself while your smirk remained subtlety on your mouth. Though you hadn't needed him to ask, he politely waited for your permission to touch your chest, a quick pang of frilly nerves ghosted your stomach.

"Yeah," you breathed seductively, gradually moving to capture his lips, trying to hold back a giggle when he gently moved his hands to your back, "You're not going to find it there," you mused, referring to the clip. He paused as if panicked, "It's in the front," you finally admitted, but failing miserably, Taehyung let you take initiative, you unclipped your bra uncovering what is now widening his brown eyes. "Oh my God!" His reaction made you want to cum right then and there, especially when his fingers made their way to squeeze your nipples when his mouth returned to yours. Taehyung worshiped your breasts, and for some odd, yet arousing reason, you lived for it.

You're uncertain of when the tv was switched off, and even now, as your hands continue to fly across the keyboard, one thing you do recall, one of the lingering memories of the evening was your shirt being off, thrown onto the floor mingled with your bra, and without any warning, Taehyung hoisted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrapped around his torso while he tightened his hold around your body. His steps were painfully careful, kissing you roughly while your arms kept their place behind his neck, and the direction was being taken to your bedroom where your heart pounded so anxiously to be. His jacket was shed before the bold act, and all that was left was his gray t-shirt and jeans. Laying you down with a bounce from your mattress, he remained above you, and your eyes refused to stray especially when he reached to remove his shirt- his smooth skin greeting yours sending waves of goosebumps spreading among your limbs.

There was no one like him in your eyes, and there never would be. Not in your heart. And with how perfect everything was going; you were not prepared for how hard it was going to be to stop before things went too far. Because what if he doesn't exactly feel the same? He was letting you down easy not even an hour ago, and here you were, hopes so high, you weren't sure how you were going to erase them back down. He kissed you until you couldn't breathe, your fingers dug into your comforter, while his palms glided all over your frame for however long you let him, but when he went to remove your leggings, you halted him.

Now, this is where your heart aches when you relive this part, because a conversation was held, one where you mentioned what if someone catches feelings if the both of you decided to solely be just friends with benefits? Taehyung said all you had to do was communicate with him because he was easy to get along with, and you've known this about him for six years. He was always someone easy to talk to, and you knew he would never treat you poorly over a situation like this. And, he hadn't. You made the executive decision to not sleep with him for you wanted him to remember you as the woman you are, and the woman, you've always been, and with the fear of going all the way being something that could change his image of you, you were satisfied to hear the loud echoes of his snoring after you changed into pajamas, gazing at his sleeping demeanor before you drifted into slumber as well.

When the morning came, you were not ready for him to leave, but he asked if you would walk him out, him throwing on his shirt and jacket while you rushed to brush your teeth. T asked if you had any other plans for the rest of the day which you proceeded to answer honestly with a no, as he mentioned that he was going to get breakfast.

"Let me know when you make it home," you said tenderly, "I want to know you're safe,"

"I will," he promised before you embraced him, turning just enough to place a peck to his cheek. It was his smile that decided to enter your recollection- the boxy smile that would plague you until the day you accept that you will never forget it.

And when you opened the door to the apartment where he gracefully waltzed through, you merely caught a glimpse of him leaving, ahead of you quietly shutting the door to whatever could have been.

Or, what could have started a beautiful story that has yet to unfold.

[scriptaed]

bygones of the sun. 06 (m)

genre: angst/fluff/smut || dance captain!hoseok, bad boy!au, uni!au

pairing: reader x hoseok;

length: 6.7k;

synopsis: Jung Hoseok was once the sweetheart of the school, the dance captain whom every girl, including you, can’t help but fall head over heels for. But like the force of the ever-glowing sun, everything that rises must also set. A year of inactivity later and he’s now the school’s resident bad boy. You’re a firm believer of allowing the past be the past, and yet you can’t help but wonder where the risen sun has gone into hiding—because perhaps its shadows have out-shined its own radiance.

“You’re going out on another date with him tonight?!”

Junghwa’s louder than necessary exasperation renders you speechless. You shoot her a death glare, jaw slacking open to mirror her own gaping mouth; while she gapes at you for your recent absence from your weekly movie nights only to reappear with news of the boy you had been bad-mouthing just a few weeks ago, you glare at her in utter shock over her plans to announce your relations with the infamous player, Jung Hoseok, to the entire class―half of whom you don’t even know. In a panic to cover her tendency to spill even more, both you and Hani turn to hush her while the rest of the class remains unusually―albeit not surprisingly, for nearly everyone is on the brink of failing―fixated on your professor.

“How much louder can you yell?” you hiss, ignoring the pout adorning her lips as she reclines into her seat. “Are you trying to get us kicked out of class?”

“No…” she mumbles and crosses her arms. “But I can’t believe you didn’t tell us about all… this. You and Hoseok, I mean.”

The truth in Junghwa’s remark strikes you to your core. She’s right. It’s been two weeks since you had last spent your Friday nights with your two best friends. After Hoseok had barged into your house to nurse you back to health, your cold had quickly dissipated and that only encouraged Hoseok to take you out even more often to share his favorite pastimes, consequently taking time away from your friends. And you should’ve told them about your recent meetups with Hoseok and why you had to skip out on several movie nights with them for the sake of preventing your friend or pretend boyfriend―you aren’t even sure what to call him―from confronting your friends when he intrudes your house without prior warning, but you knew the day those two opposing worlds clash is the day all hell sets loose.

You wouldn’t even know what to do with Hoseok if your friends were to disapprove of him; it’s not that you don’t want to distance yourself from him, but the more you consider the benefits of your bet, the more you try to convince yourself to take this one last chance to move on from your unresolved crush on the ex-dance captain… or at least that’s what you tell yourself, because the more days that pass by, the fonder you become of the current Hoseok. It’s not that you like him—no, it can’t be that, but there’s something about him that pulls you in, that intrigues you, especially now that you suspect him of remembering exactly who you are.

And while you treasure your friendship over whatever your relations with Hoseok are, you loathe the idea of choosing one over the other.

Hani notices the fallen expression of yours as you slump into your chair in deep thought before interjecting herself, “Junghwa… I’m sure Y/N has a reason for not telling us earlier. Plus, we’re still holding our usual movie nights―just on Thursdays. She hasn’t forgotten about us, right Y/N?”

“Huh,” you utter in response, brows raising at Hani’s watchful gaze, “oh, yeah, for sure. I’d never just toss you guys away like that. I just… I need a few more weeks to figure this all out.”

Figure out whether her remembers exactly who you are in the first place.

“Okay, fine. But what exactly are you figuring out?” Junghwa inquires, leaning in with her head propped in her cupped hands. “I just don’t get it. You despise Hoseok, don't you? You were just complaining to us about how much he's changed! So why are you still hanging out with him? Are you guys even dating?”

Your eyes stay glued to your lap where your hands fidget with the hem of your―or rather, his―sweater, her question echoing your very own which stirs you awake at night. “...no.”

“Usually I’d advise you to ignore Junghwa, but she actually makes a good point,” Hani glances between the two of you and tilts her head in confusion. “You don’t actually like him, do you? Or at least... not who he is now?”

“No, I don’t,” you don’t hesitate to say, eyes glued to your fiddling thumbs when you recall how someone so sweet and dedicated could become the cocky player you know now. It irritates you how quickly and profusely Hoseok would shun his previous reputation as the dance captain, but the one thing that irks you even more is how he had suggested the bet so eagerly―as if he was confident you’d twirl right into the palm of his hands like countless girls had done before. “I’m not that naive.”

“Okay, good,” Junghwa huffs, slumping into her chair and mumbling, “I don’t want to beat up any more boys unless I have to.”

You snort, “you don’t have to beat up any boy.”

“No,” she blurts, bolting to sit upright, “I have to if they hurt my best friend.”

“Aw, I guess our Junghwa really can be sweet sometimes,” you sarcastically quip, eliciting a scoff from Junghwa and a giggle from Hani. Hearing your friends’ abundant support always assured you in times when you doubted yourself, and it warms your heart to know if you really did end up broken hearted by this eerily charming bad boy―something which you tell yourself otherwise every night recently―your friends would still be one step behind to catch you when you fall. Amidst your conversation, every student in the class begins shuffling papers and shoving binders into their bags not even a split second after the professor’s dismissal. Following with the crowd, you begin packing with a reassured smile adorning your lips, “alright, thank you then. I’ll try to keep your warning in mind.”

Slinging your backpack over your shoulders, you grab your cup of coffee for the evening and wave the pouting, puppy-eyed Junghwa goodbye, snickering at her overly concerned expression when Hani calls out to you, “be careful! Don’t blindly believe everything he says!”

“Alright, alright,” you laugh at Hani’s remark, slowly backing away from the cinched brows and frowns plastered all over your friends’ faces.

“You really don’t have to do this. There are plenty of boys out there, Y/N! Just call me and I’ll hook you up in no time, mm?” Hani desperately consoles you last minute.

“You sound like I’m heading off to war or something. And I’m not doing this because I’m a desperate woman,” you snort, scoffing until you wrap your head around the true reason why you’re so allured by this bet of yours with Hoseok. Why are you so entitled to winning this bet? Because you believe in yourself? Because you truly believe there’s no possible way for you to fall for the changed boy you had once been smitten, and consequently crestfallen, over? Why are you so enticed by this bet? Seeing how your two friends raise a brow at you, patiently waiting for the second half of your sentence, or at least an explanation as to why you’re doing this in the first place, you part your lips and utter much softer than you expected, “...I’m doing it because I want to tie up loose ends and finally get over him.”

Junghwa and Hani glance at each other, lips down-turned when they silently decipher whatever you had just uttered before the latter looks up to give you a nod and a warm smile, “alright, just don’t confuse your feelings for the past him with the current him.”

You scoff and roll your eyes, “psh, feelings for him? I didn’t even like him that much. I just said he was really cute and sweet… that’s all―”

―you pause when you notice Hani and Junghwa’s deadpanned expressions, brows raised and eyes completely wary of your lies.

“Okay, maybe I did,” you mumble, clutching onto your cup as you avert your head to the empty side of the classroom. “But… I’m over that… or at least almost over that. It’s been a year now. I’m not stupid enough to be all hung up over some guy in my past. He’s changed, and so have I. I just need some closure, that’s it―”

―your phone interjects you with a buzz from the back pocket of your jeans.

Your friends snort at what they claim to be your never ending excuses―something that you have been apparently spewing since they had discovered your crush on the dance captain last year. Biting down on your lips to stop you from defending yourself from such accusations, and thus, furthermore proving their argument, you reach into your pocket to take a quick glimpse at your brightly lit phone screen.

Speak of the devil; just seeing his name on your phone screen renders the skip of your heart.

Hoseok, my beloved [7:35 PM] You haven’t forgotten about our date tonight, have you?

Hoseok, my beloved [7:36 PM] Knowing you, you probably have. Doesn’t matter. I’ll be over in fifteen.

Hoseok, my beloved. Scoffing, you can’t help but roll your eyes at how quickly he had sneakily changed his contact name on your phone the night he had brought you porridge and discovered said atrocity; and despite the twitch in your hands that itched to playfully, albeit purposely, smack him in the arm like you had gotten used to in the past week, anyone would be a fool not to notice the smile creeping its way onto your lips while butterflies fluttered in your stomach. It’s been awhile since you had felt like this―a year, in that very dance studio, to be precise.

“What what what?” Hani blurts out, her worries overflowing as they tumble from her lips. “Who is it? Is it that damn player again?”

“Alright, I have to go,” you chuckle, whirling around to skip towards the classroom door, “I’ll see you later!”

“Hey!” Junghwa yells after you. “Remember, don’t fall for him or you’re losing the bet and you’ll never find out why he quit!”

Laughing to yourself and figuring the main intent behind Junghwa’s remark is linked with her wariness regarding Hoseok, you wave your hands without a glance back over your shoulders.

“I won’t fall for him, don’t worry,” you chortle before muttering to yourself and shaking your head, “...at least not for who he is now.”

Usually, you’d let bygones be bygones, but when you’re dealing with boys like him, boys like Jung Hoseok, you know even the smallest of details can end up in the worst heartbreaks possible. This is the boy whom had supposedly used you for his own advances on his unreciprocated crush on Keiko. This isn’t the boy you had once fallen for. You just have to remind yourself of that every so often, and you won’t have to worry over falling for that deceiving, albeit nearly identical, mask of his bygones.

-

In fifteen, he said.

Rolling onto your right side, you pull the collar of his hoodie over your lips as you lie in bed and pull out your phone.

8:15 PM―he’s nearly half an hour late; he's the one intruding your private time and inviting himself over to your house more than once, and he dares to make you wait this long? And why does each passing second elicit such an impatient groan from you, each tick of the clock tugging at your heart, when you supposedly don't even want him here? So why are you still wrapped up in your blankets, face buried and body enveloped in his sweater, and consciously waiting for him to march through your front door like he always does?

A buzz comes rippling through the bed, your head pressed against the vibrating mattress, and you nearly fall to the ground when you scramble to your side to grab your phone, expecting a certain someone's name only to be disappointed once again.

Jung Hoseok just posted a photo for the first time in a while.

jung_hoesuck: night vibes.

Your jaw drops when the notification pops onto your screen only to slack open even wider when your thumb instinctively taps the appalling update; and surely, there he is, dressed up in skinny black jeans, belt half done, white muscle top peeking underneath a black bomber, and what appears to be a lighter colored snapback and sneakers underneath the black and white filter. A scoff leaves your lips as your hands grip your phone tighter than ever and your eyes nearly bore into the screen itself for staring at the photo with such intensity.

First, he invites himself over to your house without any reasonable prior notice, and now, he’s taking his time to update his social media when you rushed over here, delayed your night out with the girls, and waited for his more than late arrival. But as much as you’d like to slander Hoseok and his update appearance on his long abandoned social media, you can’t help but find the signature smug look of his half smirk as he bites his bottom lip,  glimpsing dimly into his phone screen which captures him in the mirror from head to toe, more than enticing. You mentally slap yourself and begin mumbling words of disatisfaction when you catch yourself checking him out through the post he had leisurely taken at the expense of his delayed arrival and your bated breath.

God, the boy may have mouth-watering looks and fawn worthy charms, but your dedication to remind yourself of the truth remains unwavered. You repeatedly remind yourself: that’s all he has going for him. While the past him was humble, admirable, and charming in his own ways as the sweetheart of the school, the pull of your heartstrings between now and then differs. You don’t feel the least bit attracted to Hoseok, you tell yourself, and even if you do, it’s all based upon lust and a desire to find the boy from within.

Sooner or later, you find yourself scrolling through his page. It wasn’t until tonight’s notification―which you’re more than relieved popped up before Hoseok arrives, if he arrives, that is―that you recall having followed his public account back a year ago when you felt obliged to check in every once or so often to keep your promise to yourself and admire the dance captain from afar, afraid to dive in head first with the mess of your insecurities regarding the all so perfect Keiko.

But ever since then, you’ve forgotten how drastically he’s changed, all which is reflected his scroll of pictures. While most of his current theme retains a sense of mystery, black and dark with descriptions as vague and brief as possible, his past page would be filled with pictures of the dance studio, worn out sneakers, new and sheepish members whom you’re sure was only there for the boy standing in between the two, and lengthy paragraphs to express his thanks for those who supported him in the most recent dance showcase. But now, all of that has changed. You find yourself staring at the end of his page, crestfallen as your stomach drops when you notice he had deleted every single picture since his days in the club―no behind the scenes, no smiles, no gym bag, no nothing. Everything had changed including his atrocious username, and even if you wanted to revisit the old days as an escape from the current troublemaker, you can’t. And the very fact that the boy you’re in search for is completely wiped off seemingly the entire school’s minds and shunned by the own beholder scares you.

Are you the only one who remembers?

And now that you’re on this topic, how are you going to convince him to attend dance camp? Should you ask him about what he had said that one night? Does he still recall who you are from back in the studio at night, a night you thought was special enough to remain unforgotten for the both of you? What about his relations to Keiko now? And then? Are you really just a pawn, a strategy for him to obtain his true desires for Keiko? With all these questions in mind, there really is no doubt you must consistently remind yourself to be wary of such a boy clouded by unknown motives and not wear your heart on your sleeve like you did for the past him―

“Y/N, baby, are you home?”

Your eyes snap wide open when you hear the familiar voice of Hoseok’s singing in the distance. Great, now you’re even hallucinating about him… or so you think. Because when the shuffles of his footsteps thumps closer and closer to your bedroom, a strife of panic strikes you to pull the bed sheets over your head and your unmade hair thrown messily into a bun. It’s not that you’re afraid to show him you in your natural state, rather, it’s the sweater―his sweater―that you’re wearing which you had totally forgotten about; just imagining the smug look on his face when he sees you wrapped up in his clothes in bed is enough to coerce you into locking yourself away from society for the rest of eternity.

The door squeaks open and you can hear him snort. You can’t quite see him, but you can hear him clearly. His soft, yet slightly heavier breathing than most, his siffling clothes as he adjusts his weight from one leg to the other, and his mere presence enough to send your heart racing and your cheeks burning.

“We’re not playing this game again, are we?” he laughs. “Mind telling me why you’re all buried underneath blankets again?”

“Well, mind telling me why you’re nearly an hour late?” you retort, popping your head out just enough to meet his concerned yet baffled grin. Scanning him up and down, you find him decked out in a gray beanie, baggy white tee, and slim fitting gray sweatpants―completely different outfit than what you were just goggling at earlier. “So you even took the time to change out of your outfit before coming here.”

“What?” he quirks a brow before sudden realization flickers through his eyes. “Ohh, you saw my post? You were so worried that you even checked my page? Aw, babe, if you missed me that much, you should’ve just texted me!”

Your jaw slacks open in disbelief as you scoff, “I did not miss you. In fact, I was even hoping you would bail me tonight.”

“Then why’d you check my IG?”

“I didn’t. I got a notification you updated.”

He smirks, one brow raising as he buries his hands into his pockets, “oh, so you follow me?”

A breath gets caught in your knotted throat. Damn, he really is perceptive.

“...fuck off,” you mumble, plopping your head back into the blankets. “I can’t believe you left me waiting here for an hour. It would’ve been better if you just didn’t show up at all.”

“Oh c’mon, babe,” Hoseok coos. “I’m sorry for being late, but I was busy getting something.”

He takes a step forward, and the beat of your heart hammers once against your chest before you roll farther away until you’re wrapped in your blankets like a burrito on the other side of your bed.

Ignoring his soft chuckle, you take a deep breath in a vain attempt to slow down your pulse. “Yeah? What were you busy getting?”

“Wow, do you really not trust me?” he chortles, sighing before rustling what sounds like a plastic bag. “I was out buying you some heat pads, but I didn’t realize how long it would take. Your hands are always cold and you’re always shivering when we go out, so I figured I’d be a good, dutiful boyfriend and care for my ungrateful wifey.”

Damn, he’s a smooth talker too. But can you really trust him? After everything he’s said and done? After knowing there’s a high possibility he had only asked you out for the sake of invoking jealousy upon Keiko’s half?

“...I don’t believe you,” you mumble, heart nearly stopping and lungs failing to expand when you hear Hoseok climbing onto your bed and you feel his knees sinking into the mattress along with you. You’re just barely able to squeak, “...then how’d you take that photo?”

“If it helps, I took that photo weeks ago. You can even check on my phone,” he chortles, continuing when you fail to respond. “I hadn’t updated in awhile. My follower count was falling, and I wasn’t getting as many DMs as usual.”

You scoff in disbelief, “actually, that doesn’t help. I could’ve gone without that last part.”

“Ooh, my girl’s a jealous one. I can delete it if you want,” he suggests, light-heartedly laughing when you roll farther into the bed. “Hey, I’m the one who keeps reaching out to you. You’re the one who rejects my offers.”

“No, I’m not jealous. And I’ve never rejected any of your offers.”

“Really? So can I stay the night?”

“No.”

“See,” he chuckles. “Now, let’s get my baby out of those blankets before she suffocates to death, alright?”

“Just wait in the living room and I’ll be out in a minute,” you clutch a fistful of his sweater, your chest nearly exploding any second now.

“No… I don’t think so. It’s pretty easy to spot liars, Y/N, and quite obviously, you’re hiding something from me,” he sing-songs. Bulls-eye. He practically knows you like the back of his hand. He places a hand on your waist and your eyes widens… in shock? Excitement? Annoyance? You’re not quite sure, but there’s no way of denying the fluttering butterflies in your stomach. “C’mon, what is it? Are you naked under there or something? Did I walk in on a private session?”

“W-What?” you nearly yell at his implications.

“Hm, guess not then,” he hums, and the tension within silence ensues for a few seconds before he quips, “but I am interested in what’s underneath this.”

And without another second to waste, he begins unrolling you from the depths of your blanket. Everything happens in a blur, and the next thing you know you’re staring up at Hoseok with wide, doe-like eyes. And he stares back at you. Hair just barely sweeping his forehead as he peers down at you from above, hands beside either side of your head, sun-kissed skin and tips of his brown hair glowing in the light hanging from the ceiling like an eclipse dawning upon you before your very eyes. The smug smirk adorning his lips only worsens the skip of your heart.

His warm hands wrap around what he had correctly predicted to be your cold hands, pulling you up onto the ground as you stumble forward into his equally snug chest.

“Hm… not exactly what I had hoped, but I guess seeing you in my sweater again isn’t too bad at all,” he lowly observes. With your eyes shut tight and your head on his chest, the thumping of his heart making itself known on your forehead, you push him away before storming out of the room. “What? Is it my scent? Do you really like the sweater? Or do you just really miss me when I’m gone?”

“None!” you exasperate, marching into your kitchen. “I already washed the sweater.”

And you don’t know if it’s just you and your wild imaginations, however, his scent still manages to remain latched onto the sweater akin to how the memories of that night remains etched into the back of your mind… you just chose to leave that part out.

“Then do you want my t-shirt this time?” he cackles, following closely behind.

“No! We’re not going over this again!” you’re baffled by his constant remarks, confused as to whether they’re his attempts at flirting or his desire to tease you. Whirling around, he nearly bumps right into you when you stop in the midst of your tracks. He raises a brow at your sudden change of pace. “So where do you want to go tonight?”

“We’re going out tonight?” he questions.

“I mean, don’t we always? You always drag me out for your wild shenanigans,” you retort, knitting your brows when you see the quizzical look on his face. Glancing yourself up and down, you suddenly feel more self conscious than ever―something you only experience around him lately, not necessarily in the bad way, but in a way which you wish you could impress him when you’re competing against all those girls fawning over the bad boy around school. “What? Do I look like a mess?”

“No,” he quickly denies. “I was only worried about my presentation. You look fine. Great, even.”

“You?” you snort. “Doesn’t matter even if you just got out of bed, girls would still faint in your path.”

“Maybe,” he shrugs, looking away to walk past you and grab some pots from your cabinet―knowing your house inside and out after countless visits. “But they aren’t used to seeing me like this. They only like seeing me dressed up and poised like how my reputation goes.”

Frowning, you cross your arms, “...and is that the real you? Which boy are you really? The one standing before me now or the one notorious bad boy in school?”

Hoseok fills the pot halfway before placing it on the stove and turning his head to peer down at you. A good ten seconds of silence passes prior to his calculated response.

“The former.”

The… former? Such a particular yet general term that you even find yourself questioning the clarity of his answer. When he says former, does he mean the former persona you had crushed on or does he mean―

“―who you see right now, that’s who I really am,” he says, examining your state of confusion before turning back to grab two packs of ramen out from his plastic bag. “Do you like who I am right now?”

“Huh?”

“Do you like who I really am?” he questions without looking up at you.

Something tells you to answer carefully, as if this question weighs more than it appears upfront. But your stubbornness to see the old Hoseok, the crush you have yet to let go, overshadows your reluctance when the words slip from your lips, “...no.”

“I shouldn’t have expected anything less,” he says softly, chuckling.

“Hey, Hoseok…” you subconsciously call out for him, his dark eyes lifting to gaze into yours. “Do you remember me from somewhere else?”

He simply quirks a brow. It’s now or never, even if you’re risking your dignity to fulfill your curiosity. You have to know what you mean, or rather, meant to him.

“I mean, a while ago you mentioned something about me looking familiar―”

“―I don’t quite recall that,” he chortles. Without giving you a chance to follow up, he turns and leans against the kitchen counter with his signature smirk, “now, let me cook up some mean, authentic, gourmet ramen for us tonight.”

It’s quite odd how relieved you are when he switches the topic. Do you question his validity of his answer? A part of you tells you there’s something off about him tonight, but you don’t dare question it. You’d rather blindly believe in him than hurt yourself further by indulging in the irreplaceable past akin to the dimming light at the end of the tunnel. Sighing and rolling your eyes, you cross your arms and shrug, “alright, Chef Jung. Do show me how much better you can cook every college student’s basic dish.”

He turns his head and frowns at you before tossing the bags at your head, toppling them to the floor as you stand there bewildered. “I was just joking,” he scoffs. “You think I, Chef Jung, would cook you some lame dish anyone can make? I only bought these because I saw you were running low on food.”

“How’d… you know…?” you barely manage to say.

“I come here every few days, how would I not know?” he chuckles, grabbing some more groceries from his bag. “I’d cook you something healthy every day if I could, but I think you’d start getting annoyed by me. At least eat something when I’m gone, even if it’s junk.”

“You know how to cook…?”

“Yeah,” he briefly answers.

Cocking your head, you decide to investigate further, “how?”

“Back then, I had to cook myself meals for dance practice every day,” he equivocates. You can’t tell if he’s reminiscing out of force or out of bittersweet nostalgia. He glimpses at you through the corner of his eyes, “hey, can you grab me an egg or two? I think I saw a few left in your fridge.”

“Hm? Yeah,” you mumble, turning around to walk towards the fridge.

There most definitely is something off about him tonight. You’ve only really known him for a month, but that’s longer than you’ve ever known the ex dance captain and that’s enough for you to know that something is up. Is tonight the right time to ask? While your remaining questions regarding his relations to Keiko are questions you intend to ask when you’re fully prepared for its repercussions, there really is no time left until boot camp begins next week. As much as you’re irked by the three musketeers and their persistence to bring their dance captain back, you did indeed make a promise.

“Hey, Hoseok…”

“Yeah?”

You take a deep breath and sigh, “are you really not going to attend the boot camp?”

He pauses in the midst of preparing the ingredients sprawled across the tabletop. “Is there a certain reason why you want me to?”

“I just…” you gulp. If you really want to convince him against his own will, then you should at the very least be truthful. “I just want to see you dance again.”

Damn it, Y/N, stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. It’s too dangerous around boys like him.

“Well,” he carefully contemplates, “are you going?”

Looking up and turning your back on the fridge door, you lock eyes with his peering ones―ones void of any signs of emotion other than the motive to amass more information for his advantage, something he does quite well―and shake your head, “no, I can’t dance.”

He snorts, “then how are you going to see me dance? Cause I don’t plan on dancing again after camp.”

“I’ll go if you go.”

“And what do I get from this?” Hoseok bargains with his usual give-and-take virtues.

“Fine, then let’s just end this bet now,” you say out of frustration.

You don’t mean it, but the words slip before you’re able to retrieve them once again. Maybe this is for the better anyways. Based on this conversation and the last few night’s with him alone, only someone dense would deny the fact that you’re teetering between the edge of a cliff and sanity. If you delve in any further, you know you’d fall in too deep. The only reason you started this bet in the first place is to obtain closure and move on from the past, and yet before you knew it, you find yourself already treading in dangerous waters.

But the boy only raises a brow.

“You said we don’t need any time constraints to our bet, right?” you state, breath shaking and lips quivering. He cocks his head and knits his brows in concentration as you continue, “well, if you’re not going to attend the camp, then I’d like to end the bet here.”

“And how is that fair?” he deadpans―no sort of emotion detected in the rasp of his voice.

“Nothing’s fair, Hoseok. Some things just don’t make sense,” you say, recalling the irrational behavior of your panicking pulse and your wrenching chest at this very moment. “I don’t like you right now, so I guess that means I win the bet. So why did you quit―”

“―but you’re not considering my side of the bet. How do you know how I feel for you?” he firmly states.

And your heart nearly stops.

“W-What?” you stammer, eyes widening and blood running cold. “It doesn’t matter, because either way―”

“―yes, either way I have to tell you, but judging by the look on your face right now,” he smirks, “what you said before doesn’t hold the whole truth. So no, we can’t end the bet here unless it’s clear how we feel for each other.”

You scoff, “I do not like you. I’m telling the complete truth.”

Had you ticked him off? Or did he tick you off? The fiery within you grows each second he proves you wrong, because even you can’t deny the validity of his remark. You hate yourself for dancing right into the palm of his hands. But as long as you acknowledge it, you can always alter your course. You won’t fall for him just yet… or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

“Right, grab me the eggs, will you?” he says before turning around to gather his ingredients once more.

Mumbling to yourself in frustration, you open the fridge and glance through the brightly lit storage. Scanning through the shelves, you find nearly everything empty―just as he had claimed―and your feet begin to freeze as the rush of cold air brushes against your bare legs. Without turning around, you call out to him, “I don’t think I see any eggs―”

―your words halt when a pair of warm hands place themselves on your waist.

Air gets caught in your knotted throat, and you swear your heart nearly leaps out from within, especially when you feel the warmth of his chest radiating against your back.

“You said you couldn’t dance, right?” he whispers, his lips grazing your heated earlobes. “I highly doubt that. You just don’t want to go with Jimin and them. You don’t want to go with anyone but me, do you?”

“That’s stupid…” you’re barely able to say under your breath.

“Alright, prove it to me then,” he then whirls you around until your eyes are met with his own mischievous ones.

Wrapping one arm around your waist, he pulls your hips right against his and closes the distance between the two of you, while the other hand entangles with your right―tight and snug like two missing puzzle pieces. He then sways you side to side, humming to the beat of an old yet romantically classic tune.

Burying your head into his chest, you can feel his heart pacing in syncopation with yours. But it doesn’t resonate of the same panic, the same thrill, the same fear as yours. It’s calm and poetic and indecipherable, like a perfect mix between the old dance captain and the new mysterious boy of this demeanor they call Jung Hoseok.

Your cheeks burn bright red. You can’t feel anything other than your trembling hands he holds tightly onto, your knees go weak and threaten to buckle right underneath, and your eyes can’t see anything other than his white tee, his sweatpants, and the two pairs of feet rocking underneath.

“Can you stop hum―”

―but then he takes a step back, holds your hand high above your head, and twirls you.

Your feet scramble to catch up, your mind spins, your vision blurs, and the whole world turns upside down. Suddenly, you feel the warmth of his arm wrapped firmly on the small of your back until all you can see is his face hovering dangerously over yours.

“See? You can dance,” he says, a corner of his lips lifting into a lopsided grin. Pulling you back upright, you hold his hands for a few more seconds to stabilize yourself to the new center of gravity. You’re just about to scold him for his antics when he interjects, “fine, I’ll lead dance camp, but only under one condition.”

Glancing up from the ground, you find him staring right back at you. “What is it?”

“I’ll go... if you kiss me,” he smirks.

“Are you kidding me?” you gape. “First you nearly drop me when I said I can’t dance, and now you’re telling me to kiss you?”

“Just one,” he offers.

Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook’s pleas echo in the back of your mind as you glare at Hoseok, eyes subconsciously trailing to his smooth, tempting lips before flickering back to the glimmer in his dark chocolate orbs.

“...fine,” you mutter, kissing your two fingers―index and middle―and smacking it onto his own lips.

“Really? Is this how virgins kiss or something?” he states in lack of enthusiasm, removing your fingers from his lips. He then takes a step towards you, thus forcing you to take one back. “Do you really want me to show you how it’s done, Y/N?”

Another step forward, another step back.

Before you know it, your back hits the kitchen counter. Hoseok gently places both hands on either side of you, trapping you between him and the counter and leaving you with nowhere to escape to. He leans in, his mint scented breath tickling your skin as his nose brushes your tip and his lips just barely graze against your own. And through it all, you know he’s watching you through those lidded, intent eyes of his. If you really want him to attend dance camp, then maybe you should give in. Maybe this isn’t too bad anyways. It’s just one kiss. It’s not exactly like you don’t want it after all.

So you close your eyes.

And the second the boy before your eyes turns from the sun, the moon, and the mystical eclipse, and all you can see is black, the warmth on every inch of your body dissipates into the thin air.

“You see, Y/N, there really are only two tips I can give you in regards to kissing,” Hoseok says, his voice more distant than expected. Peeping one eye open, your heart drops when you find him standing back upright instead of towering over you. What is this feeling of disappointment? Shouldn’t you be glad? “One, you have to have consent. A kiss isn’t fun if it’s forced.”

“And…?” you utter, heart pounding so fast you think you might faint any minute now.

“And I can check that off my list,” he remarks, a smug smile tugging on one corner of his lips as he takes one step back and turns his back on you.

Was he talking about how you closed your eyes?

Your hands grip on the counter behind you when your knees nearly collapse onto the floor. Your cheeks blaze a flush of bright red, sheer embarrassment plastered on your face. Knitting your brows, you―or rather, your body―decides you need more. No, you want more.

“And second…?”

“Second,” he pauses, each tick of the clock agonizingly slow, “is the element of surprise.”

Then he turns on his heels. His hand cups your left cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and his other rests on the nape of your neck. His lips hover an inch over yours, waiting for your eyes to flutter close―which they do―before smirking once again and crashing his lips into yours.

He’s warm, plush, and most certainly an experienced kisser. He pushes with just the right pressure, he tells you he wants more and yet he’s willing to play hard for it through gestures absent of words, and his caressing hands and the stroke of his thumb across your cheek signify his gentle and caring way to handle his girl. No, he doesn’t need to stick his tongue down your throat or groan like man in desperate need to tame his hormones. No, all he needs is the simple touch of his tender lips and soft hands to melt you into a puddle of emotions.

Placing his hands on your hips, he lifts you onto the kitchen counter until your back and head presses up against the wall and the both of you are so out of breath that you’re coerced into parting from his tempting lips.

The both of you struggle to breathe, chests heaving and lungs gasping for air when he removes his beanie and puts it snugly over your head―something you would’ve rebelled against if it weren’t for how dazed and breath taken you were by what had just taken place before you. Running a hand through his freed, bronze hair, he peers down and grins at you from above.

“Now that’s what I call a kiss,” Hoseok chuckles. “Alright, deal. I’ll go.”

Shit, what was the deal again?

[cogentranting]

Arrow 1x05 Rewatch

. Oliver’s little smirk when Lance is interrogating him. I live for it. 

“You can speak to Mr. Queen’s attorney when he gets here.” He? Where’s Jean Loring? 

“He also thinks I dress up in a mask and a green hood and shoot people. With arrows.” The audacity of Oliver. 

“she knows me better than anyone. She knows I could never be this guy.” OLIVER. I mean. Again. the audacity. Especially because he reveals later that he planned this. That he WANTED to get arrested. And he just has this whole plan revolving around this front of “Laurel knows me so well. She’s the only one who really knows me and she knows I’m not a killer.” When really the crux of the plan is how much Laurel does NOT know him and he plans on exploiting that. Amazing. 

“He raised her to do the right thing and that includes representing an innocent man.” Okay. So. My indiscriminate glee with the irony and Oliver’s attitude aside. This whole set up is really interesting. It reminds me actually of the moment in the season 5 flashbacks when he goes to see Galina (Taiana’s mother) and lies to her and manipulates her with this nice persona which is actually at that point more a mask than his Kapiushon identity. And that scene has always been really interesting to me because it’s Oliver pretending to be a good man at a time when he’s not, and while he lies a lot and puts on masks throughout the series, that particular aspect of it is fairly unique because it comes at what is basically Oliver’s lowest point (morally). And this episode (1x05) is similar in it bringing out this very manipulative side of Oliver that we don’t see in this way all that often (and remember that moment in 5x17 and this moment in 1x05, are actually very close together chronologically. Somewhere between 2 and 7 months apart.) The idea that Oliver, knowing full well that he is attacking and killing people, gets Laurel involved on the basis of this very emotionally laden appeal, citing their history and the connection they had, especially considering the role that Laurel believing oliver to be more moral than he really was played in Oliver cheating on her, and using not only her perception of him, but the way that him reaching out to her would be perceived... it’s cunning, and it’s effective, and it’s kinda messed up. 

But like.... legally... can Laurel represent her ex-boyfriend who her father arrested?

It’s ALL so calculated to manipulate how people perceive him. Appearing in court without a lawyer until Laurel agrees to do it. Protesting the tracking anklet. Throwing the party. His response to the plea deal. 

Speaking of calculated. Oliver knows what that blue sweater is doing to make his eyes pop. He knows. 

But Malcolm and Walter acting like they have no idea why Quentin would have a grudge against Oliver. LIke come one guys. You know. 

I just. I love the polygraph scene. For so many reasons. 

In the same vein about Oliver manipulating people’s perception of him in this episode, what makes this episode great are the places where it’s unclear even to the audience how much of Oliver’s reactions are genuine and how much is purposefully done to affect how Laurel and Quentin see him. Even in the polygraph scene-- did he get pushed into revealing that he was tortured on the island? Or did he see a way around that answer and reveal it anyway to gain sympathy? Did he actually get hung up on his guilt over Sara’s death (which is of course very real) or did he use that guilt as a way of covering up the answer to “have you ever killed anyone” because he knew he couldn’t beat the polygraph on that one? Did reliving his torture and Sara’s death actually overwhelm him to the point that he had to run out, or was he able to keep those reactions in check but put on the act to convince them?  The same idea is present in the scene later in the episode where he shows Laurel his scars and talks about how damaged he is. And we know that there is intentional manipulation going on because Diggle and Oliver’s conversation at the very end-- “So you lied. Or maybe you just gave her a version of the truth.” “I told her what she needed to hear.”-- and we know that there is truth (Oliver IS damaged, he IS guilt-ridden over Sara’s death, he IS traumatized by the torture he suffered) but we don’t know exactly where the line is between the two. 

I also think that Laurel and Quentin’s different reactions are interesting. When Oliver says that he was tortured, Laurel’s mouth is literally hanging open, she’s so shocked. But Quentin doesn’t react. Unlike Laurel he already knew about the scars so part of it is probably just that he put together that either Oliver was tortured in some capacity or he was horrifically cutting himself. But even if he had forewarning of it, just the idea that at this point he is so broken and angry over Sara’s death that he can look at someone who, even if he never really liked, he’s probably known since Oliver was in jr high. To hear this kid you watched grow up say he was tortured and not even react...

Love how little effort everyone at this party put into the theme

“If you think this is what prison’s like you are in for a rude awakening.” So i think this is mainly a joke because clearly Oliver doesn’t think prison is like his little rave thing. But. I do think that even though Diggle has some sense of what Oliver’s been through, because he still thinks Oliver spent those entire 5 years on the Island, Diggle thinks that Oliver doesn’t have a great sense of the real world. Just the world of the fabulously wealthy and the world of deserted islands. While in reality Oliver actually has spent time in some very different walks of life between Russia and Hong Kong and Hub City. 

“I just don’t like being played. Now you might have gotten used to lying to everyone else in your life but I’m the one guy you don’t lie to.” And here we are with that manipulation motif again. Oliver who at this moment actually has no reason to lie to Diggle, can’t trust enough to actually just present his plan to Diggle. He has to pull strings and manipulate to get him to go along with it. At this point trust is so hard for Oliver that it’s easier to just have a different mask for everybody. 

“I can’t remember the last time that I was in this room.”  “I can. Halloween 2005.”  But that’s 2 years before the Gambit sinking. Why was Laurel not in this room for 2 years prior to  that? she was dating Oliver? this is presumably his room? and if it’s NOT his room then its... just a random one? And why would she even comment on it? 

“There were times that I wanted to die. In the end there was something I wanted more.” The clear implication that Oliver is making is that Laurel was sort of his inspiration to keep going throughout his five years. And I’m not so against the Laurel Oliver ship that I’d deny that that is a factor of Oliver’s motivation during his time there. Particularly during the seasons 1 and 2 flashbacks, and at the very end of season 5 (which, if we understand the story chronologically, is probably the specific moment that Oliver is referring to here-- when he was drugged and in pain and had a gun to his own head and hallucinated Laurel convincing him not to kill himself. Which was only like 2 months prior to this conversation). But Laurel and getting back to her is really only referenced a handful of times throughout the flashbacks. That’s probably in part due to the series moving away from her as the main love interest/female lead. But I think its also a disservice to Oliver as a character to reduced his motivation down to that. Oliver is much more driven by 1. a general will to survive (something that is a dominant trait of his but also often in conflict with his suicidal ideation) 2. a concept in his mind of owing his life to others-- he feels he has to fix his father’s wrongs, he has to protect his mother and sister, he has to come make amends to Laurel etc.-- what he owes to others takes utmost priority (and that’s why often his suicidal thoughts come in this form and also have to be combatted in this form-- he thinks he should die because others would be better off without him, vs he should live because they love/need him) 3. a need to atone for his own sins. Interestingly, I think that even when Laurel is serving as Oliver’s motivation, it’s not as much his love for her driving him as a need to make things right with her (in the flashbacks. In the present in season 1 and somewhat season 2, his love for her is more dominant, and often in conflict with his desire to set things right which is why, especially early on, you get weird back and forth between pushing her away and trying to get close to her). 

“Impressive. you have resolve I didn’t credit you for.” Oliver’s iron will is such a central part of his character and contrary to what a lot of people believe, its not something forged into him on the island. It’s something he starts with. And I wonder what that looked like in his youth? Probably a lot more like season 1 Thea (who has that same iron will). 

This arms dealer looks like a discount Vince Vaughn. 

It hurts my heart to see Quentin and Oliver at odds like this. 

“But if any member of my family so much as gets a papercut... I will burn your entire world to ashes.” I love the Queen family so much. 

Oliver: “Good heart to heart Diggle. I’m gonna go kill someone now.”

[singledarkshade]

Time Masters And Amazons

Summary: Rip is sent to Thermiscrya to retrieve a suspicious pod released by Time Pirates. Author’s Note: It's RipWeek 2021, Day 1: “Time wants to happen” – Time travel is what Legends is all about, but it’s moved away from that lately. What historical or futuristic adventures should Rip have had? This is set in the same universe as my story Rescue. Enjoy                                ********************************************* “Captain Hunter,” Gideon’s voice woke him from his sleep, “You have a communication from the Vanishing Point.”

Stiffly rolling out of bed, Rip pulled on his clothes, pausing briefly to throw some water on his face so he could wake a little before heading up to the bridge.

“Captain Hunter,” Time Master Dereham stated when Rip told Gideon to open the comms, “We have a mission for you.”

Frowning Rip replied, “Ma’am, I was promised a few days of rest after my last mission.”

A mission where he’d ended up with three broken ribs and a broken arm. Even though Gideon had fixed him, rest was still required to get him back to peak fitness.

“Normally another Captain would be assigned,” Dereham told him, “But this is pertaining to Themyscira. During the apprehension of a group of Time Pirates, they jettisoned a pod which we have tracked to the island. We fear it contains something dangerous and needs to be retrieved. Due to your prior contact with the Amazons, you are the best choice for this mission.”

Nodding Rip noted, “If you send Gideon the details, I will head there once I have an entry point.”

“I have received all required information, Captain,” Gideon told him as Dereham blinked away.

Rip sighed, “Gideon, calculate an entry to Themyscira.”

“We can enter in forty-three minutes,” Gideon reported, “You have enough time to shower, eat breakfast and let Mrs Hunter know you will not make it home for the weekend.”

Rip grimaced, “Unless I manage to finish this mission fast.”

“Forty-two minutes.”

Forty minutes later, Rip was readying the ship to exit the timestream. Dressed and fed, he’d let his wife know about his unexpected mission, unfortunately not getting a chance to talk to his son who was sleeping.

“We are entering the window,” Gideon spoke up.

Rip nodded, “Okay, reconfiguring for entry to Themyscira.”

Due to the cloak that hid the island of the Amazons from the world and a few additional protections provided by the Time Masters, there were only certain windows to enter it from the time stream. Rip had made the trip more than any other Time Master, and thanks to his rescue of the young princess, was welcomed by the Amazons.

Exiting the time stream, Rip smiled to see the island below him, bathed in sunlight with the clear blue sea surrounding it.

“Gideon, see if you can track our pod,” Rip told her, “And then head to the landing zone.”

“I have traced the trajectory,” Gideon reported, “And our presence has been detected.”

Rip chuckled, “I would be worried if it hadn’t.”

Gently landing his ship, Rip undid the restraint and patted the central console before he headed to the cargo bay.

“Captain Hunter,” Queen Hippolyta greeted him as he walked out the ship.

Rip bowed, “Your Majesty.”

Hippolyta smiled, “What do we owe the pleasure? Is it by any chance to do with the falling star last night?”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Rip replied, “And before you ask, I don’t actually know what it is.”

She frowned, “Never a good sign.”

“I’ve traced where it went,” Rip explained, “But thought it best to check in with you first before I try to track it down.”

Hippolyta nodded, “I do appreciate that, Captain. We would not want any of our guards to believe you to be an intruder.”

At her amused smile, Rip chuckled, “Definitely not.”

“Captain Hunter!!” the excited voice of the young princess made Rip smile, as she rushed towards him.

Rip gave a small bow, “Your Highness.”

Diana beamed and wrapped her arms around his waist to hug him. Rip gently wrapped one arm around her shoulders briefly before letting her go.

“I have a present for you,” Rip said, smiling at the look of surprise in Diana’s eyes. He slid his hand into his pocket and found the small velvet bag, “I hope you like it.”

The little princess opened the bag and tipped the contents into her hand, letting out a soft gasp at the silver chain with the three small pendants on it.

“It’s a charm bracelet,” Rip explained, “My wife, Miranda made it for you.”

“She made it for me?” Diana gasped, holding her arm out so her mother would put it on.

Rip nodded, “Do you like it?”

Diana beamed, “I do. Please tell her I love it.”

“Captain Hunter and I need to discuss his reason for being here,” Hippolyta told her daughter, “You must return to your studies.”

Diana glanced at Rip.

“I will not leave without saying goodbye,” Rip promised.

With a grin Diana left with her current tutor, Rip turned to the Queen of the Amazons.

“It was a lovely gift,” Hippolyta noted as she started him towards the palace, “Thank your wife from me as well.”

“Miranda is very artistic and jewellery making is her new passion,” Rip explained, “Since our son, Jonas isn’t interested in the pieces she makes, Miranda hoped Diana would be.”

Hippolyta smiled, “I think the fact that it came from your wife made it even more special for her.”

 The palace of the Amazons was somewhere Rip would have loved to spend time exploring, he knew Miranda would want to explore it too, but he was sure the guards could snap him in two without breaking a sweat if he went wandering.

“Captain?” the Queen’s voice broke through his musing.

“Of course,” Rip said, walking over to the map on the wall beside her, “According to Gideon, the pod crashed somewhere here,” he pointed to the mountain range, “I am hoping you can spare a guide to get me to the location.”

Hippolyta mused before replying, “I know that section of the island better than anyone so I shall guide you.”

Rip stared at her surprised, “Are you sure, Your Majesty? I did not expect you would…”

“This is something of great importance,” she cut him off, “I prefer to deal with it myself.”

“Then I’m honoured,” Rip replied.

Hippolyta smiled slightly before noting, “You may wish to change.”

Looking at his clothes, Rip nodded, “I also need to collect some things from the ship to ensure I can retrieve the pod safely.”

“We leave in one hour.”

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

 “Gideon,” Rip said as he checked the equipment that he was taking with him including his pistol and a sword, “Have your scans revealed anything I should worry about?”

“Other than the trek, the heat and the fact you will have to look competent in front of the Queen of the Amazons?” Gideon asked.

Rolling his eyes, Rip ignored her, “Please connect to the courier and continue your scans. Let me know if there is any change in the pod.”

“Yes, Captain.”

As he headed out, Rip paused seeing the guards outside the ship, “Gideon, no teasing the Amazons.”

“If you wish,” Gideon replied, sounding slightly annoyed.

Resting his hand on the bulkhead before he left, “I’ll be back soon.”

“Be careful, Captain,” Gideon told him.

Nodding he walked down the ramp to where his guide was waiting to take him to the Queen.

 “So, Captain,” Hippolyta said as they started along the trail towards their destination, “Have you ever spent any time within this type of environment?”

Rip shrugged, “We were trained in basically all possible situations. I have done exercises where I’ve had to fend for myself and get back to base in multiple environments. I survived those.”

Hippolyta chuckled, “Well that is good to know. I am assuming you know how to use the sword?”

“One of my specialist weapons,” Rip noted before resting his hand on his pistol, “And I’m not a bad shot.”

The Queen laughed, “Hopefully you will not need to use either weapon, Captain.”

They continued in silence for a while reaching the edge of the forest. Rip paused and checked his courier.

“Gideon,” he called, “Has there been any changes?”

“I am reading a stronger signal,” Gideon said in his ear, “It is possible the pod has been disturbed.”

“Captain?” Hippolyta asked.

Rip grimaced, “Gideon believes the pod has been found. Do you have any patrols in that area?”

The Queen frowned, “No. However it is possible a training group may have entered the area.”

“Gideon,” he said, “Keep me apprised of anything you detect.”

“Of course, Captain.”

Rip turned to the Queen of the Amazons who was waiting for him to finish his conversation, “I believe we should continue.”

She nodded, “The next part of the trail is especially steep. It will be best climbed before we reach the midday sun.”

“Excellent.”

 The sun was beating down on them as they finally reached the summit of the trail into the forest, Rip wiped the sweat from his forehead before he checked his courier.

“The signal is stronger towards the east,” he told the woman standing waiting, “Please tell me it’s an easier walk.”

Hippolyta chuckled, “Going down the path is usually easier.”

Rip took the water she offered him before he grabbed some cereal bars from him pack offering one to the Queen who took it graciously. She suddenly frowned and held up her hand, walking over to a bush behind them she reached in and grabbed something. Rip watched surprised at the familiar girl pulled out who tried to look innocent.

“Diana,” her mother frowned at her, “I am sure I told you not to follow us.”

Diana looked up at her mother with wide eyes, “I wanted to help you and Captain Hunter.”

Hippolyta frowned before turning to Rip, “Excuse us for a moment, Captain.”

She drew her daughter to one side just out of hearing and Rip took a seat on a nearby rock. He hadn’t had the time after his previous mission to recover fully from his injuries, and it was taking a toll.

“Captain,” Gideon spoke up suddenly, “I am detecting an energy spike from the pod and, as it is sending out a signal, identified its origins.”

“Good,” Rip replied before noting the pause, “And bad. Where is it from?”

“Tracadia,” Gideon told him, and Rip swore.

Hippolyta frowned as she walked back to him, “Captain?”

“Gideon has found out where the pod is from,” Rip replied, “And it’s worse than I expected.”

Diana opened her mouth as though to ask a question but slammed it shut at her mother’s sharp look.

“How much worse?” Hippolyta asked.

Rip sighed, “The people this came from are slave traders and use technology to turn people into mindless drones.”

“How?” Diana spoke up.

Her mother frowned but looked at Rip for an answer.

“It’s complicated but basically it sends out a specific tone,” Rip explained, “This turns off the person’s conscious self and allows programming of those affected for specific tasks. If anyone is in the vicinity, they will become enslaved and protect the pod at all costs while it sends out a distress call.”

Hippolyta frowned, “Do you know how to stop it?”

“Yes,” Rip nodded, “If I can get to the pod, I can disable it but…”

“But?” the Amazonian Queen demanded.

“The pod is already sending out a signal,” Rip explained, “Which means that the moment someone gets within the range, they become a drone and it has protection. I would prefer to head back to the Waverider and retrieve additional equipment, but we don’t have time.”

Hippolyta frowned, “Can you get near the pod without being influenced by the signal?”

Rip nodded and tapped his ear, “I have a communicator in my ear that connects me to Gideon in my ship. She can neutralise the signal, but I need to do something for you both.”

“Both?” Diana asked with a smile, wincing when her mother frowned at her.

“At the moment, we don’t know how far the signal is stretching,” Rip explained, “It’s safer for Diana to stay with us.”

Hippolyta frowned before nodding, “I agree.”

“Then I better get to work.”

 Diana bounced nervously as they waited for Rip to finish whatever he was making. She knew she was in trouble following her mother, but her curiosity got the better of her. Rip had visited a few times since he had saved her, but this was the first time he’d come for more than just a quick visit.

“Diana,” Rip motioned her to him, “Okay, I am going to connect this into your ear and clip it in, so it doesn’t fall out.”

She nodded and smiled as Rip brushed her dark hair back from her right ear before placing the strange looking device into her ear. She winced slightly as something pinched her skin.

“Sorry,” Rip said softly, “It’s just connecting to you. Let me test it now.”

Diana nodded.

“Gideon, test please,” Rip called.

“Hello, Princess,” the voice of the Gideon came in her ear, “Can you speak to allow me to know if the communicator is working both ways?”

Diana hesitated not knowing what to say finally deciding on, “Hello, Gideon.”

“It is working perfectly, Captain,” Gideon said, “Princess Diana is now protected.”

Rip smiled and squeezed Diana’s shoulder, “Can you ask your mother to join me?”

Diana nodded and bounced away.

“Gideon,” Rip said as he waited for the Queen to come and get her comm unit, “Any updates?”

“Unfortunately,” Gideon replied, “There are life-signs at the coordinates. The pod now has guardians.”

Rip sighed, “Wonderful.”

Hippolyta joined him and caught the look on his face, “I take it there is bad news and it is a good thing we didn’t return back to your vessel.”

Nodding Rip connected the communicator to her ear, “Precisely.”

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

 Hippolyta motioned them to stop as they reached just outside the caves that Gideon confirmed the pod had been relocated to. There were several of her warriors guarding the entrance and Hippolyta did not want to hurt any of her people, but from what Hunter had told her, they would protect the item at all costs.

“Diana,” she motioned her daughter to her, “For defence only,” she said handing her a sword, “No matter what happens, you stay with Captain Hunter.”

Diana nodded, “Yes, mother.”

Turning to Hunter, she noted, “I will do my best to keep those affected away to give you time to deactivate the signal.”

He nodded, “Be careful of the communicator, if it breaks then you will become one of the drones.”

“It could be a welcome break from ruling,” she replied with a smile, “But I will ensure it is kept intact.”

An amused smile touched the man’s lips before he gently touched Diana’s shoulder and motioned her to follow him. Reaching out Hippolyta squeezed her daughter’s hand before allowing her to leave with the Time Master, knowing he would protect Diana.

 Rip watched the Queen of the Amazons walk towards the entrance of the cavern, instantly the two guards attacked her, and Hippolyta moved the fight away from the cave allowing Rip and Diana to slip inside.

The cool air of the cave surrounded them, and Rip could also feel the pressure from signal relieved when Gideon began to counteract it. Looking around, he found the pod set up on a shelf well above his height.

“Look out,” Diana cried, and Rip turned to find one of the guards of the pod coming towards them.

Rip threw himself one way as Diana rolled the other way, drawing his sword Rip defended himself but knew he had little chance of surviving long against a trained Amazon warrior. Thankfully he got an opening and was able to draw his pistol to stun his attacker, who fell unconscious to the ground.

“Diana,” he said to the girl, “We need to turn off the pod. Can you climb up to that?”

“Easily,” she nodded.

Rip dug into his pocket and pulled out the disruptor he’d made earlier, “Once you’re there I need you to press this onto the pod, anywhere on the body. Then tell Gideon to activate.”

Taking the disruptor, Diana nodded but, before she could move, they were attacked again.

“Go,” Rip snapped at Diana as he managed to stop the sword coming at them with his own.

The little girl dodged around the warriors coming towards them and began to climb. Rip fired a few shots to deter those trying to follow her but by protecting Diana, he left himself open and cried out in pain when a sword slashed across his ribs.

“Rip?” Diana called worriedly.

“Don’t stop,” he replied, using the cave wall to keep upright as he continued to defend himself. Another of the drones attacked and Rip did his best but even as a basic zombie, this was still a trained Amazon warrior, and after a few seconds easily disarmed Rip and stabbed him through the gut. Managing to shoot his assailant, Rip tried to find his sword as he knew until the pod was deactivated, he had to keep fighting.

“Gideon,” he heard Diana call just as he managed to grip the hilt, “Activate.”

The sound of swords dropping echoed around the cavern, and all the Amazons looked around in confusion. Rip sighed in relief and fell back onto the ground.

“Rip!!!!” Diana screamed as Hippolyta appeared above him.

“Hold on, Captain,” the Queen soothed, “You will be fine.”

Rip gripped her hand, “Get me to Gideon,” he breathed before he couldn’t keep the blackness at bay any longer and fell into unconsciousness.

 Hippolyta could see her daughter panic at seeing the man she looked up to unconscious and bleeding on the ground, with a sword sticking out of him. Wrapping her arm around Diana, Hippolyta was about to order her people to get him back to the palace when the voice of Gideon, Hunter’s artificial companion came in her ear.

“Your Majesty,” Gideon stated urgently “Captain Hunter’s injuries are grave, I have sent the JumpShip to your location. If you can take him onboard and return him to the Waverider I will be able to heal his injuries.”

A little unsure, Hippolyta however replied, “Of course.”

Glancing down at her daughter, Hippolyta gently touched her shoulder and moved her back ordering the warriors to carry Hunter outside. Keeping her daughter close, they watched the small vessel land, and the unconscious man was carried inside. The Queen followed on with Diana and entered the ship.

“Gideon,” she said as the door closed behind them.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Gideon replied, “Please all take a seat and hold on.”

Sitting her daughter down, along with the two warriors, Hippolyta gripped the seat as the ship lifted off the ground and sped through the air to where the Waverider sat. The moment they landed Gideon instructed them where to take Hunter. It was an astonishing place, Hippolyta followed Diana who knew where she was going and what she was doing so slid the cuff onto the man’s wrist the moment he was placed on the chair before Gideon could tell them.

“Please remove the sword,” Gideon stated.

Hippolyta rested her hand on the man’s arm comfortingly before pulling the sword from his gut, wincing at the cry that escaped him even unconscious. A green light covered him instantly and he visibly relaxed.

“Thank you,” Gideon stated, “I will have Captain Hunter contact you once he is able to.”

Hippolyta shook her head, “Diana and I will remain here until he wakens.”

“Captain Hunter would not agree,” Gideon told her before conceding, “However if you are determined to remain, then thank you.”

Nodding Hippolyta dismissed her two warriors to return to the palace before she and Diana took a seat to ensure that Hunter would not wake up alone.

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

 Rip woke slowly, he was stiff and felt the need to go back to sleep but if Gideon was waking him then he knew he couldn’t. As he forced his eyes open, Rip was confused to find the Queen of Themyscira looking down him with concern.

“Your Majesty?” he forced out through dry lips.

“Welcome back, Captain,” she smiled at him.

Slowly sitting up, Rip blinked in surprise to find the royal family of the Amazons watching him.

“Gideon?” he called.

“The Queen and Princess Diana refused to leave while you were recuperating,” Gideon explained.

Looking at the mother and daughter who were smiling slightly, he nodded, “Thank you.”

“Well, we wanted to ensure you were healed as Gideon promised,” Hippolyta smiled at him, “Diana was worried.”

Rip smiled at the young girl watching him with wide eyes, “I’m fine. Gideon healed all my injuries and once I get some sleep I will be as good as new.”

“Are you sure?” Diana demanded.

Sliding off the couch he crouched so he was face to face with her, “I promise.” Standing again he looked at the Queen, “What happened to the pod?”

“We brought it to the ship and Gideon had me place it in a cupboard,” she told him.

“I have erected a level 5 shield around the pod, Captain,” Gideon spoke up.

Rip smiled, “Thank you, Gideon,” he turned back to the mother and daughter, “I should get it back to the Time Masters.”

“You’re leaving?” Diana asked sadly.

Rip sighed, “I have a mission to complete but I promise that I will come back another time.”

Diana hugged him and Rip gently patted her back, letting him go Diana stepped back to her mother.

“Thank you for your help, Your Majesty,” Rip bowed to her.

Hippolyta inclined her head to him, “And thank you for yours, Captain. It was a pleasure to work with you. The next time you visit, I hope it is less exciting but more of a family affair. I would like to meet your wife and son.”

“Miranda and Jonas would love that,” Rip smiled.

He escorted them to the cargo bay and, after another hug from the young princess, Rip watched them leave then headed to the bridge. Sliding into the pilot’s chair he readied the ship for flight.

“Gideon,” he said, “Let the Vanishing Point know we have the pod and we’re on our way back.”

“We are expected, Captain,” Gideon replied, “And have an entry programmed back to the time stream.”

With a smile at the island below him, Rip pulled the restraint down, and took the ship back into the time stream.

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 3

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This update got away from me quickly, so be warned that it��s a lengthy one! I actually had to break this one up into two parts to make it somewhat reasonable in length, so part 4 will be coming soon! It’s mostly written, I just have to finish it up and do some editing.

Warnings for strong language and some mild sexual content.

——————————————————————————

After her brunch with Azriel, Nesta committed to trying to get back into her usual routines. She allowed herself one less press of the snooze button each morning and made time for an outdoor run each evening. She cooked a small meal for herself each night, packing any leftovers for her lunch the next day. Slowly but surely, she was getting back to good, and she felt pleased overall with her swift improvement considering her mental state of the week prior. 

That’s not to say her mind didn’t wander occasionally to Cassian and the state of their friendship. She challenged herself to feel the emotions those thoughts invoked, process them, but avoid ruminating too much. Admittedly, they ebbed and flowed, alternating between anger and sadness. In that way, moving on from Cassian emulated grief on a certain level, the loss being entirely disruptive to her day-to-day life. She had picked up her phone several times over the course of the week, considering a text to ensure things would be civil for Elain’s birthday party. She thought better of it when she realized that if anyone was skilled in presenting a game face, ever the social diplomat, it was Cassian. She was better off having the “civil” conversation with herself. 

That Saturday morning, she was drinking coffee and scrolling through current events when an alert crossed her screen. It was a group text, including all of their immediate friends, finalizing plans for Elain’s party. They were going to meet at Rita’s around 9pm for drinks since Elain wanted things pretty low-key; however, Mor made promises of a respectable amount of debauchery. 

Around 7:00, Nesta got into the shower, giving herself extra time to sit under the steam and ease any lingering tension. She ran through her plan for keeping her distance from Cassian as best as possible without making things uncomfortable. Thankfully, the hustle and bustle of the bar itself would create a buffer between them, allowing her to maneuver out of his way as smoothly as possible. It still felt so foreign to have these thoughts associated with Cassian, but she would accept nothing less than a drama-free night out for her perfect sister’s birthday. Their dynamic would have to be addressed on another occasion. If ever. 

She shut off the water once it started to chill and wrapped herself in a towel. She used another towel to soak any excess water from her long hair before working a wide-toothed comb through her waves. She tapped the screen of her phone to check the time, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw a notification bearing Cassian’s name on her screen. 

Cassian: Sorry, fam. Just getting out of work and catching up on all these texts. Heading home to shower, then heading to Rita’s to meet you. Remember to save a dance for me, El-Bell!  😘

Unsure of why she half-expected the notification to be anything other than a response in their group chat, Nesta loosed a breath. Their distance over the last two weeks was telling enough, and she knew deep down that he wouldn’t have picked now to break any silence. Ultimately, she decided it was for the best this way. She had gotten through the first contact without having to unpack a ton of emotions she wasn’t comfortable with, so she celebrated the tiny win. 

She turned her attention back to her reflection to decide on her look for the night. She landed on a tousled ponytail, her waves cascading behind her, and a few short tendrils falling naturally around her face. Satisfied with her hair situation, she applied a little make-up, cursing creatively at her liquid eyeliner in the process. Once she applied a sheer gloss, she was ready to tackle wardrobe. She decided on a pair of black high-waisted jeggings, a black, cropped tank, and a casual, dark hunter green blazer.  She slid into black, wedged sandals, put on gold hoops, and grabbed her clutch before walking toward the door. 

She ordered a Lyft, opting for ride share so that she would be likely to get one sooner. She looked at the time: 8:40pm. Rita’s was a little over ten minutes from her apartment, so she had ample time to get a car and arrive without being late. After what seemed like seconds, her phone  beeped with the details of her driver’s car and alerting her that they would be pulling up in a few minutes. She opted to wait outside her apartment, just in case the driver had trouble finding her building. A white sedan pulled up, confirmed she was Nesta, and she slid into the front seat. As her luck would have it, the individuals she was sharing with were in, what looked like, the beginning stages of a very affectionate relationship. She tuned out their soft murmurs, propping her elbow up near the window, used her fingers to prop her head, and kept her attention forward for the rest of the ride. 

———

Nesta was several drinks in and was starting to feel that slow warmth creeping throughout her body. She definitely wasn’t drunk, but she was just buzzed enough to relax into their circle booth as she watched her friends on the dance floor. Elain was dancing animatedly with Feyre, the two spinning each other around and throwing their heads back with laughter. The sight warmed her heart, and she made a mental note to tell them how much she loved them later.

  Oh yea, she was buzzed indeed. 

She glanced over to the others in the booth with her. Amren was to her right, nursing her drink and occasionally laughing at their friends’ antics. Across the circle table was Az, with his forearms crossed and resting on the table. Noticing the small smile on his face, she followed his gaze and landed on Elain. Emboldened by the alcohol, she typed a text and sent it his way. 

N: Would you, for the love of the Cauldron, stop making eyes at my little sister?

She watched him grab his phone, huff a small laugh, and begin typing back to her. 

A: I would, if she wasn’t so perfect. 

He glanced her way, taking a long sip of his beer while he awaited her reaction. Either he was drunk, Nesta thought, or he was trying very hard to get under her skin. She glanced up at him and pantomimed a gag. She saw his shoulders shake a little as he chuckled. 

N: Ew. Have you given her a gift yet?

A: You asked for it. And, no. Why? If you’re about to make any suggestions, you’re too late. I’ve already bought it. 

Nesta scrolled through her GIFs, feeling playful and wanting to watch her friend squirm a little. It only took a few seconds for her to land on the GIF she was looking for: an animation of Justin Timberlake and Andy Samburg for The Lonely Island’s “Dick in a Box”. She added a short caption.

N: I just think this could be a contender. 

She slowly sipped her drink, watching him over the rim of her glass. She saw his phone light up, his eyes scan the texts, and suddenly, he was having to clamp his lips shut to avoid sputtering his beer across the table. Nesta threw her head back and let out a loud laugh. She was feeling quite pleased with herself as he glared at her. 

A: Unbelievable. I’m blocking you. 

Nesta was still chuckling to herself when she noticed Amren’s attention on them. She leaned over to Nesta and deadpanned, “Secrets don’t make friends, you know.” 

Nesta showed the text thread to Amren, much to Azriel’s chagrin. Not only did Amren find just as much amusement in Azriel’s discontent, she fully supported Nesta’s suggestion. They bickered playfully regarding the topic until Amren decided to take matters into her own hands, pushing Azriel out of the booth and stating, “We’re going to join them. Let’s go, Nesta!” Not a request, as per the usual with Amren.

  They made their way through the crowd, finding Elain and Feyre in the middle of the floor. Rhysand, Mor, and Cassian were nearby, having run into their old friend, Kallias. Nesta avoided looking in their general direction, deciding she was in too good a mood to go down that train of thought. Especially with lowered inhibitions and unaddressed emotions.  Bad combination. 

She heard Elain squeal in delight at her joining them on the dance floor, and there was no way she could turn her down seeing the joy on her face. She wasn’t usually one to dance much at all, usually leaning into her role as a wallflower, but she wanted to make her sister as happy as possible on her birthday. 

If I can’t make myself happy these days, at least I could make sure they’re happy. 

She quickly pushed the thought away, deciding there was no room for her cynicism tonight. After dancing for a couple of songs, she realized she needed to use the restroom and let her friends know that’s where she was headed. Before she walked away, she lifted Elain’s arm into the air, spinning her dramatically into Azriel’s unsuspecting form. As she walked away, she heard a loud and high-pitched, “Az! Hi!” She looked over her shoulder to see him bracing her at the waist and Elain throwing her arms around his neck as if he hadn’t been there the entire night.  

Nesta made her way toward the restrooms, finding the door locked. She leaned against the opposite wall, crossing her arms and resting her head back while she waited. Now that she was standing still, she found herself blinking against her clouded vision, brought about by her ever-strengthening buzz. She looked ahead as she heard someone exiting the bathroom, taking longer than she usually would to realize who was in front of her: Tomas Mandray. 

“Nesta? Hey!” Tomas stepped forward to give her a small hug. “Long time, no see!”

Nesta returned the hug, quickly sliding into a mask of politeness as she prepared herself for small talk with someone she hadn’t seen in years. She had dated Tomas for a very brief period of time; nothing too serious. They had been much younger, more immature, but he had been nice enough. They were still too selfish at the time to invest more in each other, and they had ended things mutually. 

“How are you? It’s good to see you!” She pulled back and gave him a small smile. They talked briefly about what they had been doing in recent years, if they had seen any of their old mutual friends, etc., when she felt the presence of another person approaching from her left. It was Tomas who addressed him first.

”Hey, Cassian. How’s it going?” He extended his hand for a brief handshake.

“It’s going, man. Just taking a quick bathroom break.” He turned his gaze to Nesta, greeting her so politely that she could have slapped him. “Hey, Nesta.”

”Hey, Cassian.” She tried to sound as friendly as possible to avoid signaling to Tomas that there was any discord. 

“So, Mandray. What about you? How have you been?” Cassian had shifted his attention back to Tomas quickly, likely with the same goal in mind. 

“Pretty good. I moved for a little while, but I just moved back to Velaris this week for work. I haven’t had much time to get out and about with trying to settle in, but I’m glad to be back.”

”I didn’t realize you’d moved back! I guess we’ll be seeing you around more often!” Cassian gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. 

“Yea, you all are some of the first people I’ve run into that I still know from before. Nice to see some friendly faces, for sure. Anyway, I won’t keep you.” He looked from Cassian to Nesta, addressing her fully. “Want to get together for dinner soon? Old time’s sake?”

”Oh. Sure! Sounds good.” He seemed satisfied with that answer and walked away.

  Cassian waited until Tomas was walking back into the main area of the bar before he turned to Nesta. She was still leaning against the wall, her foot propped back against it, and arms crossed in front of her chest. Despite her better judgment, she looked up at him and couldn’t help but track her eyes over the angles of his handsome face. Her eyes lingered on the small scar through his eyebrow, traced his cheekbones, jaw, until finally, landing on his hazel eyes.

  “So. Mandray, huh?” She saw the tension in his jaw, likely knowing he had no right to ask the question but wanting to know anyway. 

Her first thought was to tell him to fuck off, but she thought better of it. She still needed to keep her lid on those unaddressed emotions, regardless of the fact that it was busting at the seams now. She schooled her face into indifference and lifted her chin, refusing to shy away from his question. 

“Is that jealousy, Cass? It’s not becoming.” She continued to hold his gaze. She hoped her neutral expression didn’t slip upon hearing his response, his honesty surprising her. 

“Yea. It is.” He huffed a laugh and had the good sense to look sheepish. “How do you expect me not to be jealous? I know too much.” He was scanning her face now, all too similar to how he gauged her reaction that last time they were together. 

“You know too much? What could you possibly know about Tomas? He’s been back in Velaris for all of 10 minutes, and you haven’t heard from him in years. He could be a totally different person.” She kept her tone even, matter of fact.

  He closed the distance between them, bracing his forearm on the wall next to her head. She had to look up slightly to maintain eye contact and felt suddenly assaulted by his familiar scent: something woodsy with hints of smoke and rain. They were so close that she could also smell the whiskey he had been drinking throughout the night. He slid his other hand into his front pocket and shifted his weight casually to one side. 

“I don’t know shit about Mandray, Nes. I’m talking about you and the things that wreck me to think he’d learn about you.”

Although she knew she shouldn’t ask it, the question left her lips. “And just what is it that you know about me?” 

A small smirk graced the side of his mouth, yet his eyes were so earnest that she couldn’t bear to hold the smirk against him. He wet his lips and cleared his throat before answering her. “For starters, the way your body flushes. It usually starts right about here,” he removed his hand from his pocket to touch the center of her chest with his index finger, “and it travels upward to here.” He softly dragged his knuckle from right below where her necklace fell to her collarbone. He shifted his hand to run the pad of his thumb over the prominent bone, toward her shoulder. He gently cupped it near her shoulder seam, softly grazing his palm toward her neck. “All across here.” He moved his large hand to cup the side of her neck, running his thumb over her delicate jaw. “Up here.” He finally slid his hand to cup her face, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. “And ending up here.” 

She wasn’t sure she was breathing, but she didn’t have it in her to pull away. Not when her blood was singing at his proximity, at his scent, everything. She swallowed hard and tried to steady her breathing. She was only partially aware of someone sweeping past them to occupy the bathroom, effectively gluing her the spot. 

“Then, your breathing starts to pick up. You take deep breaths and release them in soft pants.” He moved his hand to trace the shell of her ear with his thumb, and Cauldron boil her if she didn’t lean in slightly to his caress. He cupped the side of her neck as he dipped his head, their cheeks barely grazing, and lowered his voice. 

“After a while, you start to kill me with your soft moans and your small whines, and you really kill me when my name starts to fall from your lips. That’s when I know you’re close, Nes.”

She wasn’t sure how long she could go with such shallow breaths before passing out on the tile below her, but between that, the tightening in her core, and his small ministrations, she couldn’t imagine that it would be long at all. She could feel his stubble against her cheek and his breath against her ear. His voice was low and raspy, adding to the onslaught of sensations. When she felt his nose graze her temple ever so slightly, her hands moved forward of their own volition, finding their home on his rib cage.

How did this escalate so quickly?

He continued to graze his nose gently over her temple, his lips brushing it as well. “You have the smallest of veins that presents itself right here. Only right before I feel you come for me.”

At his words, she felt herself gripping his shirt tightly around his ribs. He left out a small hiss, then a groan, before the bathroom door flew open again. He shielded her with his body, waiting until the person leaving the bathroom was well into the bar before looking at her. He squeezed his eyes shut, gently shook his head, and cleared his throat. 

“Umm. I think that’s you, Nes,” he said. He started to lean away from her, the moment gone, and she felt the absence of his warmth immediately. Unable to formulate an actual reply, she merely nodded before stepping around him to enter the bathroom. Once inside, she leaned back against the door, begging her brain to catch up with what just happened. She blinked toward the ceiling and breathed deeply to try and cool her blood, a solitary thought playing on a loop in her head.

Oh, fuck.

—————————————————————————

A/N: Hope y’all enjoyed it! I realize this isn’t an ideal place to leave off, but it was the most logical place to break it into parts! I had fun writing a buzzed (approaching drunk) and playful Nesta because I feel like she’s so dynamic. Sometimes I feel like she gets pigeonholed into this one-dimensional, miserable character, but even people who are in pain have their moments where the facets of their personality shine through. I hope that comes through in this chapter!

If you’d like to be tagged in future updates, feel free to reblog, comment, or send me a message! As always, your feedback is welcome as well!

Tags Below:

@polireader // @lord-douglas-the-third // @justgiu12 // @notyournymphetish // @sjm-things // @strangeenemy // @iammissstark // @keshavomit // @sjmships // @cookiemonsterwholovesbooks // @dusty-lightbulb // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @julemmaes

[aswallowssong]

Second Child, Restless Child

Chapter 9 - The Devil Whispered Lies

@valkyrie-5583

Read on AO3

If I told y'all I got engaged and that's why this chapter is literally a billion years late, would that make it better??

Jokes aside (not really a joke, I did get engaged, I just hid it in the notes a few weeks ago) spring break is one week away for this teacher, and my goal is to write a whole bunch so I can not have to post chapters like... 2 months apart.

Let me know what you think of this one!! Have a lovely day!!

Continuation of chapter 8 - Heaven Knows How Hard I Tried. The Keystone Killer has given Kit a lot to think about; including some things she wasn't quite counting on.

Kit wasn’t quite listening when they walked back into the precinct. Her conversation with JJ earlier in the day had helped. If JJ had met pushback, but now she was allowed to be a full part of the BAU team, she should stand up for herself. The director himself saw all of her reports, she could tell Ramos she disagreed with him. Especially if, for the time being, her work was good enough for the literal director of the whole FBI.

But her talk with Hotch outside of Harbin’s house hadn’t done her a lot of good. Her mind was still reeling from the events of the last hour, she still hadn’t slept since Friday night, and it was actively Sunday. 

What brought her back to reality was Morgan’s voice, deep and steady at the front of their group. It caught her up to the present so quickly she almost stopped short, which would have sent Hotch right into her.

“Well, that's got to be a first. A killer actually leading us to another killer.”

“Come on,” Gideon said from further back, “we all know they make the best profilers. They admire each other's work.”

“Ya, but usually from afar,” Elle said as they spilled into the conference room.

Kit didn’t even let herself imagine sitting down. There was no way she would be able to stay awake when she had nothing of value to add. At this point, she was waiting to get back on the jet and back to her apartment. The image of Claudia was twisting in her mind, and she couldn’t help the desperate need she had to see Monty face to face.

Hotch didn’t let her stay in her head for very long. “At least we got Harbin off the street. All right, let's review. What do we know about the Keystone Killer?”

He’s killing women at an alarming rate.

“Well, we know that he's not dead or in jail,” Elle offered.

Gideon continued. “Enjoys taunting the game.”

“Ya,” Morgan agreed easily. “He's in complete control.”

Reid was quick to add on, statistics rattling from him easier than Kit was even keeping her eyes open. “He strangled seven women in the 1980's, stopped for eighteen years, and then began again suffocating them. Ten percent of all violent crimes are caused by strangulation, it only takes eleven pounds of pressure to fully incapacitate your victim and if you hang on for at least fifty seconds, they will never recover.”

“Yeah,” Kit said, stopping short once she’d realized the words had come from her mouth, not someone else’s. Everyone’s eyes were on her, and she took a moment before she voiced the fact her brain had produced for her, however reluctantly. “It’s one of the most lethal forms of violence. Victims can be unconscious in a matter of ten seconds.”

Hotch shook his head, confusion pushing from his before he said, “When you suffocate someone you actually have less control over their death. It's actually more passive because the killer doesn't feel the life leaving the body.”

“He's changed almost everything that he does,” Elle said. She was lost, mild annoyance and confusions coming off her in waves. Elle had joined the team just as JJ did, and Kit wondered if she ever felt as completely baffled as she herself felt.

In that moment, it felt like the answer could be yes, and that was comforting.

Gideon took over then, speaking to them as a whole in a series of questions. “Why why why why? What? I mean, what's he getting out of this new M. O.? Where's his payoff? You got Carla Bromwell, she sustains a significant head injury. Blitz attacks suggest disorganization, no self-confidence. This is a guy who walks into seven victims' homes prior to this. There was no forced entry at any of the scenes. Where's the loss of confidence?”

There was a beat of silence, and she really hoped anyone had any idea. It was moments like these that made Kit feel the most out of her element. She had no idea why the Keystone Killer would want to kill anyone anyway, how could she know why he would change his methods?

“He would never change the way he kills by choice,” Ryan said, breaking the silence.

“What?” 

Ryan spoke again, confident in a way the rest of the team lacked. “We've been operating under the assumption that he purposely changed his M. O.”

It was like something physically snapped into place. Kit looked around as everyone was suddenly much more engaged. 

“You're saying he changed because he had to change?” Gideon asked.

“He knocked her unconscious. And it wasn't to scare.”

Elle seemed to be catching on, and Kit wished selfishly she wasn’t. “Because he couldn't control her physically while she was awake.”

Ryan nodded. “He could be incapacitated.”

Gideon latched back on. “At least partially.”

“Maybe an injury.” 

“Or a stroke,” Hotch added, and Gideon started nodding. “Either way you're gonna have to have medical records. Agreed?”

It took her more than a few seconds to notice that no one had said anything else, and she looked over at Gideon, who was looking directly at her.

Why is he looking at me? He never looks at me? We have a spoken rule to not look at one another during cases so why is he looking right at me?

“Colghain?” he said, and she shook her head. He most certainly was looking at her for an answer, and everyone else had gone quiet so she could answer.

“Yeah.” She said, and she saw Ryan raise an eyebrow in annoyance before she stumbled over herself to continue her answer. “Yeah, yes, sorry. Yes. There would be injury reports, charts, notes, scripts. It’s a lot of records, depending on who your doctor is and what hospital you’re at.”

There was another pause before they were all nodding, taking in what she’d said and running with it.

Morgan was first to speak. “Okay, so what are we talking about? This had to have happened after the middle of 1988 in Philadelphia?”

Gideon nodded, first at Kit, and then to Morgan. “Somebody who fits the rest of the profile.”

“It's a lot of hospital records,” Reid said, also looking towards Kit, who nodded her affirmation. “There’s hoards of people going into ERs every day for exactly those sorts of things. It’ll be a huge pool.”

He smiled at her, and she found herself taken a bit aback, but returned his grin with a shy one of her own.

“Call our girl Friday,” Gideon said, directed to Morgan, and as the flurry of movement and new hope danced through the room, she found herself feeling much less tired than she did before.

She’d been helpful. Gideon had known she was an expert about something and asked for her agreement and input before simply inserting a thought. 

Her feelings were incredibly jumbled as she stood there, waiting for directions. Gideon’s affirmation made her feel better than she thought it would, considering they didn’t usually talk if not to argue. JJ’s conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, and she wanted to talk to Ramos. If JJ could stand up to the coms department and get what she wanted, why couldn’t she stand up to Ramos?

But Claudia filled the leftover space in her consciousness, and she didn’t know if she could fight for more time with the BAU, or to try to be more fully integrated, or whatever it was that she actually wanted if the cases were going to stay with her.

To scare her. To make her feel like she needed to know that her sisters were alright, even though there was no way to do that while knees deep in a case. 

What do you even want, Kody? What do you want?

She didn’t have an answer for herself.

-----

Kit stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom of the precinct and splashed another cupful of water onto her face, holding her cheeks in her hands a moment before looking up at her reflection. 

You look exhausted.

Monty’s voice, as always, chided her. Sometimes she wished the voice of her overinvolved consciousness was her brother Al instead. Alaska couldn’t be bothered over things like that. His biggest qualm in life was the fact that his name was Alaska, and it had been quickly remedied by Ari telling him he could just go by Alex at school. 

You’ve got bigger problems than that. You’re having a moment in a police precinct in Philly while the rest of your team waits on a comprehensive file to be faxed. 

A feeling of dread shot through her chest at the realization that Monty didn’t even know she was gone. She’d been so tired and so incredibly thrown by Garcia’s text, and then Hotch’s insistence that she was on the jet that she hadn’t thought to walk down and tell Ari she was leaving. He’d been on the clinic floor; out of sight, out of mind. Then she was on the jet, and then at the crime scene. 

She hadn’t even sent a text. 

Hell, she hadn’t even really slept since then. Her time in the jet and her few minutes in the car were nowhere near what she needed, and with all the feelings and thoughts she had flying around her head, she was surprised she hadn’t crashed. She was definitely feeling “Big Feelings,” and she didn’t have time for it.

Ari and Monty always helped the big feelings. They had to be wondering where she was. Why hadn’t they called her? Or texted? They had to be worried. Girls didn’t just go missing in the middle of the day.

But they do. And worse, they’re murdered too. Right out of nowhere for no reason at all. People are sick, Kody. They kill for pleasure. They kidnap for pleasure. They’ll take anyone at any time. 

She had her phone out and dialed in record time.

“Penelope’s hotline for all things truth. Speak and know.”

“Garcia.” She swiped at her eyes. When had she started crying? “I need a favor.”

“Oh, Kit, hey.” Her voice was as sunny as always. “I’ve got that file almost through, the medical was-”

“It’s not about the case.”

There was silence on the other line for a moment. “Oh?”

“If I gave you the first and last name, could you trace a cell phone?”

“A cell phone? As long as it’s registered to the same name, yeah, I can. Why?”

“Virginia.” She said. “Virginia Colghain.”

She didn’t know why she picked Ginny. Something inside her said that Seese, George, and Lina would be at home with their mam. Ginny lived in the city, and Kit couldn’t call her. 

Ginny didn’t know she was in the field. Ginny didn’t even know she’d been paired with the BAU.

“Where should it be? Just so I know what I’m looking for.”

“Probably the US Attorney's office.”

“Which branch?”

“The one in the district. On fourth street.”

Garcia hummed as she typed, the clicking of her keystrokes halting as she said, “Wait. Wait, Colghain?”

Kit bit her lip. She was sort of hoping Garcia wouldn’t notice. 

Which is stupid, because of course she’d notice.

“Yes.”

“Virginia Colghain?”

“Yes, Garcia, can you track it or not?” Kit glanced at herself in the mirror, letting her reflection ground her. She tugged at one braid, and then the other with her free hand before wiping at her eyes again.

The clicking started again before Garcia said, “Virginia Colghain’s phone is, in fact, inside the US Attorney’s office on fourth street.”

Kit breathed a sigh of relief. While it wasn’t proof that Ginny was okay, it certainly helped Kit’s nerves. “Thanks, Penelope. Sorry about that.”

“Sure, my sweet clover. But, why don’t you just call her and ask where she is? I’m going to assume that’s one of your many many siblings.”

Because I haven’t quite told her I’m working with the BAU now, or going in the field again, and I’m not ready to have that conversation with her just yet, considering no one knows but Ari and Monty.

“I don’t want to interrupt her at work, I just needed to know she was okay.”

Garcia was quiet again before saying, “You know, we’ll get him. My system has faxed almost all the papers now, and then you can go bring him in.”

Kit took a breath, glancing again at the reflection in the mirror. She almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at her. Had she always looked so sad?

“Thanks, Pen,” she said quietly. “I, um. I’ve gotta go.”

“Go fight crime, clover. But, hey,” Penelope’s voice took on a different quality. A serious one. “You and I should talk when you get back.”

She sighed, but nodded. “Okay… bye, Penelope.”

Kit hung up the phone.

Ginny was fine. She knew that it was a given, and she probably just looked like a crazy, paranoid moron, but she also knew deep down that Penelope didn’t care. Maybe she understood.

Before she could convince herself otherwise she hit the first position speed dial, pacing a bit in front of the sinks as it rang.

“Dia dhuit?” Came Monty’s groggy, listless voice over the line, and Kit nearly burst into tears at the combination of her sister’s voice, her real voice, and their mother tongue.

“Monty.”

“Yeah, it’s me. Where are you? Thought you were in the living room, but I only hear you on the phone.”

Kit wiped at a stray tear trailing down her cheek. There was no way she was keeping it together when she finally got home.

Monty’s accented Irish was thicker than it normally was. Her voice was lower too, telling of the fact that she quite possibly woke her twin up. She bit back a bit of guilt, her own voice launching into a language just for them.

“I’m sorry, I woke you, didn't I?”

“It’s alright, I’ll go back when we’re done. Where are you?”

“Are you feeling any better?” She was stalling. “When was the last time you took-”

“Dakota.” Kit stopped in her tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Everything is fine.”

“But why are you crying?”

Damn it.

She tried to keep any tremor out of her voice, but she knew Monty would always be able to tell. “I’m not.”

“Why are you calling me, crying-”

Kit sighed, her pacing stopping dead in its tracks as she tried to keep herself together. “Everything is okay. I’m not hurt. I’m fine. Everyone is fine. I needed to hear your voice.”

The coughing across the line was grating, and then, “Kody, where are you? What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“I…” Kit started, steadying herself with a hand on the counter. “We’re in Pennsylvania.” 

“You’re what?” 

“It’s fine, I had to leave overnight. We’re on a case.”

“You didn’t call,” Monty said, obviously upset. “You didn’t even send a text. Ari was at the bureau last night, too, why-” She cut herself off to cough, the line being muffled as Monty pulled away from the speaker.

Kit ran her hand down her face. This wasn’t the conversation she needed to be having. She should have called Ari. He tended to be a little more level headed when he was upset. 

“Why wouldn’t you say anything?” Monty finally asked, voice much rougher than before. “What if something happened?”

“Nothing is going to happen,” Kit said, her voice more steady than she felt it should be. “I’m sorry, Mont. I’m so sorry. I know I should have told you.”

“Why…” Monty trailed for a moment before she said quietly, “Why did you call now?”

Claudia’s face flashed to the front of her mind, and then Monty’s; the reflection of her own staring back at her in the mirror. 

“I needed to hear your voice. I had to know you were alright.”

Another moment of silence passed before Monty asked, “Something happened, didn’t it?”

Kit sighed, sniffling quietly before letting out another, deeper sigh. “I don’t know if I can do this, Mont.”

The door to the bathroom swung open, JJ standing on the other side.

“Hey, the whole file finally came through, we’re meeting in the- are you crying?” 

Kit’s head whipped around to look at JJ square, and she hastily wiped under her eyes. “No, I, um. I’ll be right there.”

JJ tilted her head, but nodded and shut the door again. The air between the twins crackled quietly before Kit cleared her throat.

“I have to go. I… hopefully I’ll be home tonight. I’m sorry, Montana. I am.”

“Kody, wait-”

“I love you, Mont, I’m so sorry.”

“You can’t just say those things and then go put yourself in danger! You can’t do that to me! I-”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I-” The door to the bathroom was pounded on. “Lep! Let’s go!”

Derek.

“Dakota!”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

Before Monty could say anything else, Kit snapped her phone shut. 

------

Her leg bounced as she sat in the SUV in between Reid and Elle. She was twisting at the hem of her shirt, and some of the threads had ripped and stretched. It was keeping her from pulling on her hair though, so she didn’t care about that. Ginny could sew it for her when they got back to DC.

If Ginny’s still there. Anyone could grab her at any time. Anyone could-

“Are you okay?” Reid asked quietly, his eyes locked on her fingers as they tugged at the material.

She stilled her hands immediately, feeling the concern dripping from his tone.

“Yeah,” she said. “Just… tired.”

“You could probably sit out if you need to,” he said, not noticing the way her face had started to heat up. Everyone in the SUV was actively pretending they couldn’t hear their conversation, but Kit knew better.

“I don’t need to,” she said quickly. “I just want to get home, so the faster we cuff this creep, the better."

"Because of your sister?"

"What?"

How could he have possibly known what you were thinking about Ginny? Did you say something? Did-

"Your sister's sick, right?"

She stared at him for a moment before it clicked. He wasn't talking about Ginny. Of course he wasn't, the only one that knew about her minor meltdown was Garcia. Monty being sick was common knowledge. 

"Oh," she said. "Yeah. And because he's, you know." She gestured vaguely. "Murdering women."

Elle laughed quietly next to her, nodding as she said, “Right, there’s that. We’ll get him. Right, Gideon?”

“Oh, we’ll get him,” Gideon said, sending more anticipatory energy into the world than usual. Kit didn’t have to think about the implications of that, though, as the SUV came to a halt outside a two story home.

They got out of the van quickly, all thoughts of Monty and going home gone as they strapped into Kevlar vests and double checked their weapons.

“I believe Walter Kern is in Sylvia Gooden's home now,” Gideon said, addressing the five of them and the SWAT captain. “Hotch confirmed he left the community center hours ago, and Kern's car's parked on the next block.”

“I want Walter Kern alive,” Ryan said quickly, and the SWAT captain nodded at his request. “I'll stand by for the word.”

“Reid, Greenaway, I'll call you when we've secured Kern. Morgan, Colghain, you’re with me and Ryan. Okay, let's move out.”

“Yeah,” Elle said, watching them as they walked away, Kit trailing just behind. 

It didn’t feel right to her that she was going and Elle was staying back, but that was one of the reasons she was even on the team.

Or, working with them, at least. There’d been too many conversations surrounding that topic for her to understand her feelings about it.

They crept towards the house, pausing as the SWAT team pried the door open. Gideon led and Kit held the rear, covering and watching to make sure that nothing happened to them. Team or not, they were her responsibility.

They weren’t in the house for very long before they could hear Gooden crying for help on the second floor. Every movement they made was succinct, and within seconds they were in the room.

“Don't move! Don't move!” Gideon yelled, all weapons drawn at Kern as he tried to hold a plastic bag over Gooden’s face.

They scuffled for a moment, Morgan able to knock Kern’s gun out of the way before holding his arms behind his back. “Down on your knees! Down! Don't move!”

Kit held her gun steady, shifting into a position that allowed her to still have a sightline on Kern; at least until he was cuffed. Not that she believed he could get out of Morgan’s hold.

Gideon spoke quickly into the com, letting Reid and Elle know that Gooden was alive, and Kern was secure.

Morgan struggled a bit to keep Kern’s hands together, and Kit didn’t change her aim. “Cuff him, Morgan.”

“Gideon, I need your cuffs, man,” he said over his shoulder.

Gideon didn’t move right away, but Kit didn’t take her eyes off Kern. She couldn’t until she knew he didn’t have any chance of getting away.

“Why don't you do this? I'll take care of her.” Gideon had spoken to Ryan, who had clearly been soothing Gooden until that moment. 

"That's enough. Now get up,” Morgan said, passing him off so Ryan could cuff him. “You got him?”

“Ya, I got him,” Ryan said, and Kit lowered her weapon as she heard the click of the cuffs secure around Kern’s wrists.

“Colghain,” Gideon said, “Some help, please.”

Kit turned quickly, realizing that Sylvia Gooden, who had just been nearly suffocated, was still crying and panicking with flex cuffs around her wrists. 

She wasn’t done yet.

The two steps to the bed were swift, and Gideon stepped aside as she spoke to the traumatized woman. “Hi, my name is Kit. I’m a nurse, and I’m going to check and make sure you’re okay. Is it alright if I touch you?”

Gooden looked up at her for a moment before she nodded stiffly, taking a deep breath before dissolving into hysterics. 

Kit grabbed her hands and squeezed gently, giving the older woman a small smile despite all the crazy going on around them.

“You’re going to be okay,” she said. “I promise. It’s all going to be okay.”

-----

Kit sat next to Reid on the jet, which was odd, because she normally tried to keep herself as far away from everyone as possible. She’d gotten a very strange read off of Hotch, though, who had secluded himself in the corner she usually would have taken, so she figured the conversation would keep her awake if anything else.

It didn’t stop her from propping a blue notebook open in her lap and tapping at it quietly with her pen. They were laughing at a story Ryan was telling about Gideon that made him seem almost human, and the laughter she shared was genuine. Gideon had stepped aside for her to take the lead with Gooden, which meant he was going to be true to his word when they were in the field. Stay out of each other’s way, and things will be fine. 

She just hoped it would last.

“What goes in that notebook?”

She looked up at Reid’s voice, noticing that while she’d allowed herself to be in her own head for fifteen seconds, everyone had splintered into their own conversations. Elle had even walked away from them, and was now engaged in a quiet conversation with Hotch.

“Hm?”

He nodded down at the blue notebook in her lap. “What goes in there? I’ve only ever seen the red one, and that’s where you write all of our medical information, and things that happen to us medically during cases. Like when I was sick in New Jersey. But that didn’t happen this time, nothing did, and that notebook is blue, and it’s much more worn, and -” He stopped short, frowning. “I’m rambling.”

She shook her head quickly. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind. I was waiting for you to be done before I answered your question.”

Reid’s eyes widened a bit, his jaw dropping for just a moment before he seemed to right himself. “Most people don’t wait until I’m done.”

“It’s a skill I picked up in college. It’s hard to help someone if you won’t listen to their entire story.”

“Huh,” he said. He seemed to think on that for a moment before he said, “So, what’s it for?”

She blinked up at him. “Oh.”

She hadn’t thought she’d actually have to answer. She was sort of hoping that he would talk himself in circles until he was on another topic completely. He’d done it a few times over the short time she’d known him.

“Oh?”

“Well, it’s sort of personal,” she settled on.

“Like a journal? A diary?”

If he noticed she was blushing, he didn’t let on. “A little bit, it’s like-” She stopped short as she saw JJ move from her seat towards the coffee machine, and her brain flipped a completely different switch. “Sorry, I need to talk to JJ,” she said, and before he could protest, she’d dropped the notebook on her seat and was across the short length of the plane.

“Hey, JJ,” she said, causing the blonde to turn around and smile. 

“Hey, coffee?”

“No, actually I-” She hadn’t quite thought the rest out. “I um.”

She found her hands grabbing for the ends of her hair, but she stopped herself before she could start tugging. She was far too late on her meds, which were officially out of whack, considering the fact that she hadn’t slept in two days. She wasn’t even sure what day it was.

“Is today Sunday?” She said, which was not at all how she’d intended to start the conversation she wanted to have. 

JJ laughed. “I have no idea. Maybe? When we left it was the middle of the night, so I would need to check my phone.”

“Right,” Kit said, easing a bit and giving a quiet laugh of her own. “I um. Well, I wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said.”

JJ tilted her head, eyebrows pulling together. “What I said?”

“What you said about pushing back.”

“Ah,” JJ said, eyes flashing with recognition. “And?”

“I… Claudia really threw me.”

Her head tilted before she said, “The woman they found under the bed?”

Kit shivered. “Yeah.” She didn’t regard the moment with fondness. 

JJ didn’t seem to notice. She thought for a moment before shrugging. “I heard Morgan telling Gideon that you were incredible with her. That you didn’t leave when EMS got there because she didn’t want you to.”

Kit shook her head quickly, deflecting the praise. “I didn’t really do anything. She just… I don’t think she wanted all those men around her without another woman around.”

“And you were that woman for her.”

Kit stopped for a moment, watching JJ’s eyes soften. She was going to deflect again - insist that she’d done exactly what anyone else would have done, but something stopped her. 

“I want to be here,” she heard herself saying. She hadn’t had time to process it herself, but it seemed she was going to do it outloud, in real time. “I want to be a part of this, but I’m scared. Because there will be more Claudias. And more Sylvias… And more Kerns.” She moved a hand to play with the seam at the hip of her slacks. “And we won’t always get there in time. I won’t always get there in time.”

The two women stood in silence for a moment before JJ reached out and took Kit’s right hand off her braid, squeezing it gently between her own fingers.

“But we’ll always try. And sometimes?” She shrugged. “We win.”

Kit took a deep breath, allowing that thought to fill her senses. Sylvia Gooden was alive. Claudia was alive. Kern lost. 

“I think you should talk to Hotch when we get back. Not now. You look exhausted.”

They both laughed, Kit’s a little lackluster. “It’s that obvious?”

“You’ve got two black eyes.”

“Damn.” Kit shook her head, averting her eyes from JJ’s before saying, “Thank you. For listening and telling me what you knew and for making me feel like I deserve to be here.”

JJ nodded, saying simply, “You do.” She gestured to the coffee machine again. “You sure you don’t want some?”

Kit laughed, shaking her head again. “No, really, I shouldn’t. My body doesn’t know what time it is already, I think that would put me in dangerous territory.”

She stood on the Red Line platform, struggling to keep her eyes open. She pinched the skin between her thumb and forefinger, trying anything subtle to get her from point A to point B as quickly as possible. It was already dark, and she didn’t need to fall asleep on the train, or worse, while standing and waiting for the train. 

That would really cap this weekend. Falling asleep on the train, missing your stop, getting abducted…

“Do you have a headache?”

“Ah!” She jumped, turning over her shoulder and swearing loudly. “Reid, what the hell?”

“Sorry!” He said, ducking just a bit, as if he was worried she was going to strike him. “That pressure point is effective in relieving headaches, grounding panic attacks, and quelling nausea. Are you sick?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “No, that’s not- I know exactly what this pressure point is used for Spencer, what the hell are you doing here? At my train stop? Again? I told you that I don’t-”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” he said quickly, cutting her off before she could really get going. The anxious sincerity flooding off of him stopped her long enough for him to continue. “The odds of being accosted on the Red Line are significantly lower than the Blue, but you’re exhausted, and this case made you nervous, so I just wanted to be sure you…” He slowed, a dark flush rising in his cheeks. “Got home safe. Which I’m sure you can on your own, because your field scores dwarf mine. I, um…”

He had stuttered to a halt.

He’s embarrassed. And he wanted to help you.

She didn’t have time or energy to process the fact that he’d most definitely profiled her. The sentiment was sort of touching.

Sort of, as far as Spencer Reid was concerned. 

“This… isn’t a Gideon thing?”

Reid chuckled quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets. “No. It’s, ah, a me thing. Gideon offered me a ride home, but I said no.”

She tilted her head at him, frowning as the train squealed into the station. “No shit?”

He laughed again, shaking his head and offering a small smile, his cheeks still flushed, but relief in his eyes. “No shit.”

“...Fine. But only because I’m really tired… You know, you could have said all this, or offered, in the bullpen, right? You didn’t have to follow me to the train like a stalker.”

The blush flooded his cheeks again, and he shrugged, unable to meet her eyes. “I didn’t want you to yell at me or something in front of everyone else.”

Her heart sank. 

Look what you’ve done, Kody. You made him anxious to be alone with you because he thinks you’re some crazy person that’s going to fly off the handle.

Well, aren’t you?

“I wouldn’t do that, Spencer,” She said, starting towards the train door. “I appreciate the concern… thanks.”

He looked up, eyes flashing a combination of relief and hesitance. “Oh. Yeah. Ah, yeah, sure.”

They sat down inside the train, Kit immediately leaning her head against the window. She sighed, closing her eyes.

Maybe Reid isn’t so bad. Maybe he’ll stay quiet, or read the whole way and you can actually get a short-

“You know, there’s a staggering amount of germs on the window on a DC train. Approximately 45% of people…”

-----

Spencer stalked away from her door, his long legs making him look somewhat like a baby giraffe as he turned to descend the stairs. He gave a last, incredibly awkward wave.

“See you tomorrow, Dakota,” he said.

She fought back the instinct to groan. “Bye Reid, thanks.”

He grinned as his head slipped below her sight line and she let out a sigh, her entire body seeming to settle into exhaustion. It was late, and dark, and hopefully she would be able to slip into the apartment and deal with her siblings in the morning before she left for work. She’d talk to Monty then, and Ari at the clinic, and everything would be fine.

She’d need to call Ginny, but she could do that in the morning as well. She needed to sleep first. Sleep, and then deal with whatever came.

Her hand fumbled a bit with the key as she tried to fit it correctly into the door, eyes dry and tired and brain scrambled. The residual jittery, anxious feeling of both the case and messing the the time on her medication wasn’t helping her fine motor skills, and she’d nearly resigned to search through her backpack for the flashlight she kept when the doorknob was ripped away from her hand, the door flying open. 

Something hard slammed into her body, arms wrapping around her in a vice grip and knocking the wind out of her.

Instead of words, there were hitching sobs from her attacker. Congested sounding, sad, and overly frustrated, matched with hot tears that were falling onto her shoulder. She took a breath, wrapping her arms around Monty and holding her as close as she could.

“Shh, it’s okay, dair, I’m okay,” she mumbled quietly, feeling her twin’s arms tighten around her. 

“Don't… ever do that,” Monty managed, voice gravely and tearful. “Never, ever.”

“Oi, Mont, what-” Ari turned the corner, making eye contact with Kit over their sister’s shoulder. She watched physical tension release in his shoulders. “Ah. Okay. Mont, deirfiúr, come in and close the door. She’s okay. We’re fine.”

The mixing of languages wrapped around Kit, filling her like a breath she hadn’t taken in days. Monty let go, rubbing furiously at her streaming eyes as she walked back through the door, settling down on their couch and curling herself into a ball.

Ari pulled Kit through the door, looking at Monty and shaking his head. There was no need for the mix now, they could speak as they did among themselves. “Ah, no, get up. Come on. She’s tired, you’re sick. Bed. Now.”

Kit didn’t know how it happened, but they all ended up in Ari’s bed. Granted, it was the biggest. He didn’t share a room, and he was significantly taller than both she and Monty had ever hoped to be. They’d slept all together as children often, and when they were first living in the district on the floor at Ginny’s, they ended up in some sort of pile of limbs the nights they all worked the same shifts. 

Now they rarely did. Six months before when they were back at home after Al needed to get his appendix out. A year before that when their Grandad had died. Before that? She wasn’t sure she remembered. 

Monty’s head rested on her chest, quiet congested snoring coming from her in even breaths. Her face was flushed; from fever or crying, Kit wasn’t sure.

She’d been nearly pulled into Ari’s lap, and now her head rested on his stomach, rising and falling just slightly as he slept. 

Regardless of how incredibly exhausted she was, she forced herself to stay awake and listen. To feel them breathing. To be sure they were there, and alive.

JJ’s words played in her head. 

You do.

She deserved to be with the BAU. She deserved to be there.

Her senses focused back in on her cúpla, and the stress she’d caused them. The fear. The anxiety.

But do you really want to be?

-----

It's me again!

The plan right now is to make each season (year?) a different story, with a different song as the title and lyrics for the chapters. I'm a music person, this is the only way I operate.

If you've heard a song that made you feel feelings, hit me with it!

[georgefancys]

police violence and propaganda in ITV’s Endeavour

“That’s not what my dad says... he says you’re all bastards.” - Tommy Cork, Endeavour, ‘Neverland’.

- first of all, I’m white, so if any black people or other poc want to weigh in, please please do. this isn’t going to be a post about race specifically (mostly because there’s barely anything to talk about, Russell Lewis loves him some white characters) but obviously since a hugely disproportionate amount of police violence in real life is towards black people, that has to be a part of the conversation.

- second of all, all cops are bastards. yes, in the uk too.

- it’s not like i’ve seen anyone in the fandom defending fictional police officers or anything (unlike, say, some people in the brooklyn 99 fandom), so this isn’t a response to anything i’ve seen, but if we’re all going to be stanning a cop show i think this needs to be addressed.

- i’m not any kind of expert, i’m just taking information i’ve learnt elsewhere and applying it to Endeavour.

- i’m very willing to debate on stuff, but read the whole post before you do.

Police corruption

so, the overarching plot in Endeavour, from the pilot to the season 6 finale, is police corruption. However, the corrupting influence is not the police force itself. Instead, it’s the Freemasons, a “secret” society. All the corrupt police officers in Endeavour, from ACC Deare to DS Chard to DS Lott are either Masons themselves, have Masonic connections, or are being bribed/blackmailed by Masons. The point of the corruption plotline is that the police are not corrupt themselves, it’s an external influence that is causing the police force problems. Our main characters are the good police officers!! They hate corruption!!

Fred Thursday

Fred Thursday is a narrative foil for Morse. His family life is a reflection of what Morse doesn’t have. This is a large part of season 1, mostly in Fugue and Home. However, he also does morally ambiguous things that Morse doesn’t agree with. For example, in the season 1 episode Rocket, Thursday is xenophobic towards a German engineer, which Morse is vocal about disagreeing with. We the viewers aren’t supposed to agree with Thursday about this, but there’s never a point where Thursday goes ‘oh yeah I probably shouldn’t hate this German dude who obviously isn’t a nazi’. He keeps his views, and this is never addressed again.

In the season 5 episode Quartet, Thursday covers up for a woman who pushed her abusive husband down the stairs, saying that he must have tripped. Morse also vocally disagrees with this. However, I think the writer intended Thursday’s actions here to be more sympathetic. Which yeah, fair enough, right? The wife doesn’t deserve to go to jail for defending herself. But the problem here is Thursday’s interpretation of justice. At no point, even after seeing evidence of domestic abuse towards the wife twice (and it’s implied that there was more that occurred prior to the episode that he knew about) does he arrest or question the husband. He thinks that because the husband died, that’s justice done. He didn’t actually try to carry out justice using the legal system. And I know that legally domestic abuse can be a tricky thing, especially in the 60s, but Thursday essentially ignores his duty as a police officer to intervene in the obvious domestic abuse situation, and then covers up for the wife. And the line that genuinely bothers me so much, and is what makes me think we’re meant to interpret his actions as good:

Thursday: God was out, he left me in charge

Like, no, Thursday, you’re a police officer and it’s your job to carry out the law, not allow an abuse situation to escalate to the point where the wife is forced to kill her husband in self-defence and then lie about it. And i’m positive that this was a quote featured on the official Endeavour Twitter page when the episode aired, so I think we’re meant to be like ‘oh yeah, that’s reasonable’, not ‘uhhhhhh wtf’.

Another, more recent example: season 7. During episode 1, ‘Oracle’, Thursday believes that Carl Sturgis is guilty of the murder of Molly Andrews - his girlfriend - on the towpath. He is questioned. He says he is innocent, and also has an alibi for the murder. Morse believes that Sturgis is innocent; Thursday believes he is guilty.

[SEASON 7 SPOILERS]

Thursday then spends the rest of the season following Sturgis around, trying to find evidence that he’s the towpath killer. Morse finds out about this and tells him to stop. He doesn’t stop. A different man is caught in the act at the towpath, and after being chased by a group of young women, is hit by a car and dies. It’s decided that he was the towpath killer.

Then, Strange searches a house that turns out to be owned by Sturgis. During this search, Strange finds a kidnapped woman, Jenny Tate, in an upstairs room. It turns out that Sturgis did kill Molly Andrews, and all of the other young women at the towpath, and that the man who died at the towpath was a copycat killer. Thursday’s actions here - stalking Carl Sturgis - are justified by the narrative because Sturgis was guilty all along, despite there being evidence to the contrary, and lawfully Thursday should not have been pursuing Sturgis after he was released from police custody.

But the worst thing Thursday does is literal police violence - and on quite a few occasions.

The “Good” Police officers

Now, I’m going to talk about two instances within the show where Thursday uses unlawful violence, and people within the CID cover up for him.

1. Coda.

(disclaimer: i haven’t watched this episode in ages, so if i get a fact wrong i’m sorry but i know the general gist is right)

Thursday is interrogating Bernie Waters, a young man with connections to the Matthews gang. He wants information about... something, I think it might be regarding a possible power struggle within the gang, or a crime somewhere. Morse is waiting outside, unaware of what Thursday is doing. He goes into the warehouse where Thursday and Waters are, to find Thursday... it’s unclear what he’s doing, honestly, the scene is framed so we can’t see properly, but it’s enough to cause Waters pain, and when Thursday lets go, Waters is bending over and breathing heavily.

Now, Morse doesn’t agree with this, and tells Thursday so. Morse: ‘I don’t remember anything about that in the Sergeant’s training manual’. He knows that Thursday isn’t above iffy conduct (he punches Teddy Samuels in the face in the pilot, and pays a newspaper salesman for information in Home). But in the end, out of loyalty to Thursday, Morse doesn’t mention it to Bright. (Similarly, in the pilot, Morse is outright asked by the CS if Thursday punched Samuels, and Morse says no, he didn’t.) Thursday gets away with it.

So, Morse is the so called “good” police officer. Telling Thursday he doesn’t agree with his methods isn’t going to get him to stop. He’s the one who people say, oh, but he doesn’t commit acts of violence towards members of the public. He just turns a blind eye to the officers that do do that.

And I don’t care that Waters is a criminal, or has connections to this gang. Police officers don’t beat up people so they give up information. That isn’t lawful.

2. Prey.

I had a conversation with another member of the fandom about this recently, and we both agreed that it really bothered us. For a large portion of the episode, the CID has in custody Mr Hodges, a park warden who offered a lift to Ingrid Hjort, a missing young woman. He’s also implicated in a similar case from around a year ago, in which a woman was sexually assaulted and left in a coma. He’s in custody for much of the episode, constantly changing his story about Hjort, but maintaining that they can’t prove his guilt. In a search of his property, Strange finds underwear belonging to the woman from a year ago, which would prove his guilt in that case. However, before Strange can return and present this evidence, Morse and Thursday are questioning Hodges again. Hodges says ‘I didn’t do it, and you can’t prove that I did’, while leering at Thursday. Thursday says ‘Can’t prove it, he says’, stands up and starts beating Hodges.

Again, this isn’t presented as a good thing. Morse attempts to pull Thursday off Hodges, and afterwards CS Bright yells at him, saying they’d just received evidence from Strange.

However, a plotline in this season is a bullet in Thursday’s lung, left from when he was shot at the end of the previous season’s finale, Neverland. This causes him pain and frequent coughing fits. And, you know, he’s dealing with a lot at home, like his son saying he wants to join the army. Bright understands this. Thursday is under a lot of pressure.

Then, Bright tells Thursday that he will write in his report that Hodges fell down the stairs on the way back to his cell.

So this time, instead of having a junior officer showing loyalty by not reporting an incident, we have a senior officer lying to protect his subordinate. And again, it’s framed like Bright is proving his loyalty to Thursday, but... police officers should not beat up people they’re questioning. Like Bright said, they had just gathered enough evidence to charge Hodges, so this was unnecessary.

Other incidents of note

There’s a lot to talk about in Inspector Morse and Lewis too, but I’m not going to elaborate on them in this post. If you want me to, drop me a reply or DM and I will. These include:

- Morse lying about his identity in order to gain entry to a suspect’s college rooms (Inspector Morse, ‘The Dead of Jericho’)

- Morse and Lewis entering a possible suspect’s flat without a warrant (Inspector Morse, ‘Last Seen Wearing’)

- Lewis entering a member of the public’s house and threatening her child by shouting in his face and grabbing his arms (Lewis, ‘Expiation’. This is called out in the episode by CS Innocent, however she doesn’t actually punish him in any way, and it’s framed as if Lewis’s actions were perfectly reasonable because the child was withholding information. It’s also worth noting that this child is black.)

- Hathaway threatening a teenager after he possibly is lying during a murder investigation (Lewis, ‘Intelligent Design’. The teenager commits suicide soon after, and it’s strongly implied that while the threats weren’t the sole cause of him killing himself, they were the breaking point for him.)

- Lewis and Hathaway hounding a suspect for the entirety of an episode despite him not being guilty of anything (Lewis, ‘The Mind Has Mountains’)

- Edit: Morse lying about a woman's involvement in several murders in order to get her a lesser sentence (Inspector Morse, 'Service of All the Dead')

General points

Often in police shows, the police officers commit actions which, while illegal, are framed within the show as being necessary evils. For example, two detectives have strong reason to believe a suspect is guilty. Instead of obtaining a search warrant, they enter the suspect’s house without one and search the place for evidence. They end up finding evidence that the suspect is guilty. Despite the fact that the detectives broke the law by illegally searching the house, they are justified by the fact that they found enough evidence to prosecute the guilty person. We, the viewers, are meant to find these illegal actions reasonable because they ultimately lead to justice being served; the ends justify the means. Well, no. In the case of police officers breaking the law, they don’t.

Conclusion

Endeavour is hardly the worst example of ‘copaganda’, i.e. propaganda specifically designed to paint the police force in a positive, rosy light. It’s set in the 1960s, it isn’t relevant in the 21st century. Nevertheless, I believe that any show where the main characters are police officers is a form of copaganda, even if unintentionally. We are meant to side with the protagonist in any media (unless they’re an antihero, which is not the case in Endeavour). In Endeavour, the protagonist is Morse, who is a police officer. The majority of the main characters are also police officers. No matter how morally grey Thursday is painted as, he is still a protagonist.

I’m not saying we should stop watching Endeavour. It’s one of my favourite shows. But, when a show incorporates police officer characters and police violence, we need to think critically about it. We need to challenge the ideas put forwards in the show instead of just accepting them. Yes, there are more important things to be worrying about right now, but I wanted to make this post because the murder of George Floyd and the ongoing riots in Minneapolis made me consider the implications of television shows which paint the police force as the good guys, because we live in a world where the police force are not the good guys. And when our media is telling us that they are, we need to stop, take a step back, and think about why that is.

Resources:

Official George Floyd memorial fund: https://www.gofundme.com/f/georgefloyd

Minnesota Freedom Fund (raising money to pay bail for those arrested in the Minnesota riots): https://minnesotafreedomfund.org/donate

Change.org petitions to hold the police officer who murdered George Floyd accountable: https://www.change.org/p/mayor-jacob-frey-justice-for-george-floyd?utm_content=cl_sharecopy_22414602_en-US%3Av4&recruited_by_id=2b2e5010-a181-11ea-8693-a9223455fd7b&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=copylink&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf_combo_share_initial

 https://www.change.org/p/minneapolis-police-dept-hold-minneapolis-police-accountable-for-killing-george-floyd-as-he-begs-don-t-kill-me

Black Lives Matter website: https://blacklivesmatter.com/

A report of the independent review of deaths and serious incidents in police custody. This is very long, and even so only a general overview, but I would recommend Trends in deaths in police custody and suicides following police custody and section 13, Police Misconduct: https://assets.publishing.service.gov.uk/government/uploads/system/uploads/attachment_data/file/655401/Report_of_Angiolini_Review_ISBN_Accessible.pdf

Some graphs showing deaths in police custody in England and Wales over the past decade: https://www.inquest.org.uk/deaths-in-police-custody

Article about increase in deaths in police custody in the UK: https://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/home-news/police-custody-deaths-uk-latest-increase-2017-a8462616.html

[hvproductions]

FLAMES OF DREAMS SERIES: GODS & MONSTERS PAIRING: Reader x Ivar the Boneless FANDOM: Vikings WORD COUNT: 1720

CHAPTER 1 I CHAPTER 2 I CHAPTER 3 I CHAPTER 4 I CHAPTER 5 I CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7: DANGER IN YOUR EYES

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

It broke your heart to see your sister in pain.

At night, she would wake up with a loud scream, followed by tears that never seemed to stop flowing. Your tight hugs did barely nothing to help her, and the loud sobs broke your heart. You were helpless and forced to witness her sadness without no power to help her ease the grief she was feeling.

At day, Darelle wasn’t any better. She didn’t show her tears to no one, but the redness of her eyes was one the many indicators of what the girl spent her time doing. Not that anyone cared for her. The people of Harald’s kingdom barely paid you two any mind. They seemed to be more focused on Heahmund, especially after his declaration of whose side he was now fighting on.

You understood his reasoning and didn’t view him as a traitor like Darelle did. She was quick to accuse him of betrayal; you, however, couldn’t force yourself to agree with your younger sister. If Heahmund was a traitor, then who were you? He had been a captive just like the two of you, and his situation was not any different. No matter how hard you tried to make Darelle see that, the girl stayed true to her beliefs.

Fortunately for you, Harald had granted you permission to walk around the kingdom without any escort, much to Ivar's dismay. You took every moment you could to get away from everyone; there was a secluded spot near the docks that you liked to visit often. The view it provided reminded you of Essex and the sea surrounding it. It even managed to make you falsely believe you were home until your mind reminded you of the truth - you were too far from Essex.

It was early in the morning when you sat at the same spot, your mind clouded by the mass of thoughts going through your mind. Most of them featured Darelle, and the fact that soon you would be leaving - once again - to a new place the Northmen had called Kattegat. A part of you worried over the fact that you were dragged to a fight you had no part in; the other part of you dreamed of the possible outcomes of the fight. If Ivar was to fall, whose to stop you from leaving and returning to Essex once more?

You jumped up when you heard a branch snap from behind you; in an instant you were grabbed by a pair of hands while another one stopped you from screaming out loud. You tried to do as much damage as you could to the assailant, but failed to do so. The bearded man in front of you suddenly took out a dagger and placed it onto your throat, his eyes burning with fury while yours were filled with fear.

“Christian bitch.” He hissed with anger, the tip of his blade dragging across your exposed neck. You were sure he would use his weapon on you any time soon; startlingly for you, the fear you had felt had disappeared and was replaced with much more ferosity than his.

You were about to dare him to act when another dagger landed on his neck. You were instantly released as the other man was about to attack your savior, yet he didn’t manage to draw his sword before one pierced through his body. You stumbled away from the falling bodies only to see that it was Ivar, his face covered in blood and a worried look that was only focused on you. 

“Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” He asked hurriedly, taking a step closer to you. His hand gently stroked your cheek, an action that took you by surprise. You shook your head, and for a second the two of you didn’t say anything, simply stared into each other’s eyes.

It was the first time you truly noticed him. His eyes were definitely the most striking part of him; what surprised you the most was to see worry in them, but behind the worry there was sadness. The man in front of you was not whole - as much as you tried to, you couldn’t understand what could possibly be missing in his life. He had already achieved so much, and you were sure he would do many great things in the future.

You hated yourself for thinking him handsome. He had taken everything from you, and yet, you couldn’t stop thinking how in another reality perhaps you would have even been happy to marry him.

Ivar suddenly seemed to noticed his thumb brushing the piece of hair out of your face; clearing his throat, he retreated it and took a step back, his eyes landing on the now two dead bodies around you. He would have to deal with the aftermath of what his anger had caused him to do; to ease your mind, he decided not to tell you of their customs whenever someone was killed.

Ivar himself was the witness of the ordeal; knowing Harald, he would most definitely believe Ivar over you. 

In silence, he escorted you back to your room, not giving a glance to those who stared at his bloody face. And before you could thank him, he was gone.

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

You sat in silence next to Ivar, Harald sitting on your other side. The king tried his best to include you in a conversation with him and his wife Ingrid, yet the concise sentences made him quickly realize you were not in a mood to converse with him. 

It bothered you to the core that you hadn’t had the chance to thank Ivar yet. You were sure it was because of his interference you weren’t dead. He had left in a hurry; you couldn’t help but to wonder if it was because of the moment you had had prior. You couldn’t understand why you even cared what he thought. It was evident that he too was mostly occupied by his thoughts during the feast, and he barely paid you any mind, mostly talking to Harald as well as to his brother.

Luckily, Darelle looked to be in a happier mood; sitting opposite you, she and Hvitserk seemed to be getting along better than you and Ivar. Her laughing at a joke by Hvitserk made you raise your eyebrow - she seemed to enjoy his company and had forgotten about her worries. It was evident something had happened during the day that made her change her behavior. What worried you was that she hadn’t come to you about it, meaning that whatever it was, it was something that you wouldn’t approve of.

“Today is a full moon. Let us attack at two moons’ time.” Ivar’s declaration finally pulled you from your thoughts; glancing at Harald, he was quick to agree by his proposal. The verbal agreement was sealed by a toast. One of the first things you learnt about their customs was that whenever said a toast, everyone drank. You and Darelle were quick to follow the action; the cold ale felt as a nice change, one that you finished perhaps too rushly.

“So,” Harald started, his eyes on Ivar before turning his full attention to you, “Ivar told me what happened. On behalf of my kingdom, I apologize. I can assure you that nothing like this will never happen again.”

It was obvious that Darelle and Hvitserk had no knowledge of what had happened; their eyes full of confusion, Darelle looked at you for answers which you decided not to give, your eyes not meeting hers. Hvitserk looked at Ivar, yet the man barely paid him any mind.

When Harald placed his hand on top of yours - for whatever reason - Ivar instantly noticed it. He tried his best not to show any emotion, even though the only thing he wanted to do was to grab his dagger and drive it through Harald’s hand. The glare that he sent Harald went unnoticed by you, yet not by Hvitserk. They might have not been the closest, but Hvitserk knew his brother, especially when something bothered him. 

The sight bothered Ivar so much that it caused him to jump up from his seat and walk off without saying anything. You retreated your hand in confusion, looking him leaving and debating whether to follow him or not; from the corner of your eye you could clearly see the satisfied smirk on Harald’s face, one that matched Ingrid’s. 

Quickly excusing yourself you ran after Ivar; when you reached outside he was nowhere to be seen. Only after walking around for a couple of minutes you saw him at the edge of the forest, throwing his dagger into a tree and retreating it, over and over again. You slowly approached him and when he noticed you he said nothing, taking a seat on the ground and playing with the tip of his blade.

Your eyes focused on the man and without saying anything you took a seat next to him, staring ahead at the sky which was embellished by the full moon and the thousands of stars. It was a pleasant night, if only it hadn’t been for Ivar’s loud breathing which was so obviously filled with anger. You wanted to comment on it, but he beat you to it when he suddenly declared: “King Harald likes you.”

The way he said it made you believe for a second that he was jealous; you quickly assured yourself that there was no way he could have been.

“He may like me, but I do not return his feelings.” You declared confidently. Ivar turned his head to look at you, his eyes searching for confirmation of what you had said. He gained it easily, and he instantly felt calmer - yet he knew Harald, and he knew he had no problem taking what he wanted by force.

“Thank you for saving me today.” You said, fiddling nervously with the sleeve of your dress which Ivar quickly picked up.

“I’ve seen you fight. You fight better than any of our shieldmaidens. Soon you’ll be saving me from battle.” A small chuckle escaped from your lips which caused Ivar to smile. The air felt lighter than before as the two of you spent hours simply staring at the beautiful night sky. 

||| ||| ||| ||| |||

I @youbloodymadgenius​​ I @saldelys​​ I @readsalot73​​ I @sawendel​​ I @angelenemies​​ I @heavenly1927​​ I @affection-rabbit​​ I @kingniazx​​ I @crackhead1-800​​ I @joebob15274​​ I @yepimthatperson​​ I @lol-haha-joke​​ I @alexa4040​​ I @inforapound​​ I @the-jess-life​​ I @emmalbg I @selflovewithbrig I @thisiswhatmakesusqueens​

[artsy-hobbitses]

Because my nostalgic ass had been wanting to do this for a SUPER long time, have some Humanized!Mighty Ducks! It’s funny to see how far I’ve kinda come, because I had a strong love for this and most other anthro shows back in the 90s bc they looks excellent but also because I couldn’t draw humans worth a god damn and ended up anthro-ing all the humans, but now I can human the anthros :’B Also because I have no self-control, actual human names and backgrounds below. I might actually have to write this AU at some point. 

WILLIAM ‘WILL’ FLETCHER ie. ‘WILDWING’

30yrs

Canadian (Eh)

Half-brother to Nate Fletcher (Same father, different mothers). Despite this, they have a generally good relationship with each other.

It doesn’t mean they don’t have their issues however; Will believes his father chose Nate as the man stayed with Nate and Nate’s mother, while Nate believes Will is the favorite because they never hear their dad stop comparing their accomplishments as a troubled teen to straightlaced Will.

A decorated ice hockey player in his youth, won several state championships.

Formerly a member of the Canadian Armed Forces, did a security stint in Afghanistan from 2009-2014.

Returned to Canada, opened a youth hockey camp to leave behind his old life before the Saurian threat at which point he was called up by his absentee military father to help spearhead a team of saboteurs.

Initially reluctant, however the death of his best friend and former army comrade, Connor Tiberius, during a rescue of captured citizens spurns him to accept on his terms in which he picks the team members.

Responsible, dependable, good-natured, more bookish than his size and stature might suggest, some self-esteem issues and very much a wary but bleeding heart. In his baby brother’s affectionate words, a “Major Dweeb”.

Trilingual; Canadian-French, English (fluent), Pashto (intermediate).

His codename ‘Wildwing’ came from Connor, who affectionately gave it to him as he was the best ‘wingman’ a soldier could ask for on the field and his habit of going from bookish to ballistic when faced with any injustice. His civilian outfit includes a bomber jacket with wings decorated over the back to commemorate his best friend.

Literally the only member of the team to actually be associated with ice hockey. The others picked it up gradually as a way to bond with each other and discuss battle tactics.

NATHAN ‘NATE’ FLETCHER ie. ‘NOSEDIVE’

20yrs

American

Half-brother to Will Fletcher, unofficially the ‘team baby’ which is something he tries hard to break out of.

Seen as a delinquent in his youth and battling with ADHD, his father strongarmed him to enlist with the Air Force when he was 17 to try and ‘shape him up’ and while he absolutely bucked under the chains of command, he proved to be a natural at flying which both amazed and frustrated his officers when he would ace their flying exams but often break out to fly the planes when he wasn’t suppose to.

Due to perceived attitude problems, he was dismissed much to the anger of his father, but was quickly roped into the same role by Will who saw his potential in combating Dragaunus’ forces.

Hotheaded, impulsive and immature but also loyal, gregarious and friendly to a fault.

Will not stand for anyone badmouthing Will. That’s his brother and only he’s allowed to joke about them.

Codename ‘Nosedive’ was chosen because of the stunts he used to pull in the plane and also as a take-that moment to his father who would often complain about how everything good they tried to do for ‘this kid’ would ‘nosedive into shit’.

Oscillates between loving Will as the only family member to have really given a damn about him and see any potential in him at all and resenting Will for in his eyes, being everything he felt he couldn’t be.

Often in charge of flying the team jet.

Bilingual; English (fluent), Canadian-French (beginner. For Will, he’s trying).

MALLORY MACKENZIE

27yrs

Irish-American

A former cop who idolized her Sergeant mother who was killed helping to defend NYC from Dragaunus’ marauding forces.

She knows Will as a good friend through Connor Tiberius who was an old boyfriend prior to his death.

Has been tracking Duke’s movements for some time prior to the invasion, dead-set on bringing the jewel thief to justice. Not particularly enthused about his way of life, but does care for him in her own way as it was during their little chases that she would have conversations she couldn’t have had otherwise with someone she believed would have no role to play in her life outside of prison time.

When he consoled her after the death of her mother and she had to tend to him after he was gravely injured during a rescue, a strained friendship grew as they defended NYC together for a while with her banding together the remaining cops of the Central Park precinct and him putting together a coalition of small-time criminals who turned their tricks to beat off the alien invasion until Will called her up as a member of his new saboteur team.

In a spur of the moment, she asked Duke to come with her, vouching for his set of skills to Will and despite their back-and-forth snarking (mostly snarking from her, mostly teasing from him), they work with each other the best out of the team.

Her hatred for Draganus is strongest out of all the team and of all of them, she’s the most adept at hand-to-hand combat.

Has no use for code names—-the people she loves are dead or on the same team as her so she sees no point to it.

Pugnacious, Black-And-white view of the world and judgmental but also confident, decisive and fiercely determined. If she has her mind set something, she’s Terminator levels of terrifying to see it through.

Speaks only English but understands Arabic and French to an intermediate degree even if she can’t trust her tongue to speak it, if only to understand what Duke is saying at times (as he unwittingly tends to jump between his three ‘fluent’ languages in conversation).

DULQUER LATEEF ie. ‘DUKE L’ORANGE’

35yrs

French-Algerian

A renown jewel thief (simply known as the ‘Duke’) with a knack for stealing blood diamonds from diamond barons to channel their proceeds back to the communities they were pilfered from. Actually thinks the diamond industry is a huge joke, but it’s a joke some morons pay insanely dangerous amounts of money for. Prefers other jewels on a personal basis (fond of rubies and amethysts)

Ran his own gang back in France called the Brotherhood of the Blade, got caught up in the invasion when he decided to work his heists in New York.

His codename came from the inability of people to properly pronounce his name in his youth and so ‘Dulq’ became ‘Duke’ in due time. ‘L’Orange’ was what happened when having to come up with a surname on the spot during a heist in the States, he blurted out the first vaguely-French word he could remember which was ‘L’Orange’ ie. ‘duck a l’orange’ which was what a former target of his ordered and when his gang brethren found out, it amused them so much they talked him into keeping it as a full part of his nom de plume. He keeps it, because it helps his remaining family stay safe that no one knows his real name and he prefers it that way.

He and Mallory had something he likes to describe as a ‘dance’, with her continuously tracking him down and him escaping her clutches at the last moment. He’s absolutely tickled that they’re now on the same team.

Cares for the team the deepest due to having run his own back home and missing the brotherhood and his own family, always aware of everyone’s emotional and physical condition to the point he disregards his own at times.

Seriously, hurt his new family and you die.

The most streetwise of the team and adept with any form of blade-play and stealth/subterfuge.

Lost his eye and gained the scar on his face fending off ‘Wraith’ for as long as he could from a geologist with knowledge of Beryllium crystals.

The cybernetic eye he hides behind his eyepatch was given to him by Mallory who came across it while evacuating scientists (Including Tanya) from a lab under siege. She obtained it as willing ‘payment’ from them and had them help install it on Duke, claiming that he was only as much use to the rebellion as the clarity of his depth of field. (In truth, was well aware of how shaken he was from the loss of his eye). Cybernetic eye has x-ray and heat-seeking capabilities.

Fond of Mallory (who he may or may not be harboring feelings for but is also aware that he’s greying, a criminal and damaged, like who’s he kidding), Tanya (something of a younger sister to him especially since she’s the scientist who helped install his new eye) and Will (who he treats like a little brother he gotta teach the workings of the streets to).

Egoistical, questionable morals and unconcerned with ‘the big picture’ of global invasion but also surprisingly compassionate, open-minded and does his best to see the good in everyone (He’s a thief eh?)

Something of an omniglot due to his background and the different people he ends up having to work with; Fluent in French, English and Arabic, intermediate in Mandarin, Spanish and Italian, beginner in Japanese and Russian.

TANYA VANDERBILT

30yrs

German

A scientist working mostly with cyberkinetics who also made use of Beryllium crystals (the same the Saurians are coveting) in her technology and upon the invasion, her entire lab and research became a target.

She was rescued by Mallory and has since then tagged along with the fiery redhead who sees her as a sister, augmenting her gear and weapons where needed and even providing Duke with his energy sword.

Absolutely not a combatant, has no field experience and is most often found back at the base playing her role as Command central or guarding the ship while the group go on their recon missions.

Sees herself as deadweight sometimes though her comrades will always attest that they’d probably be dead out there if not for her tech and in-depth knowledge.

Meek, easily terrified and a bit of a pushover, but also innovative, multi-talented in diverse sections of science and always eager to help.

Speaks English and German, understands intermediate Japanese due to most of her lab co-workers.

CASSIUS ‘CASH’ HARDING ie. ‘GRIN’

40yrs

African-American

Originally a pro-wrestler working the circuits, he was caught up in the Saurian invasion and captured as a test subject in order for the invaders to figure out the biological weaknesses and breaking point of humans at their prime.

Was the subject of multiple experiments, but strove to keep up the spirits of his fellow prisoners by way of story, meditation and keeping a genial facade.

Was among the prisoners Conrad attempted to free before they died, led the prisoner rebellion and immediately joined up as a member of Will’s team upon finding out that he was Conrad’s best friend—-paying off his dues, as it were.

Unfortunately for the Saurians, their experiments had been in the midst of testing out how much augmented strength a human body could take before breaking, which left him with well, augmented strength to go with an extremely high pain threshold from both his old job and his ordeal. That said, the strength comes with a caveat that prolonged use of it could lead to organ failure due to the strain he has to put on them and thus he’s only able to work with it for short bursts of five to ten minutes depending on the task.

Despite his size, is generally the pacifist of the group more concerned with keeping people safe than facing down Dragaunus’ hordes—he leaves that to the actual soldiers. If you pissed him off in some way, you have fucked up super bad.

Bonds with Will and Nate quickly, rather like a stable older brother or uncle figure who realizes these two worlds-apart siblings have issues and are way over their head with these new responsibilities and tries his best to keep them grounded.

Hesitant, tendency to shy away from confrontation and almost on an emotional lockdown but also amicable, stoic and uncannily perceptive.

Speaks mostly English with a strong smattering/understanding of Jamaican Creole.

The codename ‘Grin’ came from his tendency to ‘grin and bear it’ when it came to punishment or altercations.

[elenamcwrites]

folklore - a reading

If you’re a swiftie (officially not capitalized now), like me, you’ve probably been experiencing the mystical reverb and spiritual reckoning that is folklore. You’ve also probably been reading plenty of reviews and analysis articles--there are some stellar articles out there already.

Listening to the album is like lying in a meadow over the course of a summer day, afternoon thunderstorm, and the harsh sunset that comes afterwards, spiraling through memories and contemplation. It’s the best of the worst feelings you’ll ever have, and you can’t stop.

So, compulsively, I had to share my own interpretations and thoughts as I listen to the album again for the 7th time.

the 1 - Starting out with just piano, and then turning into what feels like a casual bop, the attitude of this song starts out very ‘I Forgot That You Existed’. And we hold onto that cavalier, ‘oh well’ attitude until... UNTIL. “If my wishes came true, it would’ve been you.” That line starts the slow ache that builds through the end of the track and makes this song much more more layered and complex than the first song of Lover. Perhaps this is a more honest version of the same feeling. Swift digs deep into that nostalgic feeling, letting us vibe to the wistful wishing at the same time. And of course, there is foreshadowing in the lyrics--film, graves, rose, chosen-family, painting. All of these reappear later on in various songs on the album, and some have been themes from earlier albums, too (especially graves).

Highlight lyric: “In my defense I have none // for digging up the grave another time.”

cardigan - We start with a beat that sounds reminiscent of “high heels on cobblestones,” and it emphasizes this early imagery. Being young is one of the major themes of this song, even though it’s also part of the triptych of songs about a love triangle. The nostalgia feels more specific to young love generally than to the specific lover, asking us to wonder why we judge the young perspective so harshly. The song is an anthem to how much she knew about love, including the pain of it, despite what people say. Swift has shown a special appreciation for the wisdom and raw experience of youth, and this song is another classic defense of the teenage experience. The metaphors in this song are classic Swift, and the structure of this song is reminiscent of ‘All Too Well’--the chorus lyrics change just a bit each time, and we get a powerful, gut-punch verse at the end.

Highlight lyric: “I knew you’d haunt all of my what-ifs // the smoke would hang around this long // cause I knew everything when I was young.”

the last great american dynasty - ‘The Man’ was probably Swift’s first real feminist anthem, directly stating how sexism affects her career and the perception people have of her. But this song gets at feminism from another perspective. First of all, she’s telling the story of Rebekah Harkness, who was the heiress that lived in her Rhode Island mansion before her. She was a trouble-maker in her town, blamed for her husband’s death and for ruining the calm status quo of the old money neighborhood. It’s completely apparent that Swift relates to this experience, and she likely knew some of this story before she purchased her home. In telling the story of a powerful, interesting woman, Taylor is rebelling against the patriarchy in a slightly subtler way than her previous songs--though she still makes her point pretty clear. Swift cares about the herstory of her home, and she’s made this story iconic by including it on her album. It’s like she took the idea of ‘Starlight,’ but instead of retelling a happy love story, she used her powers for an even more important tale. Now, there are also two potential connections to note: Rebekah also went by Betty, and her maiden name was West. Just remember that. And of course, the theme of the mad woman returns later as well.

Highlight lyric: “who knows if I never showed up what would have been // there goes the most shameless woman this town has ever seen // she had a marvelous time ruining everything.”

exile - I like to imagine this song as the follow up to ‘The Last Time,’ from Red. Both are duets, and they both have relatively simple, but strong chords as the primary musical backdrop. Where ‘The Last Time’ depicts a relationship at the cusp, moments before their final conversation, ‘exile’ is post break-up. She’s out with someone new, and we understand this is an unspoken conversation across a room. And the vibe of the songs fit with this progression perfectly. ‘The Last Time’ feels like anxious desperation, but exile feels heavy and depressingly final. We revisit the film motif, and there’s some potential connection to the archived ‘If This Was A Movie’. Now, is that intentional, or does Swift just really like movie imagery? Does it matter? The build in this song is arguably the best on the album, which I think is partly due to the style of the musicality, and partly because it’s helpful to have a lower voice to mix it up. This song sounds the least ‘Swift-esque’ to me--reminds me of Damien Rice most of all--but it still fits beautifully into the album. Also, lots of callbacks in here--town and crown are used a LOT in her prior albums. A few examples: “You traded your baseball cap for a crown” in ‘Long Live’, “They took the crown but it's alright” in ‘Call it What You Want,’ “Staring out the window like I’m not your favorite town” in ‘False God.’ Now, again, these could just be words that she loves to use (they also rhyme with a lot), or there could be some deeper connections. I’m guessing it’s somewhere in the middle.

highlight lyric: “second, third, and hundredth chances // balancin' on breaking branches // those eyes add insult to injury”

my tears ricochet - I’ll admit this song had to grow on me a little bit. Why? Well, I don’t love revenge-ballads. But, this is much more complex than LWYMMD, and like the rest of the album, it centers the more vulnerable side of her anger. This song is 100% about Big Machine Records and Scooter Braun. The funeral is for her--or the version of herself that died just before Reputation--and she is back as a ghost (or another version of herself) to haunt those who caused her death. It’s slow, moody, haunted... Everything you want from a bitter funeral march. The best part of this song is that she doesn’t solely pass blame. She shows off her self-awareness, which has become more common in all her music since 1989, but still very clearly places responsibility on Scooter for her ‘stolen lullabies’ (i.e. her masters). Swift claims this song is about young love gone wrong--but, death is a pretty intense metaphor, and given that she blatantly used it (for the first, and maybe only time?) to talk about her career, I don’t think anyone is buying it.

highlight lyric: “I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace // and you’re the hero flying around saving face”

mirrorball - Maybe I’m just a biased toward romantic and nostalgic songs, because I don’t love this one either. (I’m sorry!) But, here’s what I’ll say: this song is still exquisite. It reminds me of the reverb-radio-vibe of the late 80s songs, but with the astral, saccharine flavor of the rest of the album. If you condensed the Miss Americana documentary into a song, this would be it. A reflection (get it?) of fame and her desire to be everything to everyone--to be well liked, to be the center of attention. The coolest thing about ‘mirrorball,’ to me, is that she hasn’t written a song quite like this before. It’s sort of a manic-pixie-dream-girl version of herself. Swift is telling us that she knows who she is, and that comes with seeing the less ‘pretty’ side.

highlight lyric: “I’m still a believer, but I don’t know why // I’ve never been a natural, all I do is try, try try.”

seven - Can you say haunting innocence? This is a great song for half-attentive listening in the sun, and it could almost be a lullaby. In Swift-lore, the theme of childhood shows up every so often, like in ‘Mary’s Song,’ ‘The Best Day,’ ‘It’s Nice to Have a Friend,’ and ‘Christmas Tree Farm.’ This one is definitely the most dreamy, and it is also tinged with that darkness that consistently underlies all the tracks on this album--“Are there still beautiful things?” Imagine a sepia filter, and that’s kind of what this song embodies. Some fans have wondered about this song as a possible hint to bisexuality and/or relationships with women in general. (See Kaylor fan theories if you want to dive deep.) I can see this--the childhood friend has braids, which could imply she’s a little girl, and they ‘hide in the closet’. However, it seems more likely to me that this is coincidence. Lots of kids play in their closets, and if the song is about the friend’s father being angry all the time (and maybe abusive?) hiding in the closet also makes literal sense. I think the imagery in this song is some of my favorite on this album. 

Another interesting point that I haven’t seen discussed so far is that Swift names this song ‘seven’ spelled out, yet uses the number ‘1′ in the first track title. The only other track she uses numbers in the name is ‘22′, which is about being 22. So, she could be trying to push past the idea that ‘seven’ is just about being 7 years old--though I do think it’s about that, too. She could also be intentionally connecting ‘the 1′ to ‘22′ in some way. They are both a similar vibe, and perhaps they even refer to the same time period in her life. If we go with that theory, who was T dating at 22? The most likely candidate for that timeframe is Conor Kennedy, which was sort of short-lived, and didn’t seem to end with as much fire as many of her break-ups. So, it’s possible that it’s about him. Or, maybe she just wanted to make sure we knew that ‘the 1′ was a concept she doesn’t really believe in anyway, and didn’t want to grant it the full word ‘one’. Will we ever know?

highlight lyric: “Before I learned civility // I used to scream // Ferociously // Any time I wanted”

august - It seems clear to me that this is the second song in the love-triangle narrative. I’ve heard people claim this is ‘illicit affairs’, but those people obviously haven’t looked at the lyrics. The narrator says ‘James, get in the car,’ which is directly connected to the lyrics in ‘betty.’ But, even without that obvious link, the style of august fits in with the stylistic choices of ‘cardigan’ and ‘betty’. All three have strong instrumental tracks complementing the vocals, soft harmonies, and lots of wistful lyrics. ‘illicit affairs’ cuts much sharper and deeper, but more on that later. Combining the dreamy vibes of ‘seven’ with the slight bop of ‘the 1′, this track is sticky--easy to get stuck in your head. The only thing I wonder about this song is how old this narrator is meant to be. They’re drinking wine, and she references going ‘back to school,’ which sort of feels like a reference to the college experience. But, the betty and james characters make numerous references that feel like high school. So, maybe this affair took place in another city with a college girl? I have to wonder if this is Swift referencing some of the age-gap relationships she’s been in. Again, with Conor Kennedy, she was 22, and he was 18. She also supposedly crashed his sister’s wedding in August, and that was the start of the end of their short romance. I’m just saying...

highlight lyric: “Wanting was enough, for me it was enough // to live for the hope of it all.”

this is me trying - If ‘The Archer’ was Swift confessing to her bad habits after a couple early relationship fights, ‘this is me trying’ is a desperate reminder a few months into the relationship. The two songs are sonically very similar, and I didn’t love the vibe (sorry, again!) the first time. But, I do love the artistic continuation. ‘this is me trying’ slows us down even more than ‘The Archer’ did, with a drum line that is almost like a heart beat, and it feels much less hopeful as a result. The lyrics are also some of the darkest I’ve heard from Swift--”I got wasted like all my potential” and “could’ve followed my fears all the way down.” My heart almost can’t handle this song, to be honest. She also references films again, but my favorite imagery connection is her standing over the lookout, which calls back to Rebekah looking out over the sea in LGAD.

highlight lyric: “and maybe I don't quite know what to say // but I'm here in your doorway”

illicit affairs - This song has that ‘All Too Well’ ache with a hint of ‘Death by A Thousand Cuts’ energy, and personally, I love it. You’ve got the busy instrumental strings underneath a simple, yet haunting melody line, and it’s that light, anxious tension that fits beautifully with the theme of the song. The lyrics depict the simple, small heartbreaking things that remind you of the pain you’re putting yourself through, which is reflected in the slightly surprising, soaring note at the end of the line in the verses. Whether you’ve actually been involved in an affair, these feelings show up in plenty of toxic relationships, and that universality is part of what makes the song powerful. The lyrics aren’t about pretty images, but that’s sort of the point. It’s prime Swift conversational lyricism, and you could pick out any number of lines that make a painful short poem all by themselves. 

highlight lyric: “and you wanna scream // don’t call me “kid,” don’t call me “baby” // look at this godforsaken mess that you made me // you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else”

invisible string - The primary love song on the album, this feels like a follow up to ‘Lover,’ maybe something she’d sing after being married a year or two. It’s sort of like ‘Mine,’ but much more mature, partly indicated by the pace of the song, which is steady and sure of itself. It’s also lovely to me that she’s returned to a bit of her country vibes--I ask you, would it feel like true end-game love for Swift if she couldn’t write a country love song about it? Back when she wrote country, all her happy ending songs were merely aspirational, and now they feel true. This is also 100% about Joe Alwyn, and to me, this is proof they have not broken up like some early reviews speculated. We also need to acknowledge that she’s past the Joe Jonas break up (um, good, that was ages ago) and is sending him and Sophie presents for their baby. I read a review that basically said this song seems a little too ‘all tied up’ for Swift, and that it doesn’t feel as genuine as a result. I sort of agree, but if we can take a sad song and accept that it isn’t how she feels 100% of the time, can’t we also do that with happy songs? Plus, she technically does say that it would be ‘pretty to think,’ which sort of implies it’s more a thought experiment than an actual belief. So, there’s that little twinge of sadness we needed to appease the folklore goddess. Oh, and of course, there’s a reference to Lover’s color scheme, saying time “gave me the blues and then purple-pink skies.” Which, many Kaylor hopefuls read as a reference to the Bi pride flag. To that, I just say... Maybe?

highlight lyric: “time, mystical time // cutting me open, then healing me fine”

Mad woman - My favorite thing about this song is the piano melody that happens in the background the whole song, working in concert with the main melody, but also completely independent (and haunting). It reminds me of one concept of madness--having multiple voices or thoughts going on simultaneously. But of course, it’s artfully and perfectly put together, which is the whole point. What could be perceived as madness is, in this case, what makes her able to create a masterful work of art. Now, this is also certainly a song about her masters, Scooter Braun, and Scott Borchetta. But it is also another feminist anthem. Women are taught not to be angry, not to yell, not to react with any emotionality otherwise we are discredited entirely. Swift directly calls this to attention by explaining that we’re angry for a reason--often antagonized intentionally until ‘you find something to wrap your noose around.’ She also makes the important point that women can also ‘hunt witches,’ and can be complicit in treating one another poorly. This is a reference to Scooter Braun’s wife defending him publicly against Taylor. Probably the most savage line is about the ‘master of spin’ having affairs, which she implies his wife knows about and seems to passively accept. But Swift doesn’t go too hard on her, reminding us that ‘no one likes a mad woman’, and that pressure is real. Could this ‘master of spin’ also be Scooter? I think probably. But I did read that some people are connecting this song to Hillary Clinton (she’s a scorpio, and the song references a scorpion sting), and that maybe Trump is the adulterer here... I feel like that’s a stretch, but I appreciate the interpretation.

highlight lyric: “What a shame she went mad // You made her like that”

epiphany - I suspect this song is directly related to how Swift is processing the current state of the pandemic. The atmospheric vibe with slow, clock-ticking beat in the background really feels momentous and poignant. Yes, she starts with images conjured from her grandfather’s stories of World War II, but she quickly seems to compare this awful battle to the doctors fighting COVID-19 on the frontlines in hospitals. The lyrics are simple, repetitive, and powerful. With so many ill literally struggling to breathe, the lines about breathing out really do hit especially hard these days. I can’t believe that wasn’t a thoughtful choice. The chorus is just barely hopeful, reminiscent of the numbness we all have to use as a coping mechanism to get through traumatic experiences. But it’s that little sliver of hope that makes the song even sadder--is that possible?

highlight lyric: “only twenty minutes to sleep // but you dream of some epiphany // just one single glimpse of relief // to make some sense of what you've seen”

betty - Give me all that Tim McGraw, Love Story, early Taylor pop-country. This song is definitely enhanced in part because of its connections to ‘cardigan’ and ‘august,’ but it stands strong on its own. It’s old news at this point, but James and Inez are based on the names of Blake Lively and Ryan Reynolds’s daughters, so it’s all-but-confirmed that their third daughter was named Betty. Written from the perspective of James, there is massive speculation out there about whether the narrator is meant to be a boy or a girl. There are reasonable clues on both sides, so I’ll just say this: I love Taylor, but she’s always been a little late to the party when it comes to socialized ideas of male/female. Because of that, I don’t think she’d have a female narrator riding a skateboard. I also feel from the style of narration--“I don’t know anything;” “just a summer thing;” “would you tell me to go fuck myself”--it does sound more like stereotypical teenage boy language than what we know as swiftie teenage girl language. What I do like about this song, though, is that because it’s written from James’s perspective, it does sort of leave a wider opening for personal interpretation than some of her other love-story-like songs. The reason I personally love this song is that it’s mostly about redemption and forgiveness. Everyone has wished someone who broke their heart would write this song about them, and so it offers catharsis. Plus, it’s the only song on the album that truly feels happy at the end--thanks, key change! It’s refreshing and heartening, and it’s good timing, too. After the heaviest song on the album, we needed it. (Oh, and there’s a callback to the broken cobblestones from ‘cardigan’. And then he literally mentions her cardigan. So.)

highlight lyric: “if you kiss me // will it be just like I dreamed it? // will it patch your broken wings?”

peace - The vibe of this song is like laying on your couch in the summer with light coming in through the blinds and the ceiling fan is going around just fast enough to keep the warm air circulating, but not really cool you off. This song has a hint of ‘False God’ style, a little jazzy, but otherwise, it’s a pretty fresh feel for Swift. The message fits this thoughtful, lightly antsy feeling. She’s basically saying she wants to start a family with Joe (no, I don’t think she is literally pregnant yet) and settle down, but there is no real ‘settling down’ with her level of fame. I also think that Swift truly enjoys making music, performing, and engaging with her fans, and she doesn’t want to leave that life behind any time soon. So, she’s asking him if he can make that work. It’s, again, a mature vision of what a long-term relationship can actually look and feel like. Not all of us can truly relate to the burdens of fame, but there are other ways we can be unable to ‘give you peace’. No relationship is idyllic forever in the way romantic love often makes it out to be, and this song gives us a more realistic, consistent example. And just in case we thought this was just a nice song, the whole ‘clowns to the West’ is another potential Easter egg. In the lyric video, east is not capitalized, but West is. Most likely, this is a dig at Kanye. If we want to believe Taylor wasn’t being vengeful, it could potentially be a reference to Rebekah (West was her maiden name). I lean toward theory one, although it’s kind of amazing that it works out such that it connects to both.

highlight lyric: “but I'm a fire and I'll keep your brittle heart warm // if your cascade ocean wave blues come”

hoax - (Phew last one--I don’t have access to ‘the lakes’ yet) Swift can’t end the album without bringing us all back to the raw emotional space she opened up within us. This song brings back similar piano lines from ‘mad woman’ and the image of screaming on the cliffside. Chronologically, ‘hoax’ feels like it takes place after or during the death of her reputation, i.e. the feud with Kim and Kanye, when she was still very vulnerable. Based on timeline, this seems likely to be either Calvin Harris or Tom Hiddleston. It could really be some combination of the two, since many songs aren’t really about just one person. My gut tells me it’s primarily about Calvin, since she’s referenced that they didn’t have a very faithful relationship--”your faithless love’s the only hoax I believe in.” Both relationships travelled a lot--“I left a part of me in new york.” I’m guessing she’s referencing the feud with Harris over her writing credit on ‘This is What You Came For.’ She takes attacks on her career as seriously as hurtful relationships, and since she’s referencing being torn apart by the media when she says that “what you did was just as dark,” I think it’s likely that this also has something to do with hurting her reputation. It’s another hauntingly beautiful song, and you can totally imagine yourself out on that cliff looking at the midnight sea as the piano line ends.

highlight lyric: “you knew the password, so I let you in the door // you knew you won, so what's the point of keeping score?”

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

Overall, the album is my favorite of Taylor’s so far for two reasons: 1) the continuity in both theme and sound is stellar, and 2) there aren’t any songs that I don’t like. Usually, there are 1-3 songs on Taylor’s albums that are either forgettable or too on-the-nose for my taste. I’m sure that is a product, in part, of having to craft songs for radio-play and for her amazing, cinematic live shows. Having given herself the freedom to make whatever music she wanted without thinking (so much) about whether they’d top the charts or be good for a stadium concert, she made an album without a single ‘pop just because’ track.

Now the real question is... What will she do with the remaining 6 months of quarantine???

[overplannedbutunnamednpc]

Ecstasy: 4, 31 Legacy: 13, 22 Zephyr: 19, 26!

Ecstasy

4. Things you said instead of “I love you”

“Where’re you getting off to so quickly, darling?”

It wasn’t as if Raini had never stayed the night before. Rather, Ecstasy was hoping that it had become something of a routine. Or if it wasn’t, Ecstasy was big enough to admit that she certainly wanted it to be. Not even for the reason of morning sex - though she did have to admit that there is something very gratifying about how good a mood Raini’s in one hour after waking versus one minute after waking.

“Motherfuckers,” comes the reply, which isn’t actually very surprising.

Ecstasy lies back down, her interest in waking up waning now that she’s got no real reason to stay in bed. “What do they have you doing, then, angel?”

Raini waves her hand vaguely. “The usual. Danger for the reason of doing good.”

“Mm. Classified, huh?” Ecstasy opens her eyes to watch Raini getting dressed, and finds herself sitting up. There’s a scar on her back, angry red, the kind of thing that healing magic was only able to patch up superficially, relying on Raini’s body to do the rest of the work while it went on its merry way to help out with the other deep cuts and breaks that would also have been life-threatening.

She finds herself reaching out to touch it, only interrupted by the curtain of fabric as Raini tugs her robes over her head. Ecstasy blinks, the image of the scar curdling her good humor as Raini pops the cork on the healing potion Ecstasy has so kindly left out on the vanity, Raini taking a few sips every time she comes over to clear away the hickies Ecstasy leaves every time. She imagines that it clears some of the redness of the scar, as well, but finds that her mood is still sour about the whole thing.

Regardless, Raini is responding, in the infuriatingly blasé way that Raini can respond when something either matters a lot or not at all. “And dangerous. I’d never bring you into it. Safer that way, etcetera. Plus Lent would hate it if you interfered.”

Ecstasy has to remind herself not to pout about this. Something about “danger” and “Raini” going together has started to ruffle her feathers, and seeing the physical evidence of that when Raini was meant to be staying way back and being protected by her party -

Well. Anyway.

“You wound me, princess,” Ecstasy says, and lets Raini get her put-upon sigh out of the way before continuing, “Sure you can’t be a few minutes - well, maybe a few hours late?”

She watches Raini turn around, probably intending to give a very clear negative, but then again, Ecstasy cuts a pretty nice figure sprawled across the bed, naked with her tail flicking in something Raini doesn’t have to know is frustration at the ‘danger’ part of this situation. So as soon as there’s a flicker of considering on the wizard’s face, Ecstasy pounces.

“C’mon, cupcake. I’ll be gentle with you.”

And it gets her a scoff and an eye roll, of course.

But it also gets her a kiss before she makes her way out.

31. Things you said that you wouldn’t have if it were light out

It’s absolutely on Ecstasy, the fact that Raini’s sound asleep and she’s not. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be, it’s just that she’d gone out to piss after everything and Raini had fallen fast asleep in the two or three minutes she’d been gone.

Ecstasy unwraps the robe she’d donned to keep the crew from being alternatively intrigued or affronted by her naked body, thanks her lucky stars that she has hooves and doesn’t have to worry about putting on and taking off her boots for a trek like that, and, however illogically, doesn’t lay down yet. Instead, she sits on the edge of the bed, the slight movement making Raini stir but not bother waking up yet, and she cocks her head down at the wizard.

“Angel,” she tries, wondering.

Raini barely reacts. Hm.

Ecstasy’s already put out her lamp, so her wizard’s face is all shades of gray with her darkvision. Still, she can imagine every color that lights itself on Raini’s face usually - the pink of her cheeks, the gray-blue of her eyes, the slight glow of the arcane sometimes buzzing around her. It’s probably good that it’s dark, though, because Ecstasy doesn’t think she’d be doing this if it wasn’t.

Not sure what “this” is, exactly, but it culminates in her brushing Raini’s hair back, shushing the discontented mutter it gets her, and pulling the sheet up over her bare shoulder.

Hm.

Ecstasy rolls her eyes at herself and crosses back over to her side of the bed, pulling the sheets down and joining Raini, slotting her body against Raini’s back. Raini’s pulled herself into a ball, but she’s still expressed that she likes Ecstasy’s warmth (“So you really like how hot I am, huh?” “Would you shut up?”) so, spooning it is.

Ecstasy, even as she makes fun of herself for doing so, moves Raini’s hair out of the way and presses a kiss to the side of her head. “Sweet dreams, firefly,” she says, relishing in the lack of a response. That’s better, for her. “See you in the morning.”

And then she settles in to sleep, herself.

Legacy

13. Things you said that were important to you

It’s kind of more what she doesn’t say. The conversation is already moving on without them, but Legacy is caught, just a bit, in Frey’s gaze.

She has the sudden feeling that Frey Holt is the kind of good that makes just about everyone figure out just how bad they are.

It twists something in her stomach, and Legacy’s lips press together when Frey tells her, “Kindness is free, even to people it’s easy to be unkind to.”

GD and their new friends are talking about dinner, so Legacy doesn’t say, “Kindness is never free. Especially not to people who are unkind to you. It’s not even free to people who are.”

She doubts that Frey would agree with her, first and foremost, and more than that she doesn’t know what, exactly, her argument would be. Coming from Legacy, the argument would be rich - hypocritical, considering she’s spent part of her life lying to strangers for money. But it isn’t free. If Legacy were more inclined to be shitty towards Frey she’d probably give a jab about how Frey doesn’t even know how banks work, how should she know what’s free and what’s not?

Frey’s kindness isn’t free. She can’t really think it is. Frey’s kindness, at least the kindness that Legacy’s seen, is turning herself into the smallest dog possible because GD is scared of her, even when it’s obvious how much she likes being large and wolfish and wild. Frey’s kindness is hurricanes and lightning storms in the middle of a city, just to keep people safe, people she met only a few days prior. Less than a few, even. Frey’s kindness is sinking a spell into nothing more than a scrape. Maybe Frey means that her kindness doesn’t put someone in debt to her for it, but there’s still a sunk cost. It’s still not free.

And it’s not naivete, either, Legacy doesn’t think, because she’s seen other types of kindness, too, even just from the few people she’s interacted with so far in the city.

GD’s kindness is letting herself feel the fear when Frey transforms, just so Frey can be that dog or wolf. Sunk cost. Cardea’s kindness is sitting for an hour listening to flutes so she can make sure a criminal is at rest. Sunk cost. Wén Xuěliàng and Yáo Jìngwǎn approached a couple of people talking about murder just to put a ghost to rest, Arianell gave a protective contract to a bunch of basically-nobodies because they’d done a good job and agreed in good faith not to hurt anyone unnecessarily, Klymene granted a random wizard protection just because they’d asked. Sunk cost, sunk cost, sunk cost. None of it is free.

And that’s all to people they like. To people they have no reason to be unkind to. If Frey thinks she’s taking nothing from herself to apologize to a man who only doesn’t want her dead because his people fled in thirty seconds, she’s lying to herself, and she’s certainly lying to Legacy.

But she doesn’t say any of this. And the rest of them are already walking, talking, insisting on paying for dinner.

(More kindness. More sunk cost. Gratitude, sure, but kindness, and still - not free. Quite literally, in this case.)

Legacy wonders how much of that Frey can read off of her, as she starts walking, too, leaving Legacy a little lost.

She stomps a hoof on the ground, once, casts her eyes upward, and walks a bit faster to catch up.

22. Things you said after making a bad decision

(for my dnd party, just to be clear: bad decision is HEAVILY in quotation marks. i love party coherency and so does legacy. but also aren’t all bad party decisions (and there by definition have to be Many) precipitated by One decision, the one to BECOME a party? i rest my case.)

There’s a scream on the docks, which isn’t really a new thing because the crush of the Os Kvelya docks are always loud and there’s always someone screaming at someone else.

But this is a scream. Proper, horrified.

Much more interesting than a walk home, anyway. Legacy alters her course immediately.

She’s not the only one. None of them are city guards, or anything, but there’s three - creatures, considering one of them is a large white wolf - and a clearly distressed human woman, pale as anything and probably the reason for the screaming. The other three, wolf included, seem to have “inspecting the body” down, so Legacy focuses on the woman instead. Having a possible witness passing out on them won’t do anyone any favors.

She keeps an eye on the investigation, though. After a minute, she decides to involve herself. The woman-who-was-a-wolf gives her findings first: “He got stabbed! With a big knife. In his ribs.”

And Legacy replies, invested: “You hate to see it. Do any of you three know him? I'm assuming not.”

Considering the screaming woman is the only one who looks with any fear towards the corpse, and no one else seems to be taking time from their investigation to grieve quietly, sob loudly, or beat their chests in misdirected anger, Legacy has to assume.

It takes her on a bit of a whirlwind, too. Stabbing on a dock leads to necromancy leads to a boat to brunch then to a criminal court, and so on and so forth to a fight with a necromancer. It’s about there that Legacy realizes that she should regret this. Chalk up the whole thing as a bad decision and get back on the road after a few more days in the city.

Except.

She finds herself in a bathhouse with them later, her wounds healed, instead of bandaged like they would have been if she were alone, scrubbing grime off of her and enjoying easy conversation with the two women who aren’t deep in their own heads right now.

The bard, GD (whatever that may stand for), says, “It’s nice to be among friends, if you all would like to stick around.”

And Legacy finds herself not minding the idea. It’s only hours after they meet, with Legacy only half-trying to keep her eyes off a very pretty set of tits, and she says, “GD, I think I'd like to stick around. Those who solve a murder together stay together, etcetera.”

And that, despite what she intellectually knows, the fact that necromancers and Reveries and Asmodeus and going after them all are generally considered bad decisions - well, she’ll just see what happens. She’s got a good feeling about it nonetheless.

Zephyr

19. Things you said when nothing bigger concerned you

“Sir Gentry,” Zephyr coos, chuffing him under his chin. “Pretty boy.”

He chirps at them and blinks, and Zephyr grins. “Okay. Off the desk. I have to study and you’re not very conducive to that.”

They pick him up and set him down, turning back to the spellbook she’d used the Academy funds to buy. Before this it was a shitty three-copper notebook that she took great pains to conceal, but this is a proper spellbook, with thick pages and a pretty purple leather cover. It’s the most luxurious thing Zephyr’s ever owned, and smells a little bit like lavender.

“All I have to do is impress them,” Zephyr tells themself, though she’s not sure exactly who “they” are yet, and don’t yet know how to impress. Their innate magic is very different from the spells they’ve been able to grasp so far - where Zephyr can remember the sparkling feeling of accidentally casting dancing lights or faerie fire on herself, this is nothing of the sort.

This is memorization, more, going over and over incantation and effect and intent and theory in their mind until they have magic concentrated like a beating heart and mind together in their body, just waiting to be released.

It’s the way they’ve learned to make it work. Their professors describe something different, but Zephyr has felt the welling feeling of possibility on the tip of their tongue, and can’t imagine any other way of casting. They’re no longer casting with her joy, but they’re still casting with everything of herself she can throw into it. Today, they’re content.

They open their spellbook proper, the lines on their face hardening as they concentrate. They know how to do this, or something like this. Like they’d said, all she has to do is impress. They’ll start breathing magic.

That’s plenty impressive.

26. Things you said while lying about yourself

“Zephyranthes Mirimm,” she says, holding out her hand.

Lona Mirimm looks at her with vague distrust in her eyes. Zephyr tries not to make it seem like it matters to her.

“I’ve never heard of you,” Lona says.

Zephyr waves that off. It’s easy to rebut, that. She’s practiced it a thousand times, preparing for this. “I doubt you would have. I’m not one of the generational Mirimms like I expect you are - my parents aren’t even Rosohnans. I’m from Asarius, originally. It’s so nice to meet you!”

She gives Lona a wide smile that they hope isn’t going to be seen through, and Lona finally takes her hand, then. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

One Mirimm down, Zephyr thinks to themself. Hopefully no more to go.

They’re not sure how far their pedigree will actually stretch, though she’s sure that when she does better than good in the Academy, no one will think to check.

She looks over her shoulder as she leaves Lona, accidentally catching her gaze. Zephyr blinks, jerks her head back to the front, and focuses on the tap-click of her new heels as she hurries down the hall.

[teamhook]

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the awesome @ilovemesomekillianjones

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 13: The Proposition

Mr. Smee approaches the Booth estate grounds. He hates giving his Captain bad news. Captain Jones is known for having a horrible temper and sadly it is his peril to give him the bad news today. He takes a breath and as he is about to knock on the door he hears his Captain's voice from behind. He quickly turns only to see his Captain walking towards him with Lady Emma Nolan. They are smiling at each other. He notices Killian's smile fade when he notices him.

"Smee, I wasn't expecting you. Is there a problem?" Killian fidgets because he notices the sure sign of nervous energy in his first mate's behavior— Smee is nervously playing with his bright red hat.

"Get on with it, you know how I bore waiting," Killian says.

"Sir?" He pauses to glance at Emma.

"I have nothing to hide from the lovely lady," Killian says.

"Sir, there have been comments made about your relationship with Lady Milah, they are not specifying names, but it is rumored that you had a dalliance with one of the Nolan Countesses." Smee waits for Killian's reaction as he finishes telling them. He glances between the two and he can clearly tell Emma is not happy.

Emma stands there looking at Smee with a look of dread. "Everyone will soon hear about it, rumor or not. That is if they haven't already. Misthaven is a small town," Emma says.

"I suppose we were more reckless than I thought," Killian says. Killian slowly turns his gaze to Emma. He knows this is upsetting her.

"My family will be ruined; we barely survived Uncle James' scandals. My mom can't even leave her room because of her headaches and she is so heartbroken over my father not being at her side." Emma sighs and looks at Killian.

"Smee, is that all they are saying? Is anyone claiming seeing anything?" Killian asks as he raises his eyebrow. "Could it possibly blow over?"

"No way to tell for sure, sir. This is almost as big of news as the marriage between Lady Milah and Mr. Booth. There are some rumors that say the dalliance was with Lady Milah and that it continues even today. Lady Emma has an immaculate image and Lady Milah is seen as the trollop of the two," Mr. Smee answers sincerely as he plays with his red hat.

Killian snorts at the final comment made by his first mate. Bloody hell, they have no idea what that woman truly is.

"I have to think. Please, excuse me," Emma says to Killian. "Oh, I'm sorry. Mr. Smee? Is that correct?" Emma asks and while looking at Killian adds with a small smile, "You were not lying when you said that the only part of you that is a gentleman is your clothing. You never properly introduced me to Mr. Smee. Shame on you, Killian," Emma chides him.

Smee is waiting for Killian to react over her small lecture only to be surprised by Killian's brilliant smile.

"Ah, where are my manners? Please forgive my rudeness. Countess Emma Nolan," he slightly mock bows and winks at her, "Mr. William Smee, my first mate."

Emma smiles and says, "Nice to finally meet you, now that Mr. Jones is finally behaving like the gentleman I know he can be. Please, excuse me. Have a nice day."

Killian and Smee watch Emma disappear as she opens and closes the front door. He turns to his first mate and orders, "Smee, find out all you can and report back."

"Emma, is something wrong?" Cora asks.

Emma stops and schools her features. "I was on my way to see my mother," Emma smiles and makes her way to her mother's room. What can she do? If the truth about Milah's prior relationship with Killian comes to light, it will be a disaster to her family.

The rumor doesn't specify which one of the two had the affair. She knows Cora wants to get Killian to leave and maybe she can proposition Killian. He says he wants to be a better man and maybe this way he can help redeem her family's image, especially since he is partly responsible for the mess they are in.

She could tell Cora that she is volunteering to marry Killian to help ease her mind. In all honesty, she is puzzled by Cora's reasoning for wanting Killian to leave the estate. She doesn't want to assume Cora knows of the affair, especially when it could be something as simple as his reputation, or that she just sees him as beneath their class. She knows Cora feels superior to others. Emma needs to be careful. Her mother will be hard to convince and her father will not like the idea, so she will need to move quickly. She will ask Cora to help placate her mother. She knows she will gladly help her since she is a little too eager to get rid of Killian.

First, how will she ask Killian? Yes, he flirts, but what if she is not to his liking. Will he accept, and if he does will he want to have other women to satisfy his needs? She knows that some men have other 'women' on the side to satisfy when the wife fails to meet their needs. The thought bothers her more than it should, but she refuses to give it deeper thought.

Snow is looking out the large window in her room, lost so deep in thought that she fails to hear the gentle knock at her door.

Emma slowly opens the door and peeks inside to see if her mother is still in bed. She has been back a couple of days and has not been able to see her mother yet. She still hasn't told her of the letter Mr. Hopper delivered to her. The good news found in that letter will put a smile on her mother's face.

Snow is in desperate need of a smile. Then again, once Emma tells her she will withdraw from the convent, she knows that will also make her mother happy; at least until she tells her of her plans to marry.

The marriage is what makes Emma nervous. Snow will want to know if she loves Killian, but she needs to stop getting ahead of herself. She will cross that bridge when she comes to it.

First, she needs to talk to Killian and see if he would even agree. The thought of him declining her proposal scares her. Cora insists that he is fond of her. She hopes this will fix everything. If she is honest with herself, she will admit that he has won her over, they have somehow become friends.

Emma loves that Killian doesn't hold back just because she is a woman. He tells her what he thinks, and it doesn't bother him when she says what is on her mind. She was always told by her mother to mind her manners, and she had to learn to keep quiet on certain things because Cora had told her that her husband would not appreciate it. The funny thing is that she has never once thought that Cora would be the kind of woman that keeps her mouth shut, but she doesn't remember August's father and their relationship.

Her mother has always told her that not all men are like her father. Not all men appreciate or recognize that women have their own minds or opinions. Her father would hate for her to marry someone that didn't appreciate her and that includes her beliefs. The thought of her father always makes her smile.

"Mother, may I have a word," Emma says. Her mother slowly turns and returns her daughter's smile and waves her in.

"Mom, I have some good news for you, Father will be returning soon. He had hoped to arrive before my vows. And about my vows, I know you have never approved of that decision. I admit that the reason for my rash decision was due to the rupture of the betrothal. You once said that I could find someone else, and... I think I have. Please, don't get too excited yet. I have some things to sort, and when everything is more concrete I will give you more details." Emma prattles everything so quickly, her mother barely has a chance to react to each piece of news.

"Emma, why didn't you tell me before of your father's return before?"

"I'm sorry, I meant to tell you sooner. You've been locked in your room and feeling so unwell due to your migraines and I didn't want to bother you,"."

"That's okay," her mother smiles. "I'm happy to hear you have found someone. Do I know him?"

"Actually he is a childhood friend of August's, but I will tell you more about him later. I have some matters to attend to. Perhaps you will be able to join us soon, if you're feeling up to it.

"Perhaps," Snow says as she studies her daughter. She hopes perhaps Emma has found someone worthy of her.

Emma needs to talk to Killian. She has searched most of the house and the property, nervously looking for him. She doesn't think he left with Mr. Smee. The only possible place he could be is the one place she hasn't gone, his bedroom. She knows it is highly inappropriate, but she needs to have this conversation with him.

How is she going to ask? There is no precedent for this situation. She arrives at his door and simply stares, afraid to knock. Gathering her courage, she knocks and patiently waits for the door to open.

The door opens and Killian smiles as he leans forward and asks, "Emma, are you sure you want to be seen with me? It's kind of compromising with the rumors and all. We can assume that the assumptions will soon enter the Booth estate, that is if they haven't yet."

"Oh, you are so thoughtful. Now may I come in, or are you going to make me have this conversation with you from the door?"

"Come in, darling. Just don't say I didn't warn you." He allows her passage into his room.

"I think we should get married," Emma blurts out. She closes her eyes; maybe she inherited her father's tact after all. She really doesn't want to look at his reaction but she slowly opens her eyes needing to see his expression.

Killian Jones stands there dumbfounded. What the bloody hell was that? Did she just ask him to marry her? He couldn't help the beat of his heart speeding up. He needed to make sure he didn't hear wrong. "Emma love, did you just ask me to marry you?" Killian asks as he nervously scratches the back of his ear.

Emma stands in the middle of Killian Jones' room realizing she didn't even lead up to it. She just blurted it out. "I did ask. I know that you are still in love with Milah. I just need you to do this for me. Killian, I honestly believe that you are a good man. These rumors going around will destroy my family. My mother specifically will not survive it. She has no idea of Milah's actions. I know my cousin is not the same person I once saw her as. She is selfish and all she cares for is herself. She has betrayed all of us, her family and you. She married another man even though she promised to marry you. I feel like we have become friends. At least I hope we have. Please, help me fix this. You mentioned earlier that you both were reckless, and now it is time to help correct the situation. Killian, I don't care if you have no last name or that you have a less than stellar reputation. I see a good man and one that I wouldn't mind entwining my life with. So will you marry me?" Emma finally takes a breath and waits for his response.

After a long pause in which Killian's mind continues to reel, he finally finds his voice. "If we do this, I want honesty. Are you doing this to protect your family or August?" Killian asks. He will not admit to himself or anyone for that matter how much he hopes it is the former of the two. He has grown fond of Emma and finds himself jealous of her devotion to the ones she loves, more specifically August.

"My family, but you have to realize by extension, August as well. Before you tell me I'm a fool. He is a victim in this mess too," Emma answers honestly.

"This proposal has nothing to do with the offer that Mrs. Booth made me?" he asks.

"No," Emma looks confused about his question and she shakes her head.

"Oh, let me guess, she didn't tell you? She offered me money, to reinstate me with her deceased husband's last name, and a lovely wife to boot," Killian says, waiting for her reaction.

"She mentioned that she made you an offer but didn't specify what it entailed other than money. Why would she reinstate the Booth last name? Oh! You think I'm the wife she offered? No! I'm asking because of what your first mate told us earlier. Where is Mr. Smee by the way?" Emma asks.

"Mr. Smee and I parted ways not long after you left us. He was going to find out more information about the town's gossip. I just wanted to find a way to ease your mind," Killian answers while smiling at her. "The offer Cora made is of no consequence. However, your lovely proposal is quite intriguing

Emma is staring at his beautiful blue eyes, have they always been this shade? "I'm being honest, I want to do this. I know I'm not Milah, I know she is the one you truly want. I just hope you realize that Milah is not coming back to you. She enjoys the lifestyle August gives her. She may come to look for you when she has tired of his bed, but the truth is she will not hold any loyalty to you." Emma feels justified in speaking frankly after all that has transpired.

"Does that bother you, the thought that she may seek me out for pleasure?" Killian asks as he steps close to her and leaves little space between the two.

"Yes, it does, because no one should be used."

"Hmm, is it over him or me?" Killian is not sure if he truly wants to know, but he asks anyhow.

"You want honesty? Both of you. I care for him because he is a good man. I also care for you. Deep inside I know you too are a good man. You two have so much in common and yet you keep seeing him as the enemy. He is blind to Milah's treachery, and you know her well enough to know that she has no loyalty to anyone other than herself. If you accept my proposal we could have a good marriage based on true friendship and honesty. You told me not that long ago that you wanted someone to accept the real you. I accept you, even with your flaws and I will not be ashamed because you only hold your mother's surname. I would be honored to be your wife. I have gotten to know you better and even with your hard edges I know I'm making the right choice." Emma lays everything on the line for Killian. Blatant honesty, and she hopes it is enough.

"What do you expect from our union?" he asks as he points between the two.

"I know what my duties would consist of, I was betrothed before. I would just expect for you to be good to me," she says with a smile that is not at all real. Would he expect a dowry? Her family is doing better financially, but it is not like she is doing this with their knowledge. She could ask Cora, she knows she wants Killian gone and he did mention she offered money. He is a pirate. The thought of him expecting a dowry scares her, why does she feel all this fear? She listens to his words as patiently as she can.

"I can offer you a comfortable life, not in the league of Booth's, but I will endeavor to make you happy. You have to promise me that you will tell me what is on your mind. You will not keep quiet like it is normally expected." Killian says while looking at her with an expression she has never seen on his face before.

She can feel her heart speed up. How is it possible for him to make her feel this way?

"There is no dowry," Emma says and lightly bites on her bottom lip nervously.

"There is no need for one; you are all the treasure I need. When do you want to have the nuptials?" Killian asks.

Emma blushes at his compliment, and her heart hopes he means it, even if her brain tells her to he is a shameless flirt. "I would need at least a week to prepare. I need to inform Mother Superior of my change of mind. I seem to be cutting it short. My probation is almost over. I also have to give my mother the news. We will need to move fast."

"As you wish," Killian says with a bow.

It is settled, they will marry as soon as possible. She knows she cares for Killian, but is it too soon? Her feelings confuse her. The truth of the matter is, she is afraid of how she feels for Killian. She knows his heart belongs to Milah, and to fall in love with him knowing he will never be truly hers would break her.

He feels a pull to Emma that clouds his mind. The reason for his arrival to the Booth estate was Milah. Yet when he is with Emma, Milah does not even cross his mind. He still loves her, or at least he thinks he does, because the alternative scares him. He could not survive falling in love with Emma Nolan for her not to feel the same. He will tell Milah that his decision was only strategic. If she is unhappy with his decision to marry another, well, he knows the feeling.

Tagging:

@hookedonapirate @kmomof4 @searchingwardrobes @seriouslyhooked​ @profdanglaisstuff​ @let-it-raines @revanmeetra87​ @snowbellewells​ @hollyethecurious​ @kymbersmith-90 @branlovestowrite @thejollyroger-writer​ @shireness-says @ilovemesomekillianjones  @thisonesatellite​ @thesschesthair​ @winterbythesea @stahlop​ @resident-of-storybrooke​  @superchocovian​  @lfh1226-linda​ @artistic-writer​ @thislassishooked​ @shardminds​ @winterbaby89​ @xhookswenchx​ @ultraluckycatnd​ @gingerchangeling​ @laschatzi​ @wellhellotragic​ @xemmaloveskillianx​ @courtorderedcake​ @pirateherokillian​ @optomisticgirl​ @darkcolinodonorgasm​ @sherlockianwhovian​ @andiirivera​ @djlbg​ @nikkiemms​ @jennjenn615​ @scientificapricot​ @officerrogers​ @imlaxdris71​ @therealstartraveller776​

[prxttypxrker]

our endgame [T.S]

fandom: Marvel

pairing: Tony Stark x OC (father-daughter)

word count: 1,203

summary: an introduction to a series occurring between the after effects of infinity war and the events of endgame, later on including the actual events of the latter film. a high schooler with unique abilities approaches Tony Stark after “the Snap” and wants to offer her help, as well as ask for his help in return

—

post infinity war

one

“What did you say his name was?”

“Thanos.”

She nodded her head, walking around the hologram that was displayed in the middle of the high tech lab. She surveyed the files and went over everything that happened within the last week. Of course she saw what happened—saw all those people disappear into thin air—but she couldn’t comprehend just what was going on until she decided to visit the famous philanthropist. The information absorbed so far was a combination of somber and curious news. Friends and nearly lifelong heroes were gone, and even repeating a brief version of the events that unfolded seemed hard for the man to reveal to her. The conversation itself ran short at the start of her unexpected company, though ever since the end of it the adult of the two would keep on giving the young girl weird looks as she scanned her surroundings. At the familiar feeling her head turned toward her left, and she raised an eyebrow. “I know you might be suspicious of me, Mr. Stark, but I’m sure staring is a bit much.”

The genius billionaire stayed silent. The girl who showed up on his doorstep just a couple of hours ago couldn't have been any older than his own former intern. She seemed younger due to her physical appearance, but the way she held herself was anything but youthful. There was nothing adolescent or amateur about how she presented herself before him, and the amount of information she was able to gain on the situation prior to coming to him proved that she wanted to know all she could. He wasn't sure if letting her help like she wanted was the best idea, especially without any knowledge on what she could bring to the team. The team that broke up and—for the most part—lost contact with one another only for them to band back together for a threat to the entire universe, not just Earth. Not like before.

She was a teenager—a kid. Was it really wise of him to take her on after what happened to the last person he took under his wing? He finally spoke after more thought than he wanted, and crossed his arms as he looked upon the young girl. “How are you here?

Leaning back against the table where everything was displayed, she glanced back over at him and crossed her own arms with a shrug. “Just like anyone else who survived the snap I don't know how or why I'm here, but Peter was my friend—one of my only ones. I want to do what I can to get him and the others back.”

“And you're aware of the fact they all just-” He stopped himself from continuing, waving a hand around to get his point across.

“Turned into dust without a trace as to where they could be since they are alive?” She finished, not batting an eyelash as she tried to keep her voice from breaking and any remaining hope from leaving. She cleared her throat, “Yeah, I'm aware.”

Anthony Stark stared at the high schooler intensely, her gaze still and leveling his own. She didn't move or glance away, just holding her own against any possible judgement she might receive. She knew the dangers, or else she wouldn't have allowed her path to carry on this way. There was something about this one that caught his attention, and the mystery intrigued him enough. She couldn't have been more than sixteen, yet here she was willing to do whatever she could to possibly defeat a threat that wiped out half of the universe's living creatures. She was determined, but the Avengers already tried. He was still recovering himself from the three weeks trapped in space in a broken ship, barely being able to work on any projects let alone wanting to attempt at this again. “Look, kid.” He sighed. “We already tried beating that guy, and look what happened. They found him and the stones were gone. Destroyed. I was stuck in space for twenty-two days and I've had to have this stupid thing-” he gestured to the IV stand next to a desk, “pricked into my arm for over a week now. I love the enthusiasm, really, but it's just not going to happen. Sorry to disappoint you, but you should just go home.” Tony began to make way back to the elevator, grabbing the fluids that have been assisting his health since being rescued.

“Mr. Stark.” The girl called out, but he didn't turn around. “Mr. Stark, please!” As he turned inside the elevator shaft, he looked at her. He saw someone who was hurt and grieving, someone who lost a friend and no doubt other people important to her. He was lucky Pepper was still here, but most others weren't so lucky. Despite still having his fiance, he saw himself in the young girl now a fair distance away from him.

“I know you lost people, and you want them back, but I'm sorry.. I can't give that to you.” Without another word, Friday shut the silver doors.

She watched as her one chance faded away, going down to what she assumed was the lab he still had standing. She could have insisted she at least stay with him in the mansion. Make a deal or convince him she would be of help. The truth was that while she knew she was able to do something, she didn't know how much. She gathered as much intel as possible before heading his way, and while she retained what he gave, it wasn't enough. There was no way she was going to have the strength or energy to do this herself. He gave his condolences, and she was still disappointed, but he made a point. The Avengers—Earth’s mightiest heroes and defenders—and others with supernatural skills or powers located and killed the tyrant, and yet were too late in retrieving the stones. There was no way she could do a solo mission.

A ring blared into the new silence, snapping her out of her train of thought. She glanced down the pocket of her jacket, taking out the cellphone. She blinked at the name on the screen, not hesitating in picking up the call from her non-blood sister. “Tala?”

“Hey. So you're still alive and kicking too, huh?” The other girl on the end asked, almost verbally scolding herself for doing so when the obvious was there. “Nevermind that—can I come over to your place? Or wherever you are? I want to talk about... all this.” There was some rustling on Tala's end, and then she spoke again. “I want to understand what happened, and I was hoping you'd know more than I do.”

“Well, you called at the right time. I'm about to leave the Stark Mansion. It shouldn't be too long before I'm home, so I'll let you know when I'm close.”

“Alright, sis. See you soon.”

“Yeah, see you.” Her friend hung up and the phone was set back in its place. She sighed and made her way to the front door of the large home, only stopping at the doorway to look back at the in-home transportation the man left through.

[sassysweetstories]

Empress Part 9

Summary: You’re apart of the 100. You’re very bad-ass and don’t take shit from no-one. However, the longer you’re on earth, the more complicated things become.

Ship: Bellamy Blake x Fem!Reader, Dimitri!Grounder x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, crying, angst, swearing, minor smut, fighting,mentions of abuse, blood, gore, etc.

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to owners. i realize not all of this is side by side accurate to the show, bare with me. i hope you enjoy!

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw@anamcg317@bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist @beingmadinwonderland @princessisabelle19@violence-and-velvet @lachicadelamanzana @teenwolfbitches2

First P.O.V

I groan in pain, dropping my food supplies as Bellamy growls into my ear. “Traitor.” He hisses like a snake. His grip tightening around my neck and shoulders to keep me contain. “You’ve been seeing a grounder?! Have you been feeding him information, too?!” His grip is too much, too painful it’s getting harder to breathe. I twist his arm and push him as far away from me as I can, pulling out a knife to defend myself. “Bellamy let me explain-” He cuts me off by screaming. “I knew you were a snake! The little princess isn’t so clean, after-all!” My voice is twice the rage he was expecting and it takes both of us by surprise. “MAN, YOU JUST LOVE THE SOUND OF YOUR OWN VOICE, DON’T YOU?! JUST SHUT UP AND LISTEN!” Maybe because my hands tremble that he finally silences. Not out of pity but out of something more painful. 

I sigh, “Dimitri. That’s his name. He saved my life one of the earlier nights when we first arrived. I thought he was going to kill me, I was sure of it. But when he didn’t, I realized he was just as curious about me as I was about him. He’s not from Lincoln’s clan. There are more clans all over the world. I have saved his people before and they have protected me. I haven’t told anyone about our plans or our people, I swear to you! Dimitri and I would meet and he taught me things about earth, including the language. I told him stories about the books we read when we were kids and the stars. That’s it.” He never puts his weapon down but his eyes are sad and angry, much like when Octavia confessed about seeing Lincoln. He hates the idea but can’t stop her, even when he tried. “Why were you kissing him?” He gulps down some saliva, not really wanting the answer I provide. “I have feelings for him. Please, Bellamy. I know you hate me-” 

He scoffs, disgusted by the statement. “I don’t hate you.” I dare to lower my weapon, perplexed. An uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach as I await for more of an explanation. “I don’t like that you’re right a lot. You actually weren’t half bad.” He pauses for a moment, almost eyeing me with distaste. I know the following statement he makes will break me more than I care to admit, a tinge of regret. “I thought you were more than this. I thought you were better than us, than me. Turns out that’s a lie. Your secret is safe, for now.” A small warning: a threat. Make one wrong move and I will take everything you love away. His posture seems to scream. I had the potential of being friends with Bellamy but I don’t know how he’ll view me now. Maybe as a monster for all I know. I walk a few steps ahead, half expecting him to literally stab me in the back. We melt into the flow of the groups movements. He forces a smile in Octavia’s direction and nods to Clarke. 

I flank Octavia’s side and half expect Bellamy to glare at me in disgust but he looks more disappointed than anything. There’s a pang of guilt in my heart, a feeling I can’t control despite how much I want to. I have no reason to feel the way that I do but still my emotions alter everything and get the best of me. Especially with how much I don’t owe the Ark or my “people” anything. And though my secret is out to him, it is only he who knows about Dimitri. I’m glad nobody else does. Whether he comes out about my secret is a worry for another day. Right now I need to make sure I get my people out and away from this camp. Octavia and I fall into line a few feet away from Bellamy, Clarke and Jasper. “Alright Octavia, is there anything else we need to look forward to if we slip from the grounders?” 

She shook her head, probably glad for the conversation. “Lincoln told me just to get us far away from the first wave of grounder troops. Once we’re away we should be fine.” We walk for another ten minutes until I feel a chill trace up my spine. Both Octavia and Jasper take notice and stop, causing everyone’s movements to cease. “You felt that, too? Didn’t you?” Octavia asks, unsheathing her weapon. She’s becoming better at reading a situation than most. I turn to answer her question when an arrow lodges itself into one of the kids a few bodies away. He dies on impact, falling to the ground instantaneously. We have no time to mourn for another child gone as Jasper banshee shrieks to our people. “GROUNDERS!!! RETREAT!!” 

The arrows and chaos around us make our movements quick. So fast, I don’t even realize we’re already back inside camp grounds. When Raven is in the drop-ship secured, and far from harm, Bellamy and Clarke take the ladder, guns at the ready while the troopers take their mark. “Why aren’t they attacking?” Bellamy asked, frustrated. But Clarke and I already know. “We’re doing exactly what they wanted us to do..” She turned over her shoulder to Octavia, blonde hair whipping as she does so. “The first troop are scouts, right?” The young girl nodded to my right. “We can take them! It’s what Lincoln would do!” Bellamy huffed, clearly more angry than before. “I’m done doing what that stupid grounder would do! We listened to him and it got Drew killed!” So that was the boy that died. The thought makes my stomach churn. 

Finn scoffed, “That grounder saved our lives! I agree with Octavia! For all we know there’s one scout out there!” I nod along, “Me too. If we move fast we’ll slip out but we’re just sitting ducks if we stay.” Bellamy takes my voice in stride, fully prepared to fight even in times like these. “If we don’t fight, we die! You’re a coward!” And though I’m a few inches shorter than him, I don’t back down from the challenge. “Or am I smarter than you, Blake?! We stay, we rot! It’s obvious. If we move, we live another day!” Octavia pushes us apart, more focused on Clarke than our bickering. “Clarke, we can still do this..” I sigh as people look from her and I. Bellamy may have people listening but he doesn’t have their heart and soul. He lifts his chin up, glancing back at Clarke. “Looking to you, princess. Whats it gonna be?” 

When she sighs, I know I’ve lost this battle. “Scouts, more than one. Finn, they’re already here-” Clarke looks back at Bellamy, almost defeated. “Looks like you got your fight-” I cuss under my breath before stalking off to my tent to grab all of my weapons available. Octavia finds me shortly and we make our way towards one of our foxholes. Bellamy grabs her by the arm, muttering something so softly I couldn’t hear it if I tried. I linger, watching the young boy and admiring the camp for what could be my last time. We did pretty well. When she returns to me, I can’t help but smile a little. She looks so strong standing by herself. When I look back at Bellamy, I notice he’s already looking directly at me. His gaze is different from before. Almost like they’re full of longing. 

When he’s not being a total ass, he’s quite handsome. Instead of following Octavia, I draw closer to him. “I think this is a stupid plan and I’m sure you’re acting out cause of fear but you’re not half bad, Blake.” I say, stretching out my hand for him to take. Hesitantly, he grasps my palm. His warmth sends chills down my spine. Bellamy doesn’t pull away. “We’re both gonna live.” I snicker at the crude comment, pulling away before asking, “What makes you think so?” He laughs for the first time despite the situation. “Cause we’re both arrogant and headstrong.” I smile wide at the honest joke before following his sister. My grin falters the further I walk, mumbling. “I sure hope you’re right, Bellamy..” 

Octavia leaves shortly and with one quick glance, I know she’ll be okay. Though I am not armed with a gun, I still feel safe in the dark of the foxholes. They hoot at the movements but I don’t see anything fall. Bellamy comes tumbling into the makeshift hole. “Don’t shoot! We’re wasting bullets! Where’s Octavia?!” He turns to me. With one glance, I reassure him but tread lightly nonetheless. He holds valuable information that could be my downfall. “She’s okay, Bellamy.” Our radio com starts to explode suddenly. “THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!” For the first time in a long time, my hands begun to tremble and heart beat quicken with fear. I can’t think of the worst outcome. I won’t gain anything from making myself anxious. I make my way over to the other side of the camp, running past some of the kids who duck in fear. 

Bellamy follows close by, almost on my tail when a large mass smacks the Blake boy down to the ground. Quickly, I turn around and stand between him and the grounder that’s slipped through. Before he could attack, a large sword ran straight through his chest. Octavia stands over the body with a coy smile. “You see that, big brother?” He laughs lightly before both our expressions fall. An arrow slashes her shoulder and Octavia falls into my arms. I don’t know when Lincoln arrives but I’m nothing short from relieved when I see him.  I can take care of her but we have to go now.” He says softly, urgency in his tone. I watch Bellamy struggle to let his baby sister go. I put my hand on his cheek and nod. “Go. Take care of her.” I can see the broken expression on his face as he watches his sister leave with a stranger. 

Once they’re out of sight, we walk off towards the fence. “HOLD THE LINE!!” Clarke screams to the gunmen trembling at their posts. I glance through the peephole and gasp. They’ve broke the first of our defense. A few bodies lay on the dirt, unidentifiable. Clarke comes out from the drop-ship again, dripping with sweat and stress. “Those who don’t have guns, make your way into the drop-ship! Jasper’s done it!” They move quickly with panicked faces. This is the end of the camp, I can feel it. I take a deep breath and prepare for the wall to break. The walls; our protection system crumbles and the grounders swarm in, one after another. They never seem to stop. There are at least twenty grounders blocking us from the safety inside the drop-ship. 

I do my best to protect Bellamy and myself from the men that run towards us. One hits him hard and I’m forced to protect both sides of the conflict. As he falls, Finn comes out from behind, shooting and knocking more men out of the way. I pull Bellamy up to Finn’s side. They stumble and fight while Clarke gets as much of our people into the drop-ship as she can before closing it. All of a sudden, I’m thrown down to the ground, slipping and falling down the hill. Sticks, rocks and dirt collide with my skin, roughly tearing me into two before I come to a rough stop. My forehead feels wet while my temple aches and throbs against my cranium. With wobbly feet, I stand, putting the majority of my weight onto the nearest tree. All I can feel is throbbing pain. I’m so tired. Despite my body screaming for release, I pull out the last weapon I have and attempt to stand, shifting from foot to foot. The black mass grows into two and then three as my vision beings to blur. Suddenly, everything goes dark. 

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