#flat as a board ivy though...........

[plasticsandwich]

was sketching some hairstyles and liked how this one came out

[viacursecasting]

A Twinkle In Their Eyes.

An Arte X Ivy Drabble

The sun had just begun to dip behind the towering spires of Twinkle Park, casting a soft twilight glow over the glowing rides and neon signs. The air buzzed with excitement as the hum of futuristic music echoed across the park, where shimmering rockets and swirling galaxies spun overhead.

It was all too surreal for Ivy—being able to step through the front gates of the normally crowded amusement park. But since Arte had rented it for the evening, they had the whole place to themselves.

Although this was the arachnid's first visit, she somehow felt at home. 

"Kingsley... I don't know what to say."

Arte gave her a soft smile, knowing she'd always wanted to visit but never could with her Infection. "You don't have to say anything," he reassured her, offering his hand. 

She took it, letting him excitedly lead the way.

He guided her to one of the park's main attractions—Twinkle Coaster. The massive roller coaster looped and soared against the skyline of the park, leaving streaks of light in the sky. Starting with it was a surefire way to get them in the Twinkle spirit. 

As they boarded the rocket-shaped cars, Arte grinned at Ivy, a gleam of playful confidence in his eyes. "You're free to hold my hand if you get scared," he affectionately teased as the safety bars clamped down over their laps.

"We’ll see," she stated, not about to be won over by his charm, but she was glad her mask hid the tiny smile that tugged at the corner of her lips. As the countdown to launch announced overhead, she added, "Just try not to scream in my ear the whole time."

Arte, unfazed, grinned wider. "Your wit is why I love—"

The coaster took off with a sudden lurch, and the adrenaline hit both of them like a punch. Arte let out an excited whoop, his arms thrown up in the air, while Ivy gripped the safety bar with white knuckles. The ride soared and dipped, twisting in impossible loops, the lights of the park flashing around them like stars in a galaxy far, far away.

Ivy couldn’t help herself—she let out a small scream as they plummeted down a particularly steep drop, quickly covering her mouth at how ridiculous she must have sounded.

As they screeched to a stop at the end of the ride, Arte looked over at the spider, noticing she was covering her face with her hands. His face washed over with concern. "Ivy? You okay?"

He felt a wave of relief as he saw her shoulders shake with mirth as she couldn't help but let a laugh escape her lips.

Ivy looked up at him with bright ambers, her heart still racing from the rush. "Can we go again?"

~

They spent the next few hours bouncing from one attraction to the next—Arte confidently taking the lead, Ivy following with quiet excitement. 

They partook in all the park had to offer, from interstellar carnival games to out-of-this-world snacks. The merry-go-round was a nice change of pace from the thrill rides. And the go-karts encouraged a bit of friendly competition.

At one point, the cryokinetic tripped over the edge of his go-kart, almost falling flat on his face. He somehow managed to catch himself, but he accidentally froze his go-kart in the process. "I, ah, meant to do that," he said with a nervous laugh.

Amused, Ivy couldn’t help but shake her head. "You’re a disaster," she teased, though there was warmth in her voice.

Arte winked. "A disaster you love~"

Ivy blushed like a tomato behind her mask.

They ended their night at the park’s Observation Tower, an enormous spinning spire that offered a breathtaking view of the entire galaxy-themed park below. The twinkling lights of distant rides blinked like stars, and the sound of electronic music filled the air.

As the gondola slowly ascended, Ivy found herself caressing the glass window, staring out at the city of lights below. "Wow," she breathed, her voice softer now, as she admired the view. 

Arte stood beside her, his cyan eyes reflecting the sparkling lights. "Was it everything you thought it would be?" he asked, his tone quieter now, a little more sincere.

Just as Ivy turned to respond, the gondola tilted slightly, throwing Arte off balance. He stumbled into her, and they both crashed into the window with a gasp.

With noses inches apart, Arte chuckled. "Maybe I am a disaster," he admitted humbly.

As he drew away, Ivy pulled him back in by his cravat. The stubbornness in her eyes was gone, replaced by the warmth that the cat seemed to always draw out of her. "A disaster I love."

As the gondola reached the top, they shared a magnetic kiss, setting off sparks that the stars would envy.

[saint-starflicker]

About Jason McConnell being a bad boyfriend and a bad person, that probably is something that people will still be saying...even though we're all so much more progressive and enlightened than audiences 20 years ago... right?

Right, fandom? Right?

[ screenshot of excerpt from this interview

JENNA LEIGH GREEN: The focal point of Bare is the relationship between Peter and Jason, but a lot of the fans have taken a very personal stance to the characters. On the message boards, I read things like, “I don’t understand Ivy; she’s just there to break the two boys up!” Some of the fans who’ve come to the show numerous times have never spoken to me. Not a word!

JOHN HILL: On the other hand, there are people who see Ivy as the focal character and think that Jason is the villain.

MICHAEL ARDEN: I think the writers have done a wonderful job in making sure that all of the characters have good intentions. That’s why it’s easy to identify with them. Even the priest is doing what he believes to be best. It’s hard to cast blame on any of these people. ]

I didn't understand Jason as a character (and that showed up when I was inspired to try to write fanfiction after watching the show, but then when I got to trying to write Jason part of my brain went "nope" because I didn't know what to do with him, I don't understand what goes on in there) but I definitely understood why he's like that for the story, because sometimes characters are vehicles to get a story told. Obviously: when the community around young queer people is accepting and emotionally supportive, then they're less likely to be miserable and so less likely to suicide. When the community isn't accepting and emotionally supportive, lacks proper guidance and is homophobic instead, then that can lead to a tragedy. If the take-away message after the show instead is, yeah we should have more homophobic religions and schools, so that then it weeds out the jerkfaces like Jason Jerkface McConnell...then I think we have a problem, and it's not the story that the show was telling. Sure people can project their unresolved personal issues with their ex or the patriarchy or whatever onto him, but if we drop the anchor there at hating on him, or blaming the creators for not writing somebody more sympathetic to our standards before framing his death as some tragedy (as though it can't work as a tragedy unless he's beyond Simon Spier or Charlie Spring levels of saintly)...I think that's missing out on a meaningful part of the story.

I keep saying that each person should have their feelings about a thing and a space to voice it, especially when it's about interpretations of a fiction, because it's (usually) more interesting why a person has the interpretation that they do, instead of prejudging their character based on their interpretation...but also some interpretations are flat-out wrong and I'm actually not interested in why when it's this egregiously wrong that Jason McConnell is nothing more than a jerkface whose face is a jerk.

I didn't "get" Jason as a character at first, but when I tried to understand then it turned out everything he did made sense for the way he was in the situation that he was in. People can do that with fictional characters too sometimes. We can try.

[evilmageclub]

hello

i have posted another chapter of my loong postcanon samsam fic. this is the 6th chapter out of 7 we're almost there i cannot Wait to physically bind this book when im done.......

anyway. if you like reading about gods who dont know how to talk about their feelings except via elaborate sexual murdersuicide you may enjoy this. medium sized sfw excerpt under the cut:

They meet in the first-floor room where Samothes takes his audiences, Samot dressed quickly in linen trousers and a thin, trellised blouse. The game board on the table in the centre of the chamber is still set from last night, when Samothes summarily thrashed his husband and two of their friends at chess, only because Samot was very drunk and hence distracted.

“Is something wrong down at the temple?” he asks his visitor now, pulling out one of the four vacant chairs for her to take. The woman who called up to him from the gardens does not sit, but lingers near the door as though eager to get her answer and be gone.

“No, it’s going fine. Isn’t there any way you can sense him, or something?”

“Or something,” Samot echoes in faint amusement. “Give me a moment.”

He crosses to one of the pink-white sandstone arches overlooking the bay, taking hold of a strand of ivy that has curled around the nearest pillar. Technically, he doesn’t need to be touching another Spring organism to extend his senses across the island, but he has lived long enough to understand the importance of appearances in spellcraft. Sunlight bathes his face as he closes his eyes to seek through root and tendril and leaf the telltale warmth of Samothes—and finds nothing.

He searches again, refusing to take that as an answer. Again, it is the answer returned to him. 

Samot turns to face his visitor, struck less by anxiety than a sheer and surprising rage—at Samothes’ apprentice, at Samothes himself for fostering a populace so dependent on him that they cannot cope with his absence for a single morning—then, locating the source of that frustration much further inside himself than he thought it had been, stifles it quickly.

“How urgently do you need him?”

“Well… I suppose it doesn’t have to be now. I wanted to give him something.” The apprentice rummages in the pocket of her overalls as he approaches, producing a small flat box.

"A gift?"

"From a few of us at the workshop. Since it’s a day in his honour and we’ve never had a birthday on record for him, so this seemed like the nearest thing." She smiles, a little awkwardly, as though alerted to Samot’s disquiet. “It can wait until later. Really.”

Easy to tell from the set of her mouth that she was excited to see Samothes’ reaction to whatever she has for him, and is disappointed by his absence in a way Samot cannot make up for. For a moment he sees in her the ghost of Maelgwyn, waiting in the hallway for Samothes’ return from a long day's work with some trinket made specifically to earn his praise. 

"I’ll find him,” Samot says, his voice a little softer now. “I imagine he’s out on the water.”

The young woman nods as he makes for the door, pocketing her gift box.

“Alright,” she calls after him. “Thanks.”

Samot is already away onto the stairs leading down to the gardens, but he hopes Samothes’ apprentice will return to the Shrine before mid-morning. Between her and Finlay and Smoulder, perhaps the isle’s first High Sun Day will run smoothly enough even without Samothes there to preside over his own celebrations. Of course, he promised he’d be back—but Samot has his doubts, old fears that no logic can root out, and so he hurries. Pauses not among the waking crowds and the smell of shellfish frying, but takes the shortest path seaward under iridescent rooftops, between walls of white-grey flint. The onshore wind is bracing after the sheltered town streets, ropes and fixtures slapping against masts in a bell-like chorus, and sure enough Samot finds the man he first knew as the old fisher’s son busy unmooring a dinghy not far from where his sloop sits at anchor.

"Not at the temple this morning?” he asks.

“Got lobster pots to check,” the captain calls back as he lifts the mooring rope, "and anyway I'm not much for the faith. Not his, at least.”

“You don’t have to be. There’ll be dancing later on, and the Shrine all festooned in sunflowers. It’d be a shame to miss it for work.”

“Now, I know you didn’t come down here to canvass for Samothes.” The captain straightens up, evaluating Samot’s slipshod appearance with dark eyes framed by locks of windswept grey. “What can I do for you?”

Samot makes himself smile. Ordinarily, he would let no duty keep him from giving this man’s beauty the time and attention it deserved, but this morning older loyalties have him captive.

“It has to do with Samothes, actually,” he admits. “May I come aboard?”

[discet]

How did you feel about the ending of Amphibia? Personally I’m still upset they got separated from their amphibian families, but that’s just me

I have complicated feelings. When I first watched it I was very satisfied with it. I thought it was a pretty brave and powerful ending. However under scrutiny I think its a bit of a mixed bag.

Salt and Sweets below

The Good

-To start, animation was really cool. Like I'll get to themes and junk in a second, the moon fight was cool. Anne's fight against Andrias was wild. Sasha's fight with Darcy was just awesome.

-I think the emotional scenes starting with Anne deciding to use the god spell to when they all are saying goodbye hit hard.

-I think sundering Amphibia from Earth really works for the themes they are going for. It forced Sasha and Anne to confront the same fear Marcy started the story with - having to leave their loved ones behind. I definitely think its sad but I did like it

-They actually pulled off Andrias's redemption arc for me. Which is wild cause I really thought there was no way they could get me to sympathize with the child Impaler after watching through true colors. Though this is kind of a mix cause I think without him the show lost its last good antagonist.

-Liked the scene with Anne and Sasha welcoming their girlfriend Marcy back from being possessed. All of them hugging and forgiving each other.

-I think the 8 month time skip or whatever for Amphibia was nice closure for a lot of our amphibian friends. We see Maddie achieve her dream of using the Dark Arts to help people. See Polly grown into a full frog. Ivy and Sprig going off on whole new adventures. Olivia and Yunan happy together. Grime living his best life, ending in a much better place than he started. And of course otp BesJoe got confirmed. It was a nice little send off to this world we came to love.

-I like Anne's little speech at the end along with the three girls reconnecting.

The Bad

-I feel in general Darcy was severely underutilized as a part of the narrative, which did detract from their impact. They loomed in the background for most of the season, had one conversation with our protagonist and is defeated before they can have another.

-On a related note: The core really failed for me as a villain. They're motivation is incredibly flat and 2-dimensional. For being a hivemind of supposedly the smartest newts of an ancient empire, it sure didn't seem to have a plan. I still don't understand why they wanted Marcy as a host beyond like... food? I guess? Eating? Also pathetic that they couldn't come up with a fantasy scenario that Marcy would believe for more than 20 minutes. Like jesus, they have access to her memories and those were the best facsimile's of Anne and Sasha they could muster? Then they're defeated and their only backup plan is 'become moon destroy planet' like really!? You had 1000 years to plan your return, you lose your host and immediately flip the board?! God there has been so much good fanworks exploring what Darcy could mean narratively and while I didn't expect Disney to do most of them between between being too dark/too gay, this was a let down.

-On a less tirade note: The fact that Marcy only got to relearn from her mistake in True Colors as her only development was kinda lame. It was a beautiful scene when she stands up to the core and realizes she can't make Anne and Sash like the same things, but I also feel like she was pretty much there considering her actions leading up to being impaled.

-The guardian was... fine I guess? Kind of left field? Dues Ex Machina rarely works well and I don't think they managed it here. Like don't get me wrong, glad Anne's not dead. But the guardian had some wack motivations that aren't really challenged by the narrative.

-On a related note of that other way, I was kind miffed that Anne insisted on taking the sacrifice on alone? Was there a reason they couldn't do it together. Sasha and Marcy getting to do some cool anime junk only for it not to really matter was kind of... hmmm... don't care for it.

-While I like the moment all three girls reconnect, and I actually do appreciate the futures and jobs and all that, the idea that they drifted apart in the first place didn't ring true. It felt like an ending that was written far ahead of time and didn't adjust for the arcs the characters went through.

-I could see maybe Marcy drifting apart, distance is a hell of a thing and keeping in touch is hard however the dialogue implying they just immediatly stopped touching base felt wrong.

-But Sasha and Anne? After what they went through together in 3b? With no distance between them? That sounded like some first draft nonsense. I've seen some posit that it was cause they had nothing but Amphibia in common afterword's, but that never felt right. Anne and Sasha's problem wasn't that they didn't have common interests, it was that Sasha was a control freak. I could see them building a bigger friend group, but I can't see them just casually drifting apart.

[jem-fern]

Miniature Project: Happy Camper Caravan (Rolife)

Okay, here's the first project where I got really silly with it! I made a LOT of changes to the og Rolife kit; I made all the outside furniture from scratch, added an awning and a shelf and a fence, and even completely revamped the interior as well.

These official pictures show a little of the original kit's features:

The exterior was cute but the weird little signs and paper-based grass and BBQ weren't terribly inspiring, while the inside was just a few random kitchen elements with a printed floor and printed carpet. The bed was just a fabric platform (with a plate of fruit on it??) and the colors were mainly brown and yellow in contrast to the cute pastel exterior.

So of course I completely remodeled the caravan:

I used math paper to paint floor tiles and also hand-painted all of the wallpaper. The kitchen bench is painted with sparkly nail-polish for that Formica look, and I made utensils, a fruit bowl (from a cool button), a shelf of containers and cups, and of course a tiny camping fridge! The little stove is also a remodel, but I kept the tiny chopping board and fruit.

The 'bedroom' features a shelf of toiletries, comfy blankets and pillows, books, plants and a little postcard taken from notepaper.

I also added a little ivy-leaf mobile to balance out the composition:

(From the second picture there you can see the repaint of the og kit chair and a little pastel-themed handbag under the bench.)

The final touch was a little pile of camp activities on the bed:

By far the most work on the exterior was finding a suitable finish for the paintwork. I eventually settled on pink printer paper, painted over with a brighter pink acrylic paint, and finished with two layers of clear nail polish.

Also time consuming was creating the base; the kit just came with a printed grass cutout and some plastic moss powder. I added gravel under the caravan (as most campsites might have), larger pebbles and plastic grass strands, dried grass and plants that resemble lilies and harakeke, often seen in the wilder areas of Aotearoa. The mat is cut from a place-mat.

I also made a cool wire-and-post fence! I only really had access to that thicker wire at the time, so its not completely to scale, but it looks amazing anyway.

Here are some details~!

On the roof-rack we have plenty of luggage and a guitar, and I added a towel (and improved the rack as it sat too high on the og kit),

Whoever lives here is prepping for a hike and a picnic! They have their retro ipod, maps (printed from real pamphlets found online), headphones and of course a picnic basket with snacks and sunnies.

Plants decorate the flat surfaces outside. I made the shelf from scratch as the kit came with a weird brown table thing that I didn't like. I also used the shelf to make an extra light for the outside, as the kit only had the one light on the inside. The lantern is a plastic straw large enough for the LED with a cardboard cuff and a button on top.

The BBQ area is a little under-decorated, mainly because I ran out of ideas for this area. I have some plans to finish it with some BBQ tools and crockery. Proud of the tiny jandals, though!

A big kitty at the back, alongside the revamped bumper. The plate comes from some travel-themed scrapbooking paper (ignore that its from colorado lol). The cat was found at the thrift store, badly worn and covered in stickers (someone had tried to turn him into a pendant!). I cleaned him up and painted in some details - now he's the campsite cat~ (of course in real life, all cats should be kept inside for their own safety and for the conservation of local wildlife)

Peeking in through the windows! And the door:

So yeah, while I do have a few more ideas to keep adding to it, I'd say the Happy Camper kit is just about finished!

The kit makes a great starting point for a more advanced project, but I didn't use much of the original furniture or even the smaller elements. Overall this was an amazing project for me because I love camping So Much (I have like five lego campervan kits lol) and I just had so many ideas as I was making it.

[moondustis]

remember when (m)

pairing: jaehyun + reader genre: angst, smut, soulmate!au, rich kid!au, convenience marriage!au, hurt/comfort, college!au (more details + warnings after read more)  word count: 12,7k summary: A story about vulnerability and the lines we draw to avoid it. About soulmates, desires, setting yourself free. And, of course, a story about love and discovering exactly what it is. song recs: skin by mac miller and pure love by hayley williams 

warnings: there are some mentions of drug use, brief mention of mental issues, bad parenting. just overall some subjects that might not be comfortable to read like i usually put on my fics but it's nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing graphics happens!  disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. none of the events described are real or are an accurate representation of the people and brands named. 

a/n: i would like to thank mary (neostains) for requesting this fic and cami (caiuscassiuss) for helping me with some informations about how ivy leagues work lol. this is my longest work so far, i think, and it’s a very special one. i hope you guys enjoy it! 

✶

There was a time in your childhood where you remember being obsessed with princess movies. Cinderella, Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, name a fairytale and you would have probably watched it a couple of times, entranced by the images playing on the newest television your father had bought.

Isn’t it fucked up that young girls are always fed this stereotypical image of love? It’s like a woman is not good for anything but to love someone, to be a half until she found the other and became whole. At 8 you ate that up like no one else.

At 11 your mother hires someone to give you a talk, about how the world worked and about the weird name that would appear in your arm once you turned 18. It feels like a lecture, the woman telling you about perfect matches, the probabilities of love and soulmates in a flat tone that didn’t make you feel as excited as you did watching the fairytales you used to like. When you tell your friends at school about it, they act surprised at the way you were told and instead, tell you about the stories about meeting your true love their own parents had shared.

At 15, your mother enrolls you in preparatory school, with full theatricals about intellects and getting into the best college possible so you can do your duty as heir of your father’s company when it becomes necessary.

It takes you a while, but you realize finally that love is nothing compared to money when you see for the first time that the name on your mother's wrist is not your fathers. Not long after that, you find out that for the sake of the company, you would be marrying Jung Jaehyun, heir of the second biggest automobilistic company in the country.

At 18 you think romance and love are trivial things.

⋄

NOVEMBER, 2013

It’s a harsh winter, one that makes your hands tremble and your head hurt more than usual.

You rub at your temples as you make your way down the hallway as students pass by you at the same pace as yours to get to their next class. A dreading routine, one that is so busy it leaves you with no time to think of anything else but the essay you have to write, or the grade you have been waiting to receive.

Today, though, your headache is so intense that your mind is filled with nothing but a black void.

Despite that, you walk in small steps to your literature lecture. Your bag feels as heavy as your head and the thick wool sweater you have on is barely enough to keep you warm, legs shivering from the stupid skirt they made you wear. Knee length, of course, but still a bother to sit and move.

Fuck boarding school, is what you think as you pass a group of boys talking loudly. One of them has a Harvard pin on his cardigan, you notice in the back of your mind. It only makes you feel sicker.

The first bell rings and you realize how slow you have been really walking. A faster pace, a muttered curse and then the second bells makes you feel like your ears are melting, headache increasing. Now you’re late, a rare occurrence that will probably not affect your records in any way, but still, makes you walk faster.

It all happens very fast. You turn into the corridor that leads to your classroom but not a second later you’re bumping straight into someone, books in your hand scattering to the floor and head spinning from the impact. It’s hard keeping your balance, but the harsh grip on your forearms helps and then you’re opening your eyes, that you didn't notice you had squeezed shut in the first place.

“Fuck, I’m really sorry.” The voice is familiar but the curse feels alien on your ears. Jung Jaehyun never curses, he has manners better than that. “I’m running late and walking too fast.”

He mumbles and you almost snort at the obviousness of it all. At the fact you were literally doing the same thing. “It’s okay. I should’ve been paying more attention.” There’s no reason for either of you to be apologizing, is what you think about as your hand immediately moves to your temple again in hopes pressing on it will cease the pain.

He’s looking right at you when you finally meet his eyes. His face is painted with embarrassment, the red hue on his ears a dead giveaway. He doesn’t keep eye contact for more than five second, instead moving to pick up your books for you. “Still, I’m very sorry.” He sounds polite, as always. The curse from before is still fresh on your mind.

You had met Jung Jaehyun at the age of 9, not that you remember exactly how it went. Some random brunch where you and him sat side by side as your mothers talked about whatever was happening seven years ago. You remember your old nanny being there, and how she asked sweetly if you would like more juice. You remember missing her when she got fired three weeks later for unrelated matters that were never told to you. And that’s about it.

After that, the years passed with Jaehyun being a weird presence in your life. The rich kids ran in the same circles, that didn’t take you a long time to realize and wherever you went he was there too.

German classes at 11, the birthday party of the daughter of someone you didn't know at 12, etiquette classes at 13. An event for your father's company at 14, one of his fathers at 15 and now at 16, attending the same boarding school and having to meet each other like this, with awkward smiles and polite conversation. Because navigating a relationship you didn't know the other very well, but too well at the same time was a weird thing to do.

Jung Jaehyun was like you, but at the same time he wasn't. You were friends but at the same time merely acquaintances.

But this you remember vividly: him asking you random things at german classes and making you laugh with his awkward pronunciation. Him eating cake by your side at the birthday party, covering his lips before he asked you if you like chocolate or vanilla more. Him making fun of you quietly for dropping down your fork loudly in the middle of etiquette class. Him standing awkwardly by your side while you got reprimanded by your mother during the event, for not properly remembering the name of a lady that came to greet you, your head down as you forced yourself not to cry in front of him.

And then, his father clapping yours on the back after they talked about how lovely it would be if someday the two of you got married to join economic forces. No, not someday. When you two got married.

You, pretending he didn't exist after that day, because you realized that this too you wouldn't get to decide.

Jaehyun clears his throat, hands you your books. “How is your father?” He asks, a stupid question to ask when you're both late. A stupid question to ask, period.

You try not to grimace. “He's okay. Alive.” And then he’s chuckling lowly, awkwardly.

“That’s good, no company to run at 16 then.” He tries to joke and it's amusing, in a way that for someone else might not be. But you two are the same, at least when it comes to this.

“And hopefully never.” A stupid thing to hope for, but still he smiles at you.

Then the moment is over, the third alarm sounds and both your eyes shoot open and you’re muttering goodbyes before heading to your classes.

Your head still hurts, but you don’t feel as cold anymore.

⋄

2015

Anticipation, isn’t that just a fancier word to describe the gut feeling that something is going to happen? Worst yet when you know exactly what it is, but have no possible ways of knowing the possible outcome.

There’s a window behind your advisor, with a view to the field where the lacrosse team practices. You watch it with a lack of interest as the older lady flips through pages and more pages of what is possibly your future.

No, not possibly. Definitely your future. Because at least to this, you knew the only outcome possible.

It’s a pretty day, one that shouldn’t be spent inside a room with wood furniture and shelves and more shelves of books, that are almost as many as the certificates on the wall. Not when it also happens to be your birthday.

“This is a really good essay, ___. You have a talent with words.” Your advisor breaks the silence in a flat voice despite it being a compliment. It makes your eyes immediately refocus on her but she gives you no time yet to reply. “I am sure the admission team will read it with interest.”

“Thank you.” A polite smile reaches your lips. She was never much of a praiser, not that she needed to be. Your last name carried all the confidence you needed to have for a thing like this.

And, perhaps the interest they would be having would be exactly about that. What does the only heir of the biggest automotive company in the country have to offer for Stanford? Probably a lot, with a weight that heavy on her shoulders.

“You have started applications to only two schools, are you sure you would not like to add more?” Now she says it in a weirdly soft tone. Persuasion, because it would look good for the school that one of their best students accepted to all the ivy leagues. Your GPA would make sure of that, but that's not all.

“I don’t see the point. Stanford has always been my only choice.” You say it as nicely as possible because this is an old conversation.

“I see, well. This is it then, there's a few other students interested in attending Stanford too." She smiles bitterly, gathering the papers and putting it back on their respective folders. "But the chances of you getting in are very good. I'm sure all your hard work will pay off.”

You go to thank her but at that moment there's a pinch on your arm that leaves you distracted. It's followed by a weird burning sensation that doesn't cease when you grip it underneath the table as gently as possible. If anything, the fabric of your cardigan only makes it worse.

She bids you your goodbyes, with pleasantries exchanged but when you reach the door to leave she interrupts. “Oh, I almost forgot. Happy birthday, ____.” She smiles when you turn to thank her. “Please enjoy the rest of the day, turning 18 is very special.”

With a small bitter smile and promise to do so, you leave the room.

You reach your dorm room in no time, a stoic face on but with quick steps. And you try not to think about it, but the burning sensation on your arms continues.

It goes like this:

You close the door behind you gently, dropping your things down and immediately crumbling as you slide to the floor, unable to stand still anymore. You cry, for the second time today because birthdays were just not good. For about 10 minutes that's all that happens, your silent sobs and complete silence filling the room.

The burning in your arms stays there as a painful reminder and it tempts you to look, even though you know that the outcome didn't matter, not for you. Because behind blurry teary eyes you can see perfectly the image of your own mother's arm and the name of someone you didn't know, that she probably also didn't.

Because you are now 18 and you think romance and love are trivial things, that's all they could be.

You are now 18, and when you can't stand not knowing for another minute, you raise the sleeve of your cardigan and the name Jung Jaehyun is there on your wrist.

An ugly, incredulous laugh leaves your lips and soon turns into a sob. Of course it had to be him, you and Jung Jaehyun were tied to each other for a reason that was beyond fate.

You squeeze your eyes at the same time your hands squeeze your thighs, trying to get a grip. You calm yourself down, deep breaths in and out, your mind providing the good and the bad. No matter how you looked at it, it seemed like a trick the universe was playing on you. One, it would be worse if another name appeared, a name that you would have to pretend didn't exist, because this was just another thing you didn't have a say in. This was supposed to happen anyway, maybe it was better this way.

Then your mind provides another thought that makes your mind swirl. Jung Jaehyun had turned 18 in February, your name had appeared on his arms months ago and he didn't say a word about it to you, or to anyone for all you know. Maybe he was pretending too, maybe he wanted more time thinking that at least this he would get to choose.

Well, whatever fairytale that had been created inside stupid minds, was gone now.

⋄

The whole thing is announced two weeks later, in a gossip magazine with information from an inside source. Information that is carefully crafted from a marketing team the moment you reveal the result.

A result, like a test had been applied and you got Jung Jaehyun for whatever reason.

You exchange pleasantries the next time you see him, no trace of being too young to know the rest of your lives already. You just look at each other in maybe defeat, while your families make a toast to celebrate a wedding to take place in a few years from now. A wedding that held meaning beyond the marks that tied the two of you. Destiny just helped a little bit, it was just a good excuse to justify a marriage that had been arranged ages ago.

A month later you get accepted to Stanford, of course you do. And your mother's smile is a loud reminder of every single time she called you and inquired about every grade, every step you made to make sure this happened and that it all happened accordingly.

It doesn't take you long to find out Jaehyun got accepted there too.

⋄

AUGUST 2016

The heels of your Miu Miu boots make small stomping noises on the wood floor sounds as you walk through shelves and shelves filled with books. It’s not a loud sound, probably only perceived by your own ears, and you let it distract you as you navigate the big corridors of the Green Library.

Stanford had made your eyes shine during your first visit and then for the first months of your freshman year. The thrill of finally experiencing something new and yet undiscovered carried on until it gave space to normalcy, another routine. But this time, a feeling blossomed inside your stomach with wanting to eat it up.

A feeling that died and resurrected every now and then, but you played it safe. Navigating it with baby steps with fear of what could happen if you strained a little too far from the line. And what could that be? A magazine spread on how a famous philanthropic's daughter parties too hard in college, with pictures of you doing a line on marble countertops?  A class failed and the disappointment on your mother's voice when she called you? A scandal about your night escapades? You didn’t want to find out just yet.

So you settle for your new routine, of going out every now and then with the roommates that you were about to consider friends. Pondering if it’s worth it to join another club, just to feel like there's something else that makes you feel excited. Coming to the library, studying to keep your mind busy because your thoughts were never up to no good.

And it's so easy, being busy like you always managed to, with assignments, and volunteering and maintaining a perfect GPA.

It's also easy to ignore Jung Jaehyun’s existence. Because this time, unlike in boarding school, the task is much simpler, since classes are filled with so many people that on the ones you shared with him you barely get a glance of his eyes. Because he ran around in circles that had nothing to do with yours.

It was always clear to you, since youth, that Jaehyun was a social butterfly that just needed a little pushing, and he was nice enough that people always wanted him near. A high contrast to your quietness and introverted ways, staying in small circles and almost never allowing people to get too close.

It's weird thinking about him, putting a face to the name that was forever marked on your skin as a reminder of your future. It was weird thinking that it was easy to ignore this feeling too, like all the other ones that you have kept away in your small little box. The feelings that came out at least once a year when it all became too much, and you would sit in a duvet to spill all the dead butterflies inside your stomach out on the floor of a therapy clinic.

But even like this, weirdness doesn't begin to cover the way sometimes you catch yourself thinking of a memory that involves him, random and unexpected. A moment shared before the two of you discovered what expected you, before destiny was revealed. And you don't pretend that it's not real, that you don't feel the longing and need to be close, that your skin doesn't tingle when you see him around campus. You were long past pretending now, because there was no reason to play dumb when sometimes all you had were your own thoughts to rot your brain.

What you were good at, though, was concealing it all.

Was Jaehyun good at that too? Now that's something that you think about more than you would like. It didn't help that sometimes you would bump into him out of nowhere.

You enter the marketing aisle, eyes fixed on the small numbers taped to each section in hopes that the book you need was still here. It takes you awhile to realize that there's someone else with you, only moving your head up when you hear the footsteps approaching.  

“Hi.” Jaehyun says, a small smile on his lips that is as gentle as every other thing about his looks. He stands close, but not too much. A safe distance for you to run your eyes through his body one time, eyes stopping at the big ‘S’ on his sweatshirt.

You clear your throat before greeting him back. “Hello.” Your voice is low, thoughtful of your surroundings, but you match his smile in a silent agreement of politeness.

His eyes run through your face the same way yours does his. Curiosity, or maybe the longing feeling you try to not think about. The unspoken space in between the two of you is intact for now.  

He has changed so much in a year, is what you always think about when you two get to see each other up close. It always made you feel a weird nostalgia, seeing a face you had known for so long but now feels a little out of reach because of your own stubbornness. Your own fears.

“What book are you looking for?” He asks after some time, making small talk.

You turn your eyes to the books, him following. “Uhm, Kotler.”

“Oh, of course. How is marketing going?” You almost laugh at his attempt to make conversation, a skill well acquired during etiquette class.

“It’s okay. Not regretting it yet.” A half lie. Maybe another thing you were keeping locked deep down, your dislike for your major. But thinking about that while having a conversation with your soulmate was far from something you wanted to do.

He hums amused, eyes still fixed on the shelf. “That's good.”

You finally find the book, leaning down to get it and hugging it to your chest as your mind searches for something to offer for your own piece of ice breaker. Then you remember seeing his face last week printed on a glossy paper, an intricate article on consumerism tendencies online besides it.

“Congrats on the publication.” You say, facing him again. It’s genuine, because you knew how things like that really mattered. Small things that were nowhere near the accomplishments expected of the two of you, but still something to be proud of.

He laughs lowly, with bashful manners of looking down to his feet and with ears turning red. “It’s just a campus magazine.” Because of course he would be humble, amongst all the other qualities you were well acquainted with. Deep down you know that it's just a reflection of the high expectations that have been set the moment he was born.

“Still, it was very well written. And everyone said it was impressive for a freshman.” Everyone being the friend that showed you the magazine, but you'll pretend for him that it was something more. To try and erase the feeling of not deserving something that probably runs through his mind.

You would crush it beneath your boots if you could, it's the weird thought that runs through yours.

He huffs. “Well, it’s Stanford. Hard to know what's gonna be impressive and what is just expected of you.”

“Good thing we are all promising young adults that don't need their egos to be fed, right?” You joke back and it makes him laugh a little too loudly, quickly stopping himself as you two exchange awkward but familiar glances with tiny smiles on your lips.

A moment of silence settles next, one that lasts only long enough for you to shift the weight from one leg to another. Then he's asking. “Are you… Are you doing something this weekend?”

“I’m expected at a company party.” You reply flatly, blinking twice but not really pondering the reasons for his curiosity. You two stare at each other for a second that passes quickly.

“The HSBC event?” He asks and you nod, expecting the words he says next. “Oh, I'll attend it as well.”

“Boring, huh?” An attempt to continue a conversation that should've ended by now.

“Yeah.” He looks at you, and then away, and then back at you. “I was thinking that we could have din-“

Footsteps interrupt his words and you look behind your shoulder to see who the newcomer is. A tall man, taller than Jaehyun even, smiles at you guiltily before he’s looking at Jaehyun and raising his brows. “We are late, dude.” He deadpans as you look between the two of them.

“Shit, I didn’t realize.” Jaehyun says in a groan, bringing his big watch to his face,  and you have to contain a smile at the curse. Then he turns to you. “Sorry, I gotta go.”

“It’s fine.” You mumble, the book still held tight against your chest.

He waves awkwardly as the other man throws you another smile. You watch them leave with trembling fingers.

⋄

DECEMBER 2017

December always made you feel a little weird. Blame it on the cold and the days spent in bed trying to get the warmth you craved. Or on the impending approach of winter break and having to deal with your parents and your obligations for the month to follow.

But you try not to think about that just yet, when the time comes you'll deal with it. That's what you always do. For now you let your bed swallow you as you scroll down mindless through your instagram feed, double tapping publications of past boarding school acquaintances smiling with the Harvard location attached to each picture, just like the brand names are attached to their clothes. It's a little pathetic to you that your own account looks the same, with pictures carefully picked with a marketing tactic in mind.

Your little distraction is interrupted when the door to your room opens and your roommate, Ela, walks in, clearly shivering from the cold even underneath her thick dark grey coat. “God, it's fucking freezing outside.” She mumbles as a greeting, removing her boots and setting it close to the door before draping her coat on her chair.

“How was the meeting?” You ask from under your blankets, laughing a little as she drops her things on her own bed. The question makes her sigh loudly.

“That dude is still an asshole.” The dude in question being her partner to a never ending project of rebranding that sometimes stressed even you, from how much she talked about it. “But we are almost done with it now.”

“That's good.”

She plops on her bed, across from yours and a comfortable silence settles for a moment as she probably tries to have a moment of calmness.

Ela was an old face on your life, having attended the same school but never really getting closer than knowing each other's name. Still, it was good that you got paired to dorm with her. A familiar face that became a friend of sorts, as the two of you built a relationship on things in common and the want to have someone you could trust in a new place. And she was different than you, more outgoing, had a liking for socializing that you could never match, but still understood you.

“Hey, did you finish that essay already?” She asks, turning her face to you.

“Yes, it was bitch to write.”

“And Kotler is super boring to read.” A sigh escapes her lips and you agree loudly because she's right. Sometimes, when you allowed yourself a moment of wishful thinking, you would wonder what it would be like to have a major that you didn't feel like your brain was melting from boredom when reading about.

“I'm really tired.” You reply, just to say something back.

“Same. Are you doing something for winter break?”

In your mind you know exactly what you'll be doing, a schedule even ready on your mind, but  instead you say “Not really, are you?”

She hums, voice tired but still excited as she goes on about how she wants to go to Europe again, visit Amsterdam because that was one of her favorite travel destinations. When you ask how it was, she describes in perfect detail, how the streets looked and how it felt very welcoming, telling you that you absolutely had to go there someday.

You promise to go and in the back of your mind you wish you could. Maybe you can if you can do more week hours on your internship and ask for a free week.

You shake your head at that though.

“Oh, I got this little get together today. At that bar downtown.. .Do you want to go?” You know she’s asking out of politeness, not because she didn't want you there but because you rarely said yes to her invitations.

But there’s a tiny spark on your chest, one that resembles the restless feeling you would get when you stayed too long laying down. It's not a motivation as much as it is boredom and the wish to feel something other than half emptiness. Other than the want to escape.

“Ok.” You say, shrugging slightly.

“Really?”

The raise of her brow makes you laugh. “Yeah, we are getting home next week. That's the last time I get to do this for a while.”

⋄

The bar is a little crowded, with winter break approaching and no one really daring step outside for a smoke because of how cold it is. The owners took great advantage of that by offering a ‘buy two get one free’ deal, that if you take a closer look at is really just a scam considering the price. But it's enough to fool college students that are excited about being away from this place for a while.

That’s what you think about after you down the remnants of the third drink you and your roommate shared. It’s not that kind of night, of getting wasted and not remembering anything the next day. It’s more of a little get together, for your roommate's club members and you are here merely as an intruder.

You feel just a little tipsy as you listen to her friends talk, some of them you knew from afar and some were just strangers that were nice enough to make you laugh every now and then. Still, you feel detached from the conversation, smiling and nodding when needing but not really taking part.

“What about you, ___?” A girl with round cheeks and pretty eyes asks you regarding your vacation plans. “You gotta invite us if you are throwing a party.”

You scoff before you can catch yourself. Alcohol always drops your inhibitions a little, but still you are quick to cover it up. You laugh along with the others, promising to invite everyone even though you are not throwing any parties, most likely never.

You roommate looks at you from the corner of her eye, smiling sympathetically because she knows you, and knows how stupid her friends are, but it's fine. You just wish you could just take it easily, the interest, the wanting to get close so they too will appear in a gossip magazine and live the life they think you do, without wanting to tell them to get a fucking life already, because this is just pathetic.

You smile back at her, wishing for another drink as your thigh highs start to roll a little uncomfortably. Shifting from leg to leg does nothing to help it, so you try to push the little annoyance to the back of your mind.

The small groups divide in different topics over the time, and you find yourself talking to some guy you had never seen before, that goes on and on about his amazing business ideas and how successful it's going to be when he finds the right stakeholders. You nod and try to focus through the whole thing.

The rest of the night goes like that. Fake laughter, loud music and conversation that gets more boring as the clock ticks, so you find an escape excusing yourself to go to the bathroom, not because you need to but to get away for a second.

In retrospect maybe it would've been better to endure another discussion about LA clubs and entrepreneurship.

The bar is so crowded that you have to excuse yourself at least five times, and on the sixth one you end up bumping into someone.

“Oh.” Is the clever thing you say when your eyes are met with Jaehyun already looking at you, his eyes lower than usual from probably taking advantage of the drink deal like you had.

He looks relaxed, hair parted in a way that shows his forehead and an all black outfit that doesn’t look as expensive as it probably is, but he makes it work so well that you do a double look while in your hazy state. If he notices, he doesn’t show it by the way he keeps his smile unfazed at you.

“We gotta stop seeing each other by accident,” he says, laughing a little.

“Yeah.” His words take a little to digest so you keep looking at him for a beat of a second. It’s a first, seeing him in a place like this. Where you can see just how well he really can adjust to any setting. He fits right in with the low lights and the relaxed atmosphere.

“This is Johnny.” He gestures for the guy besides him, who turns his attention to you and smiles in a way that’s a little familiar. Then you realize he’s the guy from the library over a year ago, and the friend Jaehyun posted pictures every now and then on his instagram page.

“Hey, It’s nice to meet you.” Johnny says, same smile from before still on and you return it. “Have heard a lot about you.”

That makes you laugh, a mixture of confusion and excitement and politeness that confuses even yourself. “Good things I hope.”

He tilts his head playfully. “Only the best things you can hear in place like this.”

The three of you share smiles, the interaction then turning into a conversation promoted by a question you ask, both from wanting to have something to say and out of curiosity. Johnny does most of the talking, explaining how he and Jaehyun had been friends for a while but only got closer now that they are attending the same university. They share a story of something that happened, them buying each other the same thing for christmas and you listen to the whole thing entranced.

It’s weird in some way how you can learn so much from your own soulmate from someone else. And it's weird how you react with joy, perhaps, to the teasing Johnny does to Jaehyun so naturally.

When the conversation settles down, Johnny looks between the two of you for a few seconds before he’s excusing himself to find an unnamed person. It was predictable he would do that, with the way he kept aiming the conversation to make it about Jaehyun, as if he somehow had to wing his friend to you.

You stare at your shoes, unsure of what to say now and maybe too worn out from the whole night to come up with something to talk about. But you don’t have to, because soon he’s asking  “Are you here alone?”

You look up, a tiny smile on your lips. “No, I came with my roommate. But she's with her friends.”

“Oh, I’ll keep you company then.” He offers and you nod, following him to the bar where it's more illuminated and you can both lean a little on the counter.

Jaehyun is good at making people feel comfortable, you had noticed that many times before and it's no surprise when he asks you about your roommate, about what songs you have been listening to lately. He tries to keep a conversation with ease, even if it stays in the usual surface you two are used to.

If you weren't so distracted by everything, your mind would probably offer that it feels a lot like when you were kids and standing in the corner of a ballroom in uncomfortable clothes, talking about things that didn't matter.

“Have you ever been to Amsterdam?” You ask him suddenly when the past topic dies down.

“Yeah, it's really nice there.”

You hum, remembering your roommate's words. “That’s cool, I really want to go there someday.”

Out of nowhere he starts laughing a little, as if you had said something funny. When you inquire about it, he shakes his head clearly amused by the way his eyes squint a little from his smile. “It's just… Don’t you think it's weird that we have known each other for all these years, and all we do is do this weird small talk?”

You laugh too, speaking before you can stop yourself. “And still for some reason I feel like I know you.”

His eyebrows raise for a second but his smile is unfaltering, your statement not bothering him.  “You know me.” He says, as a matter of fact. “And I know you.”

Now this makes you freeze, blinking slowly but it doesn't last long until you are covering your surprise by chuckling. Your eyes meet his and it strikes you that it's true, you know him and he knows you. Not everything, but what would be the fun in that.

Maybe that's why the two of you kept doing this small talk, to get to know each other better even in the smallest things. That's what getting to know someone is, after all. Not the business interviews and networking you grew up with.

You shake your thoughts away, leaning on the counter with one elbow and then resting your face on your palm. “What is your favorite thing about me then?” It's what you ask, in a playful tone to keep the conversation going. Or because you actually want to know, out of curiosity or vanity.

He chuckles, bringing his hand to his face as if in deep thought, before he replies. “I like that you are smart.”

The simplicity of it makes you snort. “Please, that's a cliche thing to say in a place like this.” You say, mimicking the words his friend had said to you earlier. “What does that even mean?”

“I don't know.” He shrugs while laughing, “Johnny just says things like that sometimes.”

You nod then, making an amused sound while you turn on the counter to stare forward. Your roommate is on the opposite side of yours, leaning against a wall while talking to a girl taller than her but just as pretty. The view makes a tiny smile settle on your lips, the beginning of a spark on your chest.

It always amazed you how people who didn't know their soulmate yet continued to live on, simply letting the universe do its thing naturally. In your young mind you had always thought that love was supposed to be a yearning that you couldn't control, that you would have to be with the person you love no matter what, and do anything to find them. That had changed now.

You turn to Jaehyun again. “What would you say is your favorite thing about me then, if we didn't know each other already?” You ask. It's a weird question because it makes him raise one eyebrow at you, but there's still not a trace of annoyance on his face.

“Isn't that also cliche to say?” He huffs. “That you are the prettiest girl I have ever seen?”

You can't help the embarrassed laugh that leaves your parted lips in shock. “Are you flirting with me?”

His ear gets an incredible red shade and you find it extremely charming. “It's just the truth.” He defends himself and it only makes you giggle more.

You thank him, tell him that you think he’s pretty too and correct it to handsome when he raises one eyebrow again. It makes a nice atmosphere settle and you feel comfortable enough to ask “So... if we didn't know each other you would flirt with me at a random party? Buy me a drink and all that?”

He smiles, dimples showing while he brushes his hair back. It's not the first time, of course, but you find yourself a little in awe at how pretty he actually is. Pretty in a way that makes you feel a little out of it, stunned by the way his lips start forming his next words.  

“What do you like to drink?” He asks casually.

Now it's your turn to raise one eyebrow. “Hmm, I like Moscow Mules.”

You watch as he turns to the bar, calling the waiter over and ordering two drinks of your said preference. The mixture of feelings on your chest make you feel drunker than you did before and you wish you could put a name to it. Excitement, amusement, whatever it is only increases when he looks at you again.

“I’m Jung Jaehyun, by the way.” He offers, smiling sweetly and you match it when you realize what he's playing at

“I’m _____. It's nice to meet you.”

⋄

Playing pretend with him is easy, even more when the drinks make your inhibitions fall completely. Jaehyun tells a joke and you lean forward a little. Then you talk about something and he comes closer as if to hear better. Another drink and plenty of silly conversation later, he's completely invading your space in a way that you don't feel slightly bothered by.  

Not even when leans to whisper in your ear. “Do you want to get out of here?”

You leave the bar giggling like the two mildly drunk people you are, basking in the joy of it and of the little fantasy you two have created. Jaehyun keeps you close, your hands linked and it's such a nice feeling that you get even more overwhelmed in a good way. The two of you walk almost glued to each other basically skipping and muttering playfully things just to say something.

When you are near the dorm complex, he stops abruptly and when you turn to him, his hands find your cheeks and his eyes search yours for a brief moment before he’s bringing your face closer to his.

It's a sweet kiss, contrary to what you thought it would be when you allowed yourself to think about this. You had always imagined desperation, not being able to endure not doing it anymore. But the reality is that Jaehyun kisses you with delicacy and  even if there is desperation to it, it's not in a way that overpowers anything else. But in a way that makes you moan lowly, makes you press him even closer by grabbing his shirt as he moves his lips slowly against yours.

There are no fireworks, no deep realization that you are kissing the person you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. But it's good, makes you want more, makes you want to bring him closer than possible, and maybe that's proof enough.

You reach his dorm in a blink after that, him having a bit of a hard time opening the door but when he does it takes no time for you to be pressed to it.

For a moment he just looks at you, eyes hazy and shining. They run through your face the same way yours does his, with longing that is finally allowed. You try to quiet the way your heart beats by leaning forward and kissing him.

The kiss is hungry but never too fast, with his hands moving to your hips and you pulling on his lips. When you moan a little at the feel, he opens his mouth a little, sliding his tongue against yours and you swear at yourself for waiting so long. Swear that you will never get enough of this.

Your lips move together in a way that is proof enough to you that this is something else even in your drunk state. His lips are soft, tongue moving with yours as if he wants to take his time and when your hands move from his shoulders to his neck he  shudders, parting from you with a wet sound.

“W-We should...” He murmurs against your lip and you nod before he even finishes, letting him lead you to his bed. It feels a lot like yours, and the rest of the room is just as familiar but you pay no attention to that when he lays you on it gently.

It’s no surprise that Jaehyun is a giving lover and you figure that out when he kisses you like he wants to find out exactly what you like. Exactly how to make you fall apart in his hands.

He does everything with an expertise that maybe should make you feel jealous, but out of all things you are, a hypocrite is not one of them. So he shows you what he has learn from other people, and you show him what you have

And he doesn't settle for anything less than kissing all over your body after the two of you get undressed. For less than telling you in whispered words that he has dreamed about this before so many times and immediately swallowing with his tongue the words you would never be able to let out.

That you had dreamed about this too.  Dreamed about coming on his tongue as he eats you out, your hands grabbing at his hair and seeing stars. A giving lover, of the best kind,  Even more when he asks, with his mouth shining with your arousal. “How do you want it?”

You blink as your mind spins with the endless possibilities, but the ultimate realization that you would have him any way.  You decide on the one that gives you more control. “I… I want to ride you.”

He bites his lips, ears burning red again. “Yeah,” His words come out mumbles as he just looks at you for a second before moving to lay on his back. “Yeah, ok. Fuck.”

You straddle his hips after he rolls down the condom, his eyes looking up at you in what you think is adoration, pure desire. And then you kiss him again, all tongue but still slow. So deep that you think you’ll never forget what he tastes like.

He lets you sink down at your own pace, palms on your ass when you move slowly, feeling him stretch you with every inch you sit on. He hums, hands tracing your skin delicately and it only makes it so much worse.

You move, a grind at first testing the water and immediately crying out lowly from the friction and you look for support with nails grabbing at his chest. He doesn't seem to mind.

“Good?” A stupid question to ask with the way you are so wet around him that the room is filled with a squelching sound when you move up and down with all the patience in the world.

Still, you nod. “You feel - Fuck - really good.”

He looks down at where you’re connected, biting his lips to suppress the noises you want him to let out so you move your hips with purpose, eyes roaming his face to watch it contort in pleasure as he lets out the prettiest moan you have ever heard. Low and deep.

His hands move further down then, gripping your hips and moving you in a grind that feels too good. So good that you have to drop your arms to his chest for leverage as he moves you to his liking, pushing your hips back and forth.

You come with your back arching, long moan of his name as your entire body shakes and tingles and you have to grip at the sheets beside you for support. You try to keep moving as your orgasm washes over you but its too much and your walls clenching around his cock  makes him grip your ass even tighter, the action sending a thrill down your body as you fall forward on his chest with a wail.

Your mind swims in the gooey feeling of pleasure and all you can think about is him. Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun.

He waits for a second, hand moving to your back as your body trembles, drawing calming circles on it. When you have calmed down, he plants his feet on the bed and starts moving his hips up slowly and patiently but with deep strokes that make you bite your lip with oversensitivity.

And when you can, you move your head up, balancing yourself on your arms and looking at him. He wastes no time in kissing you, not deep because he parts his lips in a groan during a particular stroke, speeding his movements and grunting when you try to meet them back.

It’s when he has had enough, that he pulls out only to turn you on your back so he can enter you more easily, his hips now meeting yours in a pace that tells you that he’s close.

“Jae, oh… oh my god.” You sigh dreamily yet broken enough that it makes him smile when a sharp thrust makes your hips raise a little. He looks proud of being able to get you like this.

He hums as if agreeing with a very thorough statement, moving his arms so he can press his chest to yours as he fucks into you with calculated thrusts . You can barely move with his weight on top of you, with how he seems to lock you in place with his hips and it’s enough for another broken sob to fall from your lips.

“Deep?” He asks in a groan and with a nice slide of his cock inside of you to punctuate the question. You nod frantically because he’s as deep as he can get, knows this very well, and the feeling is something that makes you flutter around him in the desperate need to come.

He kisses your cheek then, two sweet but filthy enough with his heavy exhales against it. His pace never gets too fast, just hinting at it but he maintains a speed that leaves you in the brink of another orgasm. But, you only reach it when he pinches your clit with his fingers, circling it until your lips part in a silent scream and you’re coming again, stars behind your eyelids.

And the sounds he makes when your walls squeeze just a little more than he can handle are something else. A deep groan and a pained little sob that you find extremely endearing and hot at the same time, his face contorting as he quickened his pace just enough to push him over the edge, finally releasing inside the condom.    

He pulls out, breath heavy as he smiles at you falling putty on the bed and watching as he removes the condom and disposes it only to come quickly to the bed quickly.

He hovers over you, kissing you sweetly. Your arms find his shoulders easily as the two of you bask in the afterglow of it.

Then he kisses you again, tongues dancing together and you don’t mind when his hand starts to wander again, sending goosebumps to your body. His fingers find your clit with ease, circling it slowly before applying more pressure as your lips part and your hand grip his arm, for support and not to cut the actions.

You come again, not as strong as your first one but still enough to have you shaking a little and screaming silently. His finger stays at your clit, hovering until he asks again in a whisper. “Another?”

You nod, and he resumes his actions slowly, until you are seeing starts and he swallows your moans with kisses and stops your trembling with soft hands grounding you.

When you recover your breath, an incredulous laughter leaves your lips. “You’re insane.” He just smiles, nose brushing against yours.  “God, I...I gotta clean up now.”

He moves to get up. “Yeah sure, I’ll show you the bathroom.”

You end up cleaning together, a shower that doesn't take you long, even if it's hard to keep your hands to yourselves but you are both tired, feeling a little drained after the glow has gone away.

⋄

Afterwards, you are laying on his bed side by side, surrounded by the smell of his body wash and wearing the big t-shirt and sweatpants he offered you.

Your mind starts wandering lazily with the remnants of your high, that's why the words escape your mouth without much thought. “Isn't it weird that even if we have someone in the world meant for us we can still feel lonely?” You are not lonely right now, not really. Maybe it's just the sadness of winter speaking, or maybe you're still a little drunk.

He takes a second to reply, voice low when he does. “Yeah. But you don't have to.” He says.“ Feel lonely, I mean. You don't have to.”

It's a little funny how he feels the need to explain himself to you, as if you don't quite understand him when the reality it's both very far from that and exactly it at the same time.

“I don't think thats how it works. It's not up to me.” If it was, wouldn't you have stopped being lonely by now? Wouldn't you have finally succumbed to the desperate need of wanting someone, something, when late night hit and the mark in your arm would burn just as your eyes as you fought back tears?

Still, he says simply. “I think it is.”

You smile sadly then, turning to him a little and watching as he kept his gaze on the ceiling. He looked relaxed, as if this setting was soothing his mind and it makes a familiar feeling blossom on your chest.  “What did you feel when the mark showed up on your arm?” A question that you had wanted to ask the moment you found out it was him, but instead had failed miserably to guess the answer to.

“Relief.” He says without thinking, a truthful and genuine reply.

“That you wouldn't have to end up marrying someone that wasn't your soulmate?” You ask. All these years you had thought that this must've been it, what you felt that day.

“No. I was relieved that it was you anyway.” Is his reply, body turning and eyes meeting yours. For a second you’re frozen, blinking because it’s strange to have someone put their feelings out so easily.

“Is… Is that what love is, then?” You ask softly. “Relief that you have at least one person that makes you feel held?”

Maybe this is not really what he meant,  and more so wishful thinking of your part than anything else, but still he nods.

“I think it’s that. And other things.” His voice is soft when he says this. “I'm not sure what it is, but I want to find out.”

You can’t help as you examine his face after his confession. Is this what being soulmates is, then? Having someone that it's worth taking the risk of finding out? Or maybe it’s having someone that will show you exactly what it is.

Does all that explain the way you can't look away from him?

“Me neither.” You reply in the same quiet voice because it’s true. You tend to act like you know everything, and that you know what love is. You know love it’s pathetic and that it gets in the way of things, but is it really that bad? So you ask “Is it bad that I think you'll only love me because the mark on your arm tells you to?”

He laughs briefly. “No, it makes sense.” His eyes find yours again. “But you know it’s not, don't you?”

“I do.” At least you do now.

Maybe that's why you fall asleep so easily

⋄

2014 (flashback)

It’s the last day before summer break and Jaehyun is tired.

The other four guys he shared a room with are all packing their things for a nice vacation somewhere in Europe or one of the paradisiac beaches they all like to talk about. Jaehyun just wants to get home, not think about college applications for two months and maybe go somewhere he can be alone for a while.

“Sooyoung is kinda hot, huh?”  Yugyeom says out of nowhere and the room settles in a unison hum of agreement. He joins in too.

There’s a loud creak noise as another one of his roommates slumps into the bed but he doesn't bother checking who it is, mind somewhere else as he stares at the ceiling.

“True. But I would die if Ela gave me her number.” Jungkook sighs dreamily and Jaehyun can't help the snort that escapes his lips. Just yesterday they had a conversation exactly like this one, but not quite as innocent. Trust a group of men that have no idea who their roommates are to act like this.

Even though Doyoung, the only one of them that already knew, still acted the same when it came to this. His soulmate isn't someone he knew already, so what was the point in waiting. That's why he asks the next question. “Jaehyun, you know ___, right? Does she stick to the whole ‘waiting’ thing?”

Jaehyun blinks, shifts almost unnoticeable. “I don't know her like that.” Is what he says, which is a half true. He knows her, probably things no one else knows but that’s what happens when you grow up in the same circles, he guesses. Right now though, he feels like he doesn’t know her anymore, not with the distance she had put between them after the wedding was announced by your parents.

Then, he starts thinking about himself. Is he waiting for his soulmate? He has kissed some girls, but it never went beyond that. But now he remembers coming home from german class one day and his mother making soft cake as she told him about the name that would appear on his wrist.

He remembers that he had said loudly that he wished ____ would be his name, because then they could be better friends for some reason as silly as playing around together.

Sicheng interrupts his thoughts by snorting loudly. “Are you really trying to hit?” He asks Doyoung. “Gonna end up in the cover of a magazine for trying to corrupt the nation’s good girl.”

The room erupts in laughter and comments after that. He drowns it with his mind going somewhere else.

That night he dreams about her.

⋄

10, FEBRUARY 2018

Winter break goes by quickly with one too many end of the year celebration and wishing people you had never seen before a happy new year.

You spend your days fulfilling your internship at the company you would one day own, following around the superiors for the Marketing team and playing nice when they try to flatter you.

So busy that you can barely think about it, but you still do. You think about him so often that you think you have lost your mind.  And you see Jung Jaehyun too, here and there at parties, between whiskey glasses, tuxedos and unspoken words. Because, as you always thought, keeping it all unsaid is easier. At least for now.

Perhaps he knows it all, in a different way than you. So the two of you kept it lowkey, for the duration of those two months that are now gone with the wind. Two months of not a single magazine spread on your escapades, or you parents mentioning anything that is out of the ordinary.

It's as if the two of you have a secret, that some may assume, but still don't know for sure. What you and Jaehyun did that night is kept inside a locked box, one that you share with him and that every moment until now seems to fit in. What you don't know is if he too keeps the box as sacred as you do.

What you don't know is if the thought of it being opened by prying eyes scares him too.

Being back to campus is, ironically, a breath of fresh air. No more business meetings disguised as family celebrations, or stupid networking, or smiling for a camera to say that the company has never been better. No more internship and lack of time for something else.

February comes and it's just you, your dorm bed and the roommate you will miss when it's time. Just the lectures and keeping busy and trying not to think about things only to fail miserably.

But then, there are the phone calls, never ending and always the same. Or almost always.

The phone lights up, stupid ringtone, and your heart starts beating a little faster. How could someone ever guess what a phone call is about?  Not having control made you antsy.

Your mother greets you as always, stern words, asking how you have been out of politeness. You spend the entire phone call waiting for her to just say what she wants to already.

She mentions being busy, good opportunities, of an article you should read and something that sounds like a threat if you let yourself slip and get a scandal, even though she has said all this not long ago after gifting you another piece of jewelry you’ll keep stored deep in your drawer.

At least this time it doesn't take long for her to finally say what she wants. “Jaehyun’s birthday is soon. Don't forget to greet him.”

“I won't.” You reply simply but she’s quick to cut you off.

“Publicly. Maybe sending flowers would be good, or buying something that can get attention from the press.” It’s obvious this is not about you and your soulmate, it’s about you and your future. As everything is.

“Ok.”

“Just because he's your soulmate doesn't mean people will connect you two together forever.” She continues, never knowing when to stop. “You have to remind them of that.”

“I know that.” Because you do. There was no guarantee that your marriage with Jaehyun would be good publicity if the two of you weren’t liked or even popular.

You fear that when the time comes, people will realize something you yourself already has. That maybe you don’t really deserve Jaehyun, not because he’s better than you, but because you are not sure you can give him the love he deserves.

What you don't know clearly yet, is that you’re selfish and want him anyway.

“Good.” Your mother says and then the line cuts.

One time a therapist told you that maybe your mother was jealous. Because you would get to experience something she didn't, being with your soulmate, and that it was normal. It didn't mean she was evil and hated you. Another one said that that was the reason she was so stern, she wanted to keep you in line to prevent you from failure so as to not hurt you. That, behind the lack of affection, was a wish for your happiness.

Maybe there will be a time you understand that plenty. Maybe some things can never be truly fixed, only forgotten.

Four days days after that, you text Jaehyun a simple happy birthday with a heart at the end of it. You also get a chocolate cake sent to his place from a bakery you like, and when he calls to thank you, you tell him to not post it anywhere.

He laughs and tells you that it's a good idea.

⋄

2007 (flashback)

It was another late afternoon party, for another thing that you couldn’t remember or care about because things like this shouldn't really matter when you are only ten years old. Still, you had watched the other kids play with each other as their parents talked business and laughed, drunk from the bubbly drinks they downed glass after glass of.

For a moment you felt like reaching out and playing with them too, but it died soon and you stayed unmoving on the chair you had been placed in, while your parents did the same as the others somewhere in the distance.

It had been a pretty day, you remember, the sun was about to set and it made the shiny fabric on the tablecloths that were spread around the individual tables set outside, sparkle just the tiniest bit. You played with it to have something to distract yourself with.

You remember too, that Jung Jaehyun and his family were at the table right in front of yours, your parents greeting each other and talking briefly. Later on the party you had watched as he listened to something his mother said to him. She was beautiful, like your own mother, and you had heard her voice before so it had been easy to imagine in what tone she was speaking. Soft and low, how warmth felt like. As to the content of her words you would never know, but it had clearly been something nice because it made her son laugh as she patted his head.

You didn’t know back then that this moment would stick with you for the years to come, for a reason that at ten years old you were just beginning to understand. But still, the weird twist in your stomach, as you started to realize that something was wrong, would be felt many more times. As you realized that your family dynamics were not as warm as the others appeared to be.

⋄

25, FEBRUARY 2018

What you and Jaehyun have turns into something hard to describe.

The line you had so clearly put between the two of you, to avoid your future, had been replaced now by acceptance and the weird feeling of navigating a relationship that It’s still a new thing, but it’s also nice enough. Especially when he sends you a silly text and jokes about something, later on commenting the same thing on one of your instagram posts. It makes you feel giddy, that you have a shared secret.

Even more when he gives you a small knowing smile across the table while your father is non stop talking about the new model the company is about to release.

It’s a small dinner to celebrate Jaehyun’s birthday, or at least as small it can be in a restaurant like this, where the waiter will look you up and down if you are not wearing your prettiest silk dress and stiletto heels.

The whole thing had been rescheduled twice, because of busy schedules and whatnot, and now that both your parents had been able to fly here, you all sit underneath lowlights and drink expensive wine that is accompanied by a conversation that is so boring that you have trouble keeping up with it.

He finds you on the rooftop, hair blowing a little as he walks to you and in the back of your mind you think it’s a crime that he looks this good in a suit. That’s probably all the wine you had talking.

“Sorry I left you alone there.” You mutter with a sympathetic smile thrown his way when he reaches you, but you both know you are not sorry at all for escaping the stupid conversation your parents were having.

He chuckles. “You leaving was just a reason for me to escape too.”

The two of you turn to look at the city, the illuminated buildings looking minuscule from here but the tiny lights from each of them make for a breathtaking view. Jaehyun stands so close to you that your arms touch. You don’t mind.

“Looking at the city like that makes me feel really small.” You whisper, without really thinking.

“That’s because we are.” You hear his voice clearly, warm like honey and you don’t try to help the smile that forms in your lips.

“How do you do it?” The question makes him look at you, raising one eyebrow. “I mean, you always sound like you got it all figured out. While I just say the most random stuff because I don’t know who I am.”

You know you are the heritage left to you, the face of your father's company, a good student, smart. One of the few socialites that have never stepped a foot out of line, according to the magazines. But take all that and what’s left?

“I don't.” He says simply, “I’m just good at pretending, like you are.”

That makes you laugh. “Good to know we are both good at playing our roles.” You say, as a joke, because you are sure the two of you are beyond the acting now.

And It’s always funny to you how the masks the both of you put on fall completely when you are alone. That’s what it means to be friends, you had realized, and that’s what you decide to call your relationship for now. Friends, from a long time, that happened to be tied together for other reasons.

And Jaehyun is a friend that sometimes makes you feel like you deserve the love you crave.

“Hey. You are ____.” He says after a second, for good measure. “That's enough, you don't have to be anything else.”

“Is it enough for you?” You ask without really thinking.

He smiles, dimples showing and your heart grows warmer. “Yeah, and we can figure it out together. Who we are and all that.”

You share a smile, both staring forward at the view and shivering a little from the night wind.

“I’m sorry for getting you into these deep conversations.”

He laughs deeply at that, with his whole body. “It’s good, don’t worry. I want you to trust me, even if you won't let me get to know you.” And you do, you want to desperately trust him and let him in. ”Because you are scared I can't handle your daddy issues or something.”

A scoff mixed with laughter leaves your lips. It’s been a long time since you were able to joke about this with someone. “It’s mommy issues, please get it right.”

He turns to you with a silly smile on his lips. “Is it because she made you take those piano classes?” He jokes and you laugh before tilting your head.

“Wait, how did you know I played the piano?” That was ages ago, finally a hobby that you enjoyed amongst the numerous other classes your mother had enrolled you in. You played it for a long time before you stopped completely for whatever reason.

“You told me, when we had to introduce ourselves and talk about things we liked in german class.” He explains. “You said you liked it, even though your mother forced you to go.”

You turn to him now as it strikes you that Jung Jaehyun remembered you from his childhood the same way you remembered him. Not the same things, but still memories. The thought is so comforting that you can’t hold the way your cheeks move up in a smile.

“What about you?” You question. “What things did you say you liked?”

“Hmm, I don't really remember.” Is what he says with a shrug.

You two share a look, perhaps meaningful but maybe that's the wine making you feel on cloud 9 under his gaze.  “What do you like now?”

He chuckles as if your interest is amusing. “I like… music, getting coffee with friends. That kind of thing.”

“Not cars?” You joke, making him laugh. You decide then that you like making him do it.

“I mean, a little.” He replies playfully, and it’s very easy to be comfortable like this.

It’s good to know after all this time Jaehyun was like you, even if you felt alone in the world sometimes. That’s what a soulmate must be after all, not the missing piece to make you whole but someone that makes you realize exactly that you don't have to be.

“We should get coffee together sometime.” You offer after some time, a gentle smile being shared between you two in laziness, at the thought of soon having to return to the restaurant and popping out of the bubble you have started creating for yourself.

“We should.” He says, and the bubble stays afloat a little longer.

⋄

JULY 2019

It’s another charity Gala, with sparkly lights, champagne, fake smiles and a dress too tight. Everything is the way it always had been, except for you.

And Jaehyun, whose hand stays on your waist as he guides you through a slow song. He had wanted to dance, said he always thought it was nice when lovers did it in movies.

Lovers. The mere use of the word had made your heart somersault in your chest, but you kept it down. Instead, you move with him with soft smiles adorning both of your faces.

Your hand finds his cheeks. Nothing could describe the look you give him in the light but pure admiration. And you don’t care if anyone sees it,  you don’t care if it ends up in a magazine spread. Because even if everybody knew about it, this is yours.

The way he brings his hand on top of yours, and how his eyes match the exact look on yours. Every little detail about it makes you know that this right here belongs to the two of you and nothing can change it.

“Jaehyun?” Your voice is low, almost inaudible underneath the music and conversation echoing through the ballroom. “I don't want to be here anymore.”

His eyebrows raise at your confession, steps faltering for a second as he loses the rhythm “What? We can leave right now if you want.” He offers. “I came with my own car, so we can-“

Your soft laughter interrupts his words. “No, I don't mean right now.” You explain, swallowing around your next words. “I meant.. I don't want to keep playing a role, I want to go somewhere with you where no one knows us.”

A smile grows on his lips, one that tells you that he understands exactly what you mean. And you don’t have to guess anymore, there are no more maybes. You know.

“Okay, we can do that.”

He pulls you closer, dance now long forgotten as you just move in complete muscle memory.

“I want to find out.” You confess in a whisper. A secret between the two of you that no one else would ever know.  “I want to go somewhere with you and find out.”

You wonder if he already found the answer to it, to what love is. But you also don't need to know right now, because you will know when you have to. Either way you want to find out  and it's not for you to guess.

He smiles genuinely at you, with his dimples showing, like he always smiles at you.

You smile back, heart aching from something that can only be only be explained by years of shared stories, and in your mind, deeper connections that go beyond what everything and everyone inside this ballroom would understand.

You smile back, in the exact way you have always smiled at him.

⋄

APRIL 2020

A ray of sun peeks from the half closed curtains and set right above your eyes, getting you to wake up lazily and slowly. It takes you a while to come to it, the sheets on the bed just now starting to feel truly familiar with the warmth left on the bed, from someone that had probably gotten up just a little before from you.

You blink once and twice before your eyes are completely open, vision still unfocused but it slowly comes back as you stare at the bedside table. A lip balm is the first thing you see, then your phone and lastly a picture framed of you and Jaehyun hugging in front of the sunflower field at the Van Gogh museum. He’s laughing, at something said by the kind fellow tourist that had offered to take your picture, and you have the beginning of a smile on your own lips. One that you mimic perfectly now as you remember that day.

Your thoughts are suddenly interrupted by the door opening and Jaehyun walks in the bedroom, holding a bowl. His eyes are still drowsy and his hair a mess but you  think he looks right at home. Because he is.

“Morning, baby.” His voice is low and raspy, but enough to make you melt even more on the sheets.

“Good morning.” The smile settles fully on your lips now.

He sits on the bed next to you then, almost drowning inside his large t-shirt and hair plopping cutely when he tries moving even closer to place the bowl with sliced fruits on your lap. “We gotta add apples to the shopping list.” Is all he says and you nod while picking a slice of melon and chewing it leisurely as you bask on the hazy feeling of still being half asleep

Jaehyun stays by your side, head weirdly pressed to your chest, and asking silently for you to feed him apple slices every now and then with just his mouth opening.

Your mind wanders as you eat and then you’re having one of those moments where realization dawns on you finally. A silly small thing that makes you smile and your chest grow warm. “Jaehyun?” You call out softly, fighting back the bubble of happiness that forms on your chest because old habits are hard to die.

“Hmm?” He looks up at you, eyes blinking at you in the same way he always does, but this time it makes you want to cry a little bit.

You lean down, press a quick peck to his lips that make you both smile and then the words are out of your mouth.

“This is what love is.”

[draconic-ichor]

In the Steel Steeds Heart

Chapter 27: Lessons in House Beneviento

Warnings: strong language, sexual themes, hints of trauma

Summary: Juniper takes a visit to the Beneviento house for sewing lessons.

Feedback appreciated. 18+

“It’s not too late to cancel,” Heisenberg pointed out, almost hopeful, as he watched Juniper get ready.

“It is.” She insisted, combing her fingers through her hair.

“Nah, I have a phone right over here!” He strode over to it, “I can give her a quick call in no time flat.”

“Heis.” Juniper’s voice was a warning.

He seemed to deflate, shoulders sagging. “There’s no way to talk you out of it?” He pressed.

“Nope.” Juniper stuck firm, tying her curls back into a poofy ponytail.

It didn’t stop him from trying. He badgered her the whole way through the village, ever worried he wouldn’t be with her. Juniper kept firm, knowing she needed to learn this. His constant pestering didn’t cease until they were at the dilapidated wood bridges. Juniper gulped as she started across. The closer they got to the far side the more the mists thickened. By the time her boots made contact with solid ground again the air was heavy with it.

The path was narrow with overgrown hedges, small garden statues covered in ivys here and there.

Something drew Juniper’s attention. She paused as Heisenberg kept walking, turning to squint for better visibility.

A human stood in the mist, almost obscured from view. As Juniper came closer she could make out everything but the face.

It was a woman, about Juniper’s height and sporting the same ebony curls, but the other woman's hair was mostly tied back into a messy bun.

Juniper sucked in a breath, even without a face the woman pulled at a deeply familiar string of her heart.

The woman’s featureless face looked down, her light almond hands bunched into her floral skirt. She almost made a weeping sound.

“My dear….my angel.” The woman cried softly, “I've missed you.”

Juniper felt frozen, a tear running down her cheek. She wanted desperately to remember her face, her smell…anything.

“I’m sorry.” Juniper’s voice wavered.

She suddenly felt a strong hand on her shoulder, she turned enough to see Heisenberg chin almost on her shoulder.

“They aren’t real, buttercup.” He soothed, whispering into her ear, “Only hallucinations.”

Juniper tried to nod, blinking away more moisture from threatening her eyes.

She shook to clear her head a bit, the other woman fading.

Heisenberg saw his own share of ghosts among the mists, though he did his best to ignore them.

A sturdy outline of a man stepped forward down a fork in the path.

“Du bist so groß geworden, mein Kleiner.” The man smiled.

Heisenberg grimaced. He looked away, ignoring the shadow. It wasn’t who it pretended to be, it was just a cruel twist of his heart.

He led Juniper ever forward through the mists. Eventually their path opened onto a clearing. A mound of stones and flowers occupied the center, while a door stood on the opposite side’s rock wall.

“It looks like a grave…” Juniper frowned, seeing the dolls stacked up around the large stone.

“It is.” Heisenberg trudged forward, around the delicate stones and blooming yellow flowers.

Juniper read the stone:

Claudia

Juniper gulped, picking up her pace to rejoin Heisenberg. They went through the small door, following a cave path to an elevator. It looked out of place but was still alive with electricity.

Boarding it, Juniper looked around. This elevator was much more lavish and comfortable then the ones in the factory, more suited for recreational use.

Leaving the elevator and darkness of the caverns, Juniper gasped in awe.

“It’s beautiful!” She exclaimed.

Before them the old estate sat on a hill surrounded with blooming yellow flowers. A large waterfall thundered behind it, it’s mist coating the valley.

“Mhm.” Heisenberg agreed almost dismissively. His sour mood worsened with every step towards the estate, knowing every boot length was that much closer to not turning back.

Juniper stepped up onto the wooden porch, closing the distance to the heavy door. Before she reached for the knocker she glanced back to see Heisenberg did not step onto the porch himself, instead grimacing at the edge like an old dog.

Juniper turned back to the door, lifting the heavy knocker, drumming it a few times. Almost instantly Donna answered, pushing open the door, Angie close behind. They looked happy to see her, Juniper worried she had kept them waiting.

“Hello!” Angie exclaimed, “We’re so happy you came!”

“Hello.”Juniper smiled.

The sound of a throat clearing drew their attention. The three turned to look at Heisenberg.

“Return my girl in one piece.” Heisenberg spoke with his lips a thin line.

“We will.” Angie nodded.

“And no turning her into a fucking doll or some shit.” His voice was a steely warning.

“We know that!” Angie snapped.

He gave a cold look at the doll, “I wasn’t talkin’ to you.” His pale eyes shifted upwards, “Donna I’m serious, take care of her…she means an awful lot to me.”

Donna gave a slow nod before raising a single finger to her chest. She made a little ‘x’ motion over her heart.

Heisenberg nodded back in understanding, mimicking the gesture, “Cross my heart.”

Juniper watched them closely, never seeing him act in such a way with another person before. The small interaction was almost childlike.

Whatever weight that gesture held seemed to be enough for Heisenberg. He tipped his hat to the three before turning back and heading into the mists.

They watched him disappear until Angie started hopping. Her tiny feet made a tapping sound as she happily spoke, “Come on, come on!”

Donna pulled open the thick wooden doors, a warm glow cascading over the porch from within.

Juniper walked behind her as Angie trailed closely. The door seemed to close on its own after they all entered.

“We made cookies!” Angie exclaimed.

“Oh, thank you.” Juniper stammered, being led into the main hall. The estate house was very cozy inside, with ornate woodwork and flowery designs on the rugs.

The air held the smell of spices and herbs, a heavy hanging of dust as well but Juniper was used to far worse.

Where Lady Dimitrescu’s home was a lavish palace, a place of showy status-ship; and Heisenberg’s factory was raw and hazardous, a cesspool of secrecy and honed functionality. Donna’s home was neither.

It was smaller but looked to be well lived in and even held remnants of a loving family. Juniper had known this house once belonged to Donna’s parents but was very unprepared for it to still hold the shadows of normality to it. Certain things looked to be completely untouched since the time of the previous owners, left to sit as a time capsule to happier days.

Juniper was led into a parlor of sorts, a heavy table set with linens and dying flowers was in the middle. A smaller sitting room lay off to the side. The whole place was covered in porcelain dolls. Not surprising, considering Donna was called the Doll-maker, but Juniper thought she saw one more out of the corner of her eye. She stifled a shiver, wondering if Angie wasn’t the only sentient one.

“Come sit.” Angie instructed, “We’ll get the tea.”

She did as she was told, sitting and waiting as the pair went out the far door.

The manor was eerily quiet, Juniper hadn’t realized how used she was to the constant hum of machinery. It almost made her anxiety thicken.

Was this what Heisenberg felt like whenever he was away?

She thought. He’d been living in the sounds much, much longer then she had.

The sound of an elevator piqued her interest, a small sliver of something familiar.

They returned rather quickly, Donna holding a tea tray and Angie pushing the door open for her. Donna set the tray down, busing herself with preparing three cups.

“Donna makes her own tea!” Angie told Juniper, hopping up in a chair.

“Oh?”

“Yea! She’s really good at it.” The doll gushed proudly.

Donna set a porcelain teacup in front of Juniper, offering her a bowl of sugar cubes.

“Oh, thank you.” She smiled, putting two into her tea before stirring it.

She brought it to her lips almost tentatively, the liquid dancing over her tongue. It was nothing like the prepackaged stuff Heisenberg kept around, no this was fragrant with floral notes and hints of herbs. Juniper took a deeper gulp, smiling.

Donna offered her a plate of cookies neatly stacked.

The cookies were a type of butter cookie, small and crisp with an aftertaste of vanilla. Juniper took a big bite.

“We made them from scratch!” Angie announced proudly. She happily picked up a cookie and began to dip it profusely into a cup of tea. She cackled as tea splashed out onto the lace tablecloth.

Donna seemed not to notice, lifting her cup up. She carefully moved the veil eough to take a sip.

After they enjoyed their tea and cookies, Angie telling Juniper so many random things during, they started to head towards Donna workspace.

They took another elevator, the one Juniper had heard earlier, down to the basement. They led her down a hallway lined with white painted doors before opening one.

The room had dirt floors and a heavier curtain of dust. The walls were lined with heaving shelving, filled with all assortment of fabrics and sewing supplies.

Angie excitedly showed Juniper the rarer fabrics, things the Duke had brought from far off places, as Donna cleaned off the table in the center of the room

The three sat down with a little pile of supplies before each.

Donna nodded, picking up a needle and threading it easily.

It took a while for the woman to find her voice, and when she did it was breathy and strained. Juniper thought it must’ve been a long while since it was used in any stretch.

Donna frequently forgot the proper words for items or techniques, having to stop for a moment to think how to explain things. Juniper was ever patient, just thankful the woman was taking the time to teach her at all.

When she did get going, Donna’s fingers were nimble and quick, making even intricate stitching look simple. She could put a sewing machine to shame.

Juniper tried to keep up, showing her results. It was lopsided and messy, earning a concerned little “Oh!” From Donna. It sent Angie into a fit of giggles.

“Take your time.” The woman instructed, “Make every stitch the same size.”

Juniper nodded, trying again.

“Not like that silly!” Angie pointed to the cloth, “Tinier! Make them cute and tiny.”

“Ok.” Juniper smiled at the doll’s enthusiasm.

“Practice stitching is im-important.” Donna nodded, “Mother made me sew for hours on spare fab-ric.”

“How do you make the clothing for the dolls?” Juniper asked, thinking clothes that size could easily be augmented to fit a baby.

“Are you making dolls?” Angie asked excitedly.

“W-well…” she thought, almost sweating, “I may, there’s not much to do around the factory you know.” She lied.

“How do you deal with living in that grimy old factory?” Angie asked.

“I've gotten used to it.” Juniper shrugged, “Its home now.”

“But what about Heisenberg?” The doll pressed, “He’s so mean!”

“Oh he’s not all bad.” Juniper looked at her hands, cheeks gaining a rosy blush, “He’s just a bit rough around the edges.”

“And loud!”

“He is rather loud.” Juniper agreed, giggling.

“But Donna is super good at making cute outfits!” Angie got back on topic.

Donna nodded, standing to look on the shelves behind her. She pulled a handmade book free, brushing dust or before setting it on the table.

“These are my patterns for the common clothes I make for them.” She opened the book.

Juniper looked it over, seeing many small measurements around the sketches. It reminded her of the schematics Heisenberg made of his Soldats.

She asked little questions here or there. Mostly about how Donna found the correct sizes and how to properly measure an object to make clothing for it.

She soaked everything the quieter woman said like a dry sponge. Even pulling out a sketchbook to make notes. Donna and Angie loved to have someone care so much after so many years of solitude.

~

Eventually Juniper’s eyes caught the clock overhead. She gasped, “Is it that late already?”

“Time flies when you’re having fun?” Angie laughed.

They cleaned up her workspace before heading back up into the estate.

Donna sent Juniper home with a better stocked sewing kit, easy patterns to practice with, a bag of scrap fabric, and a container of cookies for Heisenberg.

“Thank you for taking the time today.” Juniper’s voice was genuine.

“Oh it was fun!” Angie gushed, “Come back soon, ok!”

Juniper nodded, taking the bag thankfully from Donna. It was very sweet for her to provide so many spare materials.

Heisenberg was already waiting on the end of the porch, looking irritated as he smoked the last bit of a cigar.

He dropped it, tamping it out with the end of his boot before he stepped towards the three.

“You’re late.” Heisenberg growled when he was close to Juniper.

“And you didn’t send the Lycans?” She smiled playfully.

He gave a huff.

Juniper handed him the bag, he took it questionably. “What’s all this?” He asked.

“Sewing supplies for me and something for you.” Juniper answered.

Heisenberg glanced into the bag, making a little sound of surprise when he saw the parcel of cookies. He quickly looked up to Donna and Angie, almost embarrassed.

“Thank you!” He stammered, cheeks a bit rosey.

Donna nodded happily, waving them goodbye.

Juniper smiled, taking Heisenberg’s free hand and started the walk back to the factory.

“Not used to gifts, are you?” She giggled, seeing how flustered he was at the simple gesture.

He made a grumbling sound, not entertaining her with a real answer.

[writer-room]

Siblings: Chapter Five

AO3

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

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

Siblings hadn’t even crossed Cass’s mind until she’d fled the League of Assassins.

She had no reason to think of them, they were never brought up. That’s just how it was. She was always too busy training to ever think about questions or focus on different matters.

It wasn’t until she left, leaning against a dumpster at the ripe old age of ten, did the thought finally pop into her head.

She hadn’t been the only kid in that alley, a notable few others cowering by themselves. Many of the kids she’d met among her travels, homeless and scared like her, had a sort of unspoken rule. Helping those when needed, then parting without a word.

So she had been curious about three kids sticking together. They’d been very similar in appearance, and it didn’t take long for her to deduce that they were related. Three brothers. The eldest a few years older than her, the middle one or two younger, and the youngest couldn’t be more than seven. 

They had always been seen together, and she’d spent the time waiting out the night by that dumpster studying them.

They had been kind, pressing together for warmth and protection, keeping the youngest in between them. They were all different, and she found that the few other siblings she’d run across shared traits. If one sibling was brash, the other was sweet. If one was quiet, the other was loud. If one was a fighter, the other was a talker.

She never learned their names, never gave anything more than a nod to them as she passed them by.

Their situation was awful, but they had each other. They had someone to keep them company, to protect and be protected. A family who cared about them.

She envied them.

“Alright, sound off, who’s still conscious?”

A round of groans answered Bruce’s inquiry.

Each and every one of the Bats, save for Cullen and Barbara of course, were strewn out among the alley and roof of one of Gotham’s more worn-down buildings. It was a little comical, seeing the vigilantes of Gotham looking like jelly.

Jason and Harper were slumped on a second-floor balcony, hanging off the railing. Dick, Tim and Duke were strewn about on the pavement inside the alley, the only one who appeared to be in a moderately comfortable position was Duke, who was laying on his back and staring up at the sky. Steph was laying across the roof, her head and arms hanging over limply. Damian was flopped on top of what looked similar to a discarded arbor, cape draped across his face.

Cass, meanwhile, was perching on one of the windowsills, eyes flicking between each sibling. Bruce was on the roof next to Steph, frowning. Though, he always looked like he was frowning when on patrol.

“I take it that means nobody requires immediate medical attention?” Bruce tried weakly.

“I’m never doing that again,” Duke complained. “I can’t believe I let you guys talk me into trying a night patrol. Ivy is so much nicer in the daytime, what the hell.”

“Welcome to the night life,” Jason grumbled, raising his head slightly. “Blame Dick for the family bonding.”

“Shut up,” Dick groaned, muffled due to his face pressed sideways against the ground.

“You deserve this,” Barbara crackled over the comms.

“Everybody is fine, then?” Bruce asked again. “Nobody got infected with anything? Seeds planted in skin?”

“Ivy can plant seeds into skin?” Duke yelped, sitting bolt upright.

“She only did that, like, twice.” Steph assured, waving a hand without even moving her head. “I’m free of the kissing disease, though.”

“Same,” Harper raised a hand.

Choruses of similar affirmatives rose up among the others, save for Tim, who hadn’t moved from his spot. Duke, who was closest to him, noticed.

“Tim?” He asked. “You alright?”

Heads shot up, like the exhaustion from earlier never existed. Cass had sprung off her windowsill and landed next to Tim before Duke was even scrambling over.

She peered over Tim for a moment, poking his side and lifting his head up. He looked peaceful. Not still enough to be someone who was knocked unconscious. No heavy bleeding, either.

“Asleep,” She informed, setting his head back on the ground. 

Everyone immediately relaxed, slumping back to their original positions.

“Of course he’s asleep,” Damian muttered from beneath his cape. “He can never let himself rest at reasonable times now, can he?”

“None of you have reasonable sleeping schedules,” Barbara pointed out.

“I’ve got him,” Bruce sighed, sliding down off the roof and landing next to Tim. Cass stepped aside as he scooped up the teen, keeping a firm hold on him like he’d slip between his fingers. “Everyone get up, we’re heading back.”

Pained groans answered him a second time.

“You guys can head back,” Jason said, gripping the railing and forcing himself to stand upright. “I, however, have a wonderful safe house waiting for me.”

“Weakling,” Harper muttered, getting a sharp jab from Jason in response.

Bruce frowned slightly, in such a subtle movement that only those who’d been stuck with his brooding for years would notice it. Cass noticed, or rather, noticed how his stance shifted ever so slightly. She couldn’t quite remember the word for it...longing restraint? Something like that, she’d need to ask Dick later, he was better with words.

Cass slipped away from Bruce, springing onto the windowsills and landing on the thin railing of the balcony with only a minor falter. Jason jumped a bit when she landed, to which she grinned underneath her mask.

“Big brother,” She said, crouched on the railing. “Go home?”

Jason watched her for a moment, and she could tell he was glaring at her from under his helmet. Resisting, she thinks that's the word.

“Don’t do this to me.” Jason near-begged, voice wavering slightly. Fighting Cass on anything, physical or not, was a losing battle. They knew this, and they knew that she knew it, too.

“Big brother,” Cass said in a singsong tone, laying her head on the railing right in front of Jason. She could see Harper not even bothering to hide her malicious smile.

“Cass, please,”

“Names,” Damian muffled.

“Alfred make cookies,” Cass continued, poking at Jason. “I help steal?”

That was untrue, you never stole things from Alfred. Either he let you have them or you never found it. Even still, Jason was never one to turn down the opportunity for petty crimes.

“C’mon, Jay,” Harper added, still grinning. “You really want to disappoint your sister?”

“Names,” Damian reminded again.

“...I hate this family.” Jason groaned, hanging his head over the railing as Cass scooted back, snickering.

“And we got Hood on board!” Steph gave a weak cheer.

Cass turned her head back to the alleyway below, smiling proudly. Bruce’s shoulders slumped and he shook his head. Relief, she thinks. She pretended not to notice him sending her a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it expression of gratitude.

“Grab whoever has trouble walking, we’re taking the roofs.” Bruce informed, slinging Tim over his shoulder as he began scaling the building again. “Orphan, you're on herding duty. Don’t let anyone fall behind.”

Cass saluted cheerfully, leaping off the railing and onto a third-floor balcony, then onto the flat roof. She perched on the edge of the roof, eyes flickering over her siblings as they complained and pulled themselves upright.

It was during times like this, when they still felt the need to double-check with each other as they went back on the move, that she watched the clan, watched the roles they held for each other.

Duke offered a hand to Dick, who fumbled for a moment before taking it and getting hoisted to his feet. He swayed for a moment before reassuring Duke he was fine, striding towards where Damian had collapsed and grabbing him by the cape, dragging it off his annoyed face as he was lifted like a cat. Steph rolled to the side as Bruce clambered onto the roof. She attempted to stand on shaky legs, to which Bruce held out an arm for her to steady herself on. Harper and Jason were already climbing onto the roof, Harper pausing every few moments to glance back at Jason and tug him up faster.

Dick was attempting to carry Damian up the roof, but the kid protested loudly to that and instead scampered up himself. Duke frowned but climbed up after them, occasionally getting pulled up by Dick, who was looking up every few seconds to make sure Damian wouldn’t fall off.

Cass wasn’t quite sure where she fit, in all of that. In the lending of helping hands, of receiving the outstretched hands, or in pretending she didn’t need either.

Granted, nobody really fit, she relented as the siblings gathered into a huddled group on the roof a few meters away. Steph was a melting pot, Barbara and the Row’s didn’t technically live anywhere near the family, and Jason couldn’t decide if he’d gun down Scarecrow for them or abandon everyone in the middle of the night.

Bruce was hard to categorize, too. Cass had seen parents on the streets, holding their young child close with wary, tired eyes. Bruce had that, too. Weary beyond belief with a caution to anything getting too close. But he was far from beaten down yet, and there were never days when his kids couldn’t take care of themselves without him. She figured his odd placement was likely a mix of having so many confusing and different children on top of not understanding how emotions worked.

But Cass wasn’t sure where she’d be. She wasn’t as overprotective as someone like Jason or Barbara, so she placed herself closer to whatever side Steph, Duke, Tim or the Row’s were on. But she didn’t talk all that often, and her plans consisted of walking in and expecting it to work out or continuously pestering until her victim gave in. Duke and the Row’s valued logic, and Steph was chatty as ever, Tim was a strange mesh between them. She was certainly more cheerful than others in her family, but Dick and Duke were better at keeping the morale high than she was. And the only times she’s ever really upset is when the others are upset, so there hasn’t ever really been a situation where they got defensive on her behalf exclusively. That crossed out her being anywhere near Damian’s side.

“Orphan? You still with us?”

Cass jerked, blinking as she shook her head to clear it. The others were clustered a bit further than where they had been before, in the process of leaving before they noticed Cass wasn’t following. And she had been staring the whole time.

Cass gave a quick thumbs up, getting out of her crouched position, muscles protesting for a brief moment due to not moving in the slightest for the last few minutes. She popped up next to her family, reassuring them once more with a small nod that she was alright.

Steph bumped her shoulder as the others began to move across the roofs, tilting her head ever so slightly in her subtlest possible way of asking you okay?

‘Fine,’ Cass signed with her hands, bumping her back. ‘Just thinking.’

Steph nodded, having all the information she needed before turning back to hurry in a jog alongside the rest of the Bats.

“Last one to the Manor doesn’t get any of the cookies me and Cass are stealing!” Jason hollered over his shoulder, off like a shot before he even finished his sentence.

“Names!”

Nobody paid attention to Damian as they all cried their protests. Cass laughed and darted after Jason, keeping stride with him as the others picked up speed. Aside from Bruce, who only shook his head and continued along at his regular run, trying not to jostle Tim. Damian tried to act as civil as his father, scoffing at the others trying to sabotage each other to be the first to arrive back. But he gave up after Tim jolted, barely awake as he blinked his eyes and mumbled something about saving some for him. Damian was off like a shot, yelling something about how Tim would get no such thing. Despite the fact Tim was still far too exhausted to do anything more than weakly complain.

Cass sprung onto one of the lamp posts by the road, crouching as the others raced on by, moving with grace for only a moment before they or someone else body slammed into another to try and gain some distance. 

She supposed it didn’t matter much which category she was in. Depending on who was deciding it, she could be on any of their sides. Or maybe none at all. She had her own side, she supposed.

She stifled a laugh as she saw Jason kick over Duke before immediately having Dick pounced on his back in retribution.

They were her siblings, she decided. They were old and young, and they were family, and that was all she really needed to know.

[lykegenia]

Trust, But Verify

Convinced that Unit Bravo isn't everything they seem to be, Detective Leah Kingston decides to return to the warehouse that she knows plays some part in the mystery of Wayhaven's first murder in years, this time with Tina as backup. But sometimes, what is said on patrol doesn't stay on patrol, which isn't great when the subject of conversation is a certain new arrival with a dazzling smile and warm brown eyes.

Read on AO3

--

The air in the office holds a studied silence, from the members of Unit Bravo who have arranged themselves around the room like they’re on a photoshoot, and from me ignoring them so I can finish updating the board with information about the case. There’s precious little to go on so far. Adam called it a waste of time, but working as a teammeans everybody needs to be on the same page, and now I can feel a certain amount of spite creeping into the thoroughness of my notes.

I can’t afford to let it. Getting bull-headed means things get missed.

“What information can you give me about the other victims?” I ask.

“Nothing that will help us here.”

Nate passes a guilty glance between me and his glowering leader, but all it does is get me even angrier. Folding my arms, I turn to Adam, temper finally frayed enough to let my professional veneer slip.

“Did my mother send you to sabotage my case?” I demand. I shouldn’t, but today has not been a good day.

Adam glares. Somehow, the silence in the room deepens.

“I’m only asking because so far you seem to be trying your hardest to seem incompetent and uncaring about the fact that a woman has been murdered. If you can’t show even basic respect for that then you can get the hell out of my office and not come back.”

“Detective…”

“Are you here to help or not?” I’ve dealt with Saturday night drunks and middle managers angry at getting parking tickets – hell, I’ve had to face the mayor’s bluster more than once – and though Adam looks like he knows more ways to break someone’s bones than any of those guys, I’m willing to bet he’s on a much shorter leash.

Finally, the muscles working in that square jaw unclench just enough for him to loose a strained breath through his teeth. “We’re at your disposal.”

“Glad to hear it.” My shoulders relax a little. “The better we work together, the faster we’ll solve this, and unfortunately all the legwork has to come first.”

Nate steps forward, visibly relieved that we haven’t come to blows. “What do you want us to do?”

“We need to trace the victim’s last steps,” I say. Coming up with a plan gives me something to focus on. “Bank records, phone records, CCTV. If we can find out where and when she met the killer, hopefully we can follow the thread back to them. Someone should ask Verda if there’s any way to track down the equipment the killer needed for the transfusion, too,” I add.

“Anything else?” Mason drawls from his corner. He’s started on another cigarette.

“Nate very kindly said you’d all go and check out the Farris warehouse later. We think it might be the murder site.” I don’t miss the look Adam shoots across the room, but it’s not important. “Be careful when you do, when I was there yesterday I ran into some unsavoury characters.”

“Really?” Felix asks, grinning. “If we see them I’m sure we could take them.”

Nate rolls his eyes and Adam grinds his teeth again, and neither of them are doing anything to soothe the off vibes I’ve been getting all morning.

“Glad to hear it,” I reply, turning to grab my coat off the peg. “While you’re on that, there’s something else I want to chase up.”

“What something else?” Adam asks, his eyes narrowing as if he can hear the uneasy tick of my pulse.

I shrug, already half out the door. “I’ll let you know if it pans out.”

“One of us should go with you.”

“Thanks for the offer, but Tina and I will be fine – Tina! Fieldtrip!”

She looks up from the papers on her desk and gestures to the steaming mug in her hand. “But I just –”

“Now. We can stop off at Haley’s later.”

There’s a pause as she glances behind me, assessing, no doubt lining up a bunch of questions to ask me as soon as we’re out of earshot. “Sure thing, Detective.” She pulls on coat and scarf and sidles closer. “Day one and the power’s already gone to your head, I see.”

I stifle a smile and turn back to Unit Bravo, who are all leaning around the door of my office in various attitudes of surprise. “I almost forgot, while I’m out I’d be grateful if you could add the information on the other victims to the board. It should help.”

“We’ll see to it,” Nate promises when his colleague only flexes his biceps in response.

“I appreciate it.”

I’m almost to the door when I catch Felix sigh and mutter I don’t think she likes us very much, but I straighten my shoulders and step into the already darkening winter day, not allowing the prickle of guilt to take hold. They’re not here for me to like them, they’re here for a job – and I need to figure out what that job really is.

--

Tina shoots me a dubious look as I pull up outside the Farris warehouse and cut the engine. There’s still some light left, though the thick growth of trees crowds most of it out, and aside from a few harsh alarm calls from birds flitting between the trunks, the place is lifeless. Silent. The moon watches us from just above the top branches, hanging in the sky like a spider in the corner of its web.

“You changed your mind about letting Unit Boyband have this one?” she asks.

I reach behind me for my flashlight and check the safety on my gun is locked before kicking open the door. “There’s something not adding up about them, and I want to know what it is. Nate practically contorted himself trying to think of reasons for me to stay away.”

“And so here we are.” She sighs and follows. “Just like the good old days. As your friend, I think you’re being a bit paranoid.”

“Shady government agencies bring that out in me.”

“Just as long as you’re not expecting to split up in there.”

I toss her a grin. “Not even for a Scooby Snack?” I chuckle at her flat look. “Don’t worry, after those guys put that dent in Nessie last night, I’m not taking chances.”

With a wary look around, she unholsters her own gun and takes position on my left. “That dent looks like it was made with a sledgehammer.”

“Yup.”

We fall silent as we cross the threshold, crumbs of rubble cracking under our boots. The wind blows in from behind us, rustling the ivy reclaiming the walls, distorting sound, but unless someone is keeping very still, there’s nobody else here.

“Sooooo… it’s ‘Nate’ is it?” Tina ventures as we climb the stairs to the first floor. The artistic endeavours of Wayhaven’s teenagers scroll the walls, the empty cans and bottles from last summer’s illicit parties still scattered in the far corners.

“That’s what he asked me to call him,” I reply carefully. “It’s what the rest of them call him too.”

“Uh-huh.” She peers down at something. “Cigarette butt.”

“Recent?” I catch a shadow to my left, but when I chase it with my flashlight, it turns out just to be pigeons again, scattering for some reason of their own.

“There’s still ash on it, so I’d say so.”

“Bag it.”

While she kneels and starts the usual procedure for getting evidence into one of the bags we both carry with us, I pace the rest of the floor, peering around rusted heavy machinery and into the dustier corners in case of footprints. With so many people passing through, though, it’s unlikely we’ll find enough to connect anything to the murder – at least not anything that would stick in court.

“You have seen him eyeing you up though, right?”

“What?” I glance over, startled by the suddenness of Tina’s voice. “Who?”

Her tut would have made any disapproving grandma proud. “Nate.”

“Tina, I met him this morning.” One last glance around. “This floor’s clear.”

“So?”

“So when has he even had an opportunity to ‘eye me up’?”

“Oh, that’s right,” she sing-songs, “you were too busy doing your best to make the grumpy one quake in his combat boots, but I see everything. His mouth was hanging open and everything. And that was after your cosy little trip down to the morgue. I’m telling you, babe, you have a shot.”

We go one at a time down the stairs, which means she can’t see me roll my eyes, but as we turn to take our first proper look at the ground floor, the idea wiggles in to distract my better judgement. Nate has certainly made a better first impression than most of his team, but that’s not exactly hard, and his face looks like one that’s used to smiling, to smoothing ruffled feathers. If I maybe noticed the warmth of his hand when I shook it earlier, or caught the faint scent of whatever aftershave he uses when we were walking down to see Verda, then it’s still not something to lose my head over. It’s not something that matters.

“As your friend, I’m duty-bound to say that I think you’re delusional,” I say, deliberately light.

“Over here.”

Tina’s flashlight rounds on the transient’s camp I found yesterday, a loose pile of tattered blankets and a few rusted oil drums converted into fire barrels, only now with more light, there seems to be little evidence of recent occupation. No trash, no scuff marks beyond what could be explained by the passage of my own feet and the strangers who ran into me, and no odour of an unwashed body.

And yet…

Still crouched, I glance at the walls, try to imagine them blurred as I hold up my phone screen with the photos copied from Janet Greenland’s. She had known she was going to die, with enough advance warning to try and leave some kind of message, and then hidden them where her killer would be unlikely to look.

Tina breaks the concentrated silence. “What’s so delusional about someone finding you attractive?” It helps, the distraction from the grisly reason we’re here.

“Nothing in particular,” I reply. “People have wanted to sleep with me before. It’s just not something that would work.”

“Why not?”

I stand and walk slowly, still with my phone up in front of me. “One, this is a temporary assignment. Once we catch the killer, Unit Bravo will be whisked away to somewhere far more exotic than Wayhaven with far more interesting people.” I stop. “Two, he’s technically a colleague, which is never something that ends well. And three…”

The last of Janet Greenland’s photos line up with the view ahead of me, minus the difference in our height.

“Three?” Tina presses.

“I’m not interested.” It’s a ready answer, but she scoffs all the same.

“Oh come on, you mean you don’t think he’s sexy as hell?”

From somewhere behind us, there’s a loud crash as a piece of masonry collapses. We wheel, ready for something to come at us, but after a long moment, nothing else moves. Probably a rat, or a piece of the ceiling that was ready to go anyway. Even so, Tina keeps her back to mine as I return to my snooping.

“That’s not a no,” she wheedles after a few more minutes of silence.

“He’s –” The right description eludes me for a moment. “He’s good-looking. He seems nice, for what it’s worth. But that doesn’t mean he’d stay, and it doesn’t mean he’d be interested in anything… beyond casual. I have more worthwhile uses for my time than trying to guess a stranger’s motives for noticing me.” The bitterness isn’t something I meant to slip out, but thankfully there’s no comment on it. Tina knows enough about the fiasco with Bobby to leave that particular sleeping Rottweiler lie.

Besides, I’ve found where Janet stumbled into the warehouse – or tried to get out. By one of the broken windows some of the stones have tumbled and turned the mossy sides underneath, and a few threads of material are snagged on the jagged edge of the glass that are the same colour as the jacket she was wearing. There’s just enough light left to photograph it, but without any evidence of the killer or any kind of struggle, there isn’t much else to be done. Wayhaven doesn’t have the resources to dust an entire warehouse for prints.

“I remember being told at the academy that we should try to collect all the evidence we can,” Tina says, when I make no move to reach for a bag.

“That’s what I’m doing,” I reply. “Sometimes it doesn’t all look the same, that’s all.”

She eyes me with a frown, though the corner of her mouth is fighting a smile. “What did I tell you? Paranoid.”

--

Sitting in the Facility cafeteria barely a week later, a plate of unappetising mince and mashed potato in front of me, it’s hard to believe how much a life can change. Hunting for petty clues, looking through bank records and phone calls as if any of it would have turned up anything useful – not even the vindication of knowing I was right about my mother’s team does much to lessen the lurch the world has taken since learning that the man I was hunting is not only a vampire, but that he’s hunting me, too. The thought puts me off eating. Or maybe it’s the tests, or just that the food itself isn’t very good.

I’m in the middle of drawing a passable mixed media landscape with my fork when a shadow falls across my plate. Nate smiles at me, genuine if somewhat nervous, one hand holding a mug of tea and the other on the back of the chair opposite mine.

“May I sit?” he asks.

I’ve barely seen him since the first night I was here, between all the debriefings and the sessions with the scientists, and even those brief glimpses have been accidental, moments of stumbling into each other in the corridors of Unit Bravo’s section of the Facility. To have him seek me out, in a place that reeks of leftovers, stirs an unfamiliar flutter behind my ribs that turns into a smile to answer his.

“Please do.” I gesture, and his smile grows wider, and I cast about for something that will avoid me floundering in awkward silence. “I didn’t think I’d see you here – not because you don’t need to eat!” I add hastily. “The smell of stale coffee is almost too much for me with just human senses.”

He doesn’t seem too offended, and just shrugs. “I like the ambience. People here are just being people, no matter what species.” As he speaks his eyes cast over the nearly empty room, and the pockets of agents and supernaturals at other tables buried in conversation. A person could visit a thousand parallel universes and a cafeteria would look the same in every one.

“The more things change…” I mutter, following the line of his gaze.

A smile touches his lips. “You have no idea.”

I really don’t. Not compared with someone who’s lived so long and seen so much. In the pause that follows, I turn my attention back to my plate, and the interrupted tree I was trying to capture in the foreground with an overcooked slice of carrot.

“You’re quite the artist – I mean it!” he adds, holding up his hands at the sharp glance I throw his way.

“This is the part where you say you met some famous painter or other, isn’t it?” I grumble, quirking an eyebrow at him.

“Van Gogh did sell me a painting once – not one of his own, I’m afraid.”

If I didn’t know better, I’d say the statement was meant to impress me, and that the sip he takes of his tea is more to hide a smirk than because he’s thirsty. Still, his eyes grow serious as he taps the mug back on the table, and the measured way he looks me over makes me want to twist my fingers in my lap.

“What?”

“You seem to be handling the revelation of all this rather well,” he replies, muted, with a flicker of a softer smile. “We should have trusted you with it sooner.”

For a moment I don’t answer, both startled by the admission and caught up in an echo of the resentment that’s characterised so much of my time with Unit Bravo so far. It’s not a comfortable feeling, not now I know the reason behind the secrecy, but the morning after my second visit to the warehouse is still fresh in my mind, Adam’s flat ‘no’ when I asked if they’d found anything, and the way Nate glared at the floor, arms folded and shaking his head in tacit disagreement as the others waited for my reaction, as if they knew I wouldn’t believe them.

“I’ll admit, ‘new co-workers are secretly vampires hunting down a vampire serial killer who’s picked me as his next target’ wouldn’t have been my first guess for what was going on,” I try with a shrug. “I assume it’s not something everyone responds well to.”

“Most people who find out don’t have to deal with the serial killer part.”

Sometimes, in the face of such absurdity, you just have to laugh. Nate seems pleased that I haven’t run screaming, amusement warming the sympathetic way his gaze lingers.

“Actually, I wanted to thank you,” I say, after another moment of silence.

“For what?”

I shrug. “For wanting to tell me – trying to tell me, even though you had orders. Not everyone would do that.” My mother springs to mind as a prime example.

“It was clear you were going to find out anyway. You’re pretty incredible that way.” His gaze on mine is heavy, soft and intense but tinged with regret as well, and he looks away. “But after you went to the warehouse, it was also clear you didn’t trust us. It’s not a great combination for trying to keep someone safe.”

“How did you know I was at the warehouse?”

“I, uh…” He clears his throat, not meeting my eye. “I followed you. One of us had to, just in case Murphy came back.”

He seems… embarrassed more than anything, as if following me was somehow something more shameful than lying to my face, and it’s not what I expect. And then I remember my conversation with Tina while we hunted through the ruined building. Damn. My fork sets against the edge of my plate with a faint clink.

“You were in the warehouse – when I was in the warehouse,” I check, just in case there’s no real reason for the sudden flood of heat into my face.

“I was.”

“And you heard everything me and Tina were saying with your hypersenses, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t exactly need –” He stops, smiles an apology. “Yes, I heard everything.”

I roll my lips together, chasing something to say. My fingertips drum on the table. “There’s no chance you could just… forget all of that, is there?”

And now the smile curls into something smoother, sleek like a cat. And guess who’s the canary.

“I would rather not.” He purrs it, and my insides squirm. “But since we’re on the subject of… things you said, I feel the same way. About matters of the heart. They’re too precious to be treated casually.”

I stare. There’s more in the words than I really want to acknowledge, certainly more than I can respond to in the middle of a public place full of creatures I thought were myths for most of my life. His brown eyes search my face, patient, until I can’t stand it anymore and drop my gaze to the table, and he covers by taking another sip of his tea.

“That’s an elegant way to put it,” I manage, after what feels like an eternity. He’ll still be leaving once we’ve caught Murphy, and now that we’ve got a solid set of leads on him, that won’t be long at all.

“I hoped you would think so.”

“It must be hard to have any kind of relationship with… all of this.” I wave my hand around the room. “The secrecy and the travelling, I mean.”

His head tilts, the smile returns. “You don’t think it’s the vampire thing that would put people off?”

“No.” I don’t miss the way his mouth twitches upwards at that. “Vampires have become fashionable in the last few years, so I hear. Even if you don’t sparkle.”

“I’d hope my wit does, at least.”

I can’t help it, I break into a laugh at that. It’s so easy to feel comfortable around him, to want to be closer and spend hours just talking. When I knew he was lying, it was an easier feeling to ignore.

“You could always find another vampire,” I point out. “That would solve it if you thought it was a problem.”

It confuses him. His brows furrow as if it was something he hadn’t considered, as if the conversation has taken a turn he didn’t expect, and I use the distraction to look at the clock, high on the wall where clocks always are in cafeterias.

“I need to go. It’s stab-Leah-with-needles o’clock.”

“So soon?” he asks.

It’s not entirely untrue, but I’ll have to walk slowly not to be early, because god forbid they think I’m eager for more tests. My heart skips a little, and he can probably tell, but this whole conversation has veered far too close to gates I locked a long time ago, and do not want open again. I shrug.

“The sooner I get through everything they can think up, the sooner I can go back to catching Murphy.”

“The sooner this whole case is finished.” He watches me, the unspoken half of the sentence left hanging.

“The sooner Wayhaven is safe again.”

In the end, that’s what matters. I can’t lose sight of it.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Earth is Space Australia “The Invasion Continues

You all seemed to really enjoy the burg invasion, so here is some more. I hope you like it and I hope you have a great Monday.

“This planet…. Is a death trap. All our men are dead or…. Or dying…. Please we cannot survive any longer.”

The transmission ended rather abruptly, and the newly instated burg commander slammed his fist into the control panel, “What is happening!”

Around the room his counterparts scurried to avoid his anger.

“There have been reports of animal attacks, poisonings and…. Industrial accidents…. It seems that the human planet is far more dangerous than we originally anticipated. The entire thing is a deathtrap.”

Crew members cowered back against their station as a pincer slammed into the console, “They are squishy flesh-bags you should have no trouble taking them out!”

“The humans are not the problem, it is their planet. It is covered in boiling water, poisonous plants, angry wildlife, and apparently non-military have banded into pack-hunting structures in order to kill us, and it is working very effectively. We assumed that their civilian population would be largely inferior to their military counterparts, but it turns out that the non military humans are just more creative.”

The burg commander’s carapace chattered with his anger, “Then if we cannot win this war, we will hit them where it hurts.”

“Your glory?”

“Bring me the GPS coordinates.”

“The ones that we took from the destroyed human ship.”

The burg rubbed two of his upper legs together, “Exactly those.”

The burg second in command looked very confused, “But, your glory. These….. Are just locations on the planet related to specific human soldiers. Why would we need these?”

The burg commander tapped his leg against the console,

“Cut off the head, and the body will die.”

***

“This morning both local and worldwide governments have reported isolated pockets of alien ivation from all over the world, Let’s head to Jeff who has been traveling the eastern seaboard this morning with details.”

“Thank you Tom, and yes worldwide and local governments have issued a state of emergency. UNSC forces are being deployed as we speak to all locations around the globe where the Burg have been sited. However, this is no independence day Steve, this is something entirely different. While there have been reports about burg sightings, teams of them up to five or six strong in some cases, so far no one has been killed or injured, at least not by a burg anyway.”

“What do you mean Jeff?”

“Well isolated reports have reached us from all across the world of people who have accidentally run into burg remains rather than live soldiers.. Evidence suggests that Crocodiles, bears, wolves, poison ivy, army ants, hippos, kangaroos, and poisonous snakes have all taken up the cause of mother earth, who doesn’t seem particularly pleased about being invaded. And when the burg have made their way into populated city centers, well things haven’t gotten much better. Groups of drunken football fans in eastern Europe and the British isles have been seen roaming the streets of Berlin, Paris, London, Dublin, and Rome in packs . Vatican security forces were even dispatching a number of burg troops in the early hours of the morning.”

The TV screen cut to a grainy video of a dark street which showed a pack of riotous humans with bats, clubs, and broken chairs racing down the street after alien forms shouting insults to the fleeing backs.

The video cut.

“Reports in from Chicago have the local gangs, police forces, and a high school chess club teaming up and beating the invasion back with gunfire, improvised explosives, dogs,  and molotov cocktails of all things.”

“A truly shocking turn of events Jeff, but what are the UNSC saying about protecting us and our families during this time.”

“The UNSC is cautiously optimistic about the outcome of this event, Tom, but even so, they are advising that all Burg sightings be directed to the UNSC invasion hotline, with the number posted on screen right here, and available on all major mobile devices. Civilians are encouraged to avoid the burg if at all possible, though if those are not an option for either you or your family, the CDC has issued reports that human saliva can be fatal to the burg due to a certain enzyme which known to break down burg slime, and the potent cocktail of germs which follow. Your best weapon is to spit at them, barring that, than go right ahead and beat them to death with any available blunt object within reach, or sharp object. Shaolin warriors in china, Samurai enthusiasts in japan on Renaissance goers from america to europe are finding uses for swords and bladed weapons they have not been used for in the history of man. Attack dog saliva is just as useful as human saliva in this case so if Fido wants to get in on the action, your best bet is to let your pooch go ham and serve himself up a plate of space crab.”

“Thank you Jeff, and stay tuned where we will be receiving real time updates on the state of the invasion. But for now will your homeowners insurance cover alien invasions, what you need to know.” Martha, Jim, and Sunny sat on the couch staring at the TV.

Jim scratched his chin thoughtfully, “Better stay inside, Sunny. I’m sure after that there might be some people to gungho to notice you’re a bit too pretty to be a burg.”

“Alien invasion.” Martha muttered, “Do you think we should get the guns ready, just in case.”

The man shrugged, “Couldn’t hurt. Come on Sunny, you know how to use a gun don’t you.”

“I am Chief weapons specialist.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Martha stood, “Grab my shotgun will you, dear, I’m going to go check on Adam.”

He nodded, letting her go. Sunny glanced over her shoulder catching a glimpse into the room through the door where Adam was lying out cold. She was pleased to see he was still asleep, and had slept through most of the night.

Hopefully this alien invasion thing would be over by the time he woke up.

***

Martha appeared at the top of the stairs into the basement, just as Jim and Sunny were coming up the stairs, a gun in each hand.

Martha took one from Sunny and walked into the kitchen, where the three of them sat at the table loading weapons. The doorbell going off nearly startled them out of their seats, but Jim went to go get it.

Sunny listened intently.

“Hey dad, did you see the news this morning?”

“Oh hey David, why don’t you come on inside, good morning to you Jordan, ah and my nephew.” Sunny lifted her head as David, Adam’s older brother, walked into the kitchen with his partner Jordan and their little boy bouncing happily in Jim’s arms.

Martha got up to hug her sun, and the other members of his family.

“Yes we heard about that.”

“Oh, hi sunny. Is Adam here?”

Martha had the group of them take their seats, “he’s resting. Apparently he went and saved the universe just recently, and we are trying to get him to rest. So don’t talk about the whole alien invasion thing too loudly.” 

“Oh, sorry.”

It was just at that moment that the absolutely deafening sound of engines rocked the house rumbling through the floors and shaking the very foundation.

“What in blue blazes.”

Outside the front window a chain of bikers and rednecks doubled up on old rickety dirt bikes raced past the window screaming and brandishing guns. The line seemed to go on forever until they vanished down the road.

“What in the hell.”

A groggy voice just behind them, “What’s going on?”

They all turned to find Adam leaning against the hallway wall rubbing his eyes and looking rather bleery. He was still very pale.

“Just the neighbor kids being louds, now, Go back to bed!”

Adam appeared too groggy to be skeptical and just staggered back to his room.

The group of them looked at each other nervously.

“Sunny and I will stay here and guard the house, you three mind going outside and checking out what is going on.”

***

They had come to cut off the head. All remaining burg forces had been rerouted from the rest of earth, and were now making their way towards the GPS coordinates. They knew they could not overtake earth, but if they couldn’t do that then they had vowed  to destroy the morale of humanity and take away it’s greatest nuisance.

Commander Adam vir would be dead before the sun sak below the horizon.

They entirely expected to show up in surprise, unannounced, but earth had different plans for them. In the space of ten minutes, two of their troops was hit by a minivan, and a third was attacked by a very angry small dog.

Walking along the fence line another burg ran into a very strange creature. It was very small, and sat atop a fence post, its golden eyes fixed on the burg as it lazily flicked it’s tail back and forth. Its ears were drawn back flat against it’s skull. He approached, and the creature hissed. He went to shoo it away with a hand.

And was immediately set upon by a very angry cat intent on ripping his eyes out of his face.

Their luck only worsened as engines rolled up the street, and a group of hungry looking bikers, teamed up with a very gleeful group of rednecks came charging down the street guns blazing. Motorcycles spun out, humans went flying.

Nearby, in the residential houses, families hid in their basements, while others made it to rooftops taking pot shots from their balconies, upper windows, or sometimes form the peak of their rooftops. 

One young man had been very industrious, unbeknownst to his parents, and began chucking lit molotov cocktails out the window of his bedroom. 

His older brother, also a chemistry geek upgraded that to homemade napalm.

From the other end of the street, the highschool girls softball team, and the girl scouts rolled up on hover boards and the backs of bicycles. The  softball team had a mounted automated pitching machine on the back of a wagon, and each girl was equipped with a bat, and a bucket full of balls.

The girl scouts had apparently been preparing since last night, and had water guns full of spit, which was pretty gross but rather effective.

The softball captain took up a mounted position at the back of the wagon, and began pouring the balls into the machine which fired out at about ninety miles an hour give or take five. One burg had his face collapsed in an unlucky turn of events.

Their invitation to the high school baseball team had not gone un-headed, but they had brought with them the chemistry club, and the robotics team, who had downgraded to potato guns for the moment.

The police rocked up a few moments later to create a blockade down the next street and coordinate so now humans got caught in the crossfire .

An unsupervised cheerleader, had made herself rather industrious  pulling up with a vest full of hair products, which people seemed skeptical about until she sprayed a burg right in the eyes, and turned another can into a flamethrower. A group of firemen showed up behind the police, blasting lines of Drev with high powered fire hose 

I took the burg longer than it should have to determine that being lumped into a group wasn’t the best idea and so broke off into smaller units managing to sneak in through the mele and into the neighborhood.

Their luck didn’t get much better.

One of them was nailed in the head by a dirty diaper dropped from an upper window.

Another found himself hounded by the cross country team, who were gleefully using mankind's god-given talent of distance running to run their prey into the ground, hunting like pack humans should before beating them to death with tire irons and crowbars.

Someone’s dad stood on his front porch armed with a fire extinguisher and his tool belt, while another mom had packed her kids neatly into their car seats and was roaming the streets with ACDC blaring through her open windows, mowing over any unsuspecting burg that happened to end up in the street while her teenage daughter offered free ammunition and snacks from the back window.

The UNSC showed up late to the party rolling into scene in jeeps with proper military equipment and drones

By this time the invasion force was dwindling, and only a single group had managed to make it through to their target.

A little house in the center of the suburbs unsuspecting in the warm overhead sun.

They crept forward a few of them moving around back while the others inched around front.

One slid up to the front door, reached out a hand and opened inward.

They were met by the barrel of a shotgun and a very angry blond woman, and her face twisted into a snarl, was the last thing he ever saw.

***

Adam was woken a second time by gunshots. Bolting upright in bed and nearly passing out from the vertigo. He blinked blearily past his fuzzy vision and out the door as his mother backed into the hallway. There was another loud blast and blue icor painted the wall before her.

She backed down the hallway, and he could hear the repeated pump of the shotgun as she backed down the hall.

The burg chasing after.

He tried getting to his feet, but ended up on the floor gripping the bedside table for support.

His mother’s hair flew wildly about her head

“YOU STAY AWAY FROM MY SUN.” Another mob of them was rounding the corner.. It looked like she was going to be over-run.

But a sudden swirl of blue overtook them, and Sunny charged into them dispatching at least four less than as many seconds. A whimper came from the corner, and he turned his head to find Jordan, wide-eyed standing in the corner blocking his son shakily holding a rifle in one hand.

Martha backed up until she was kneeling right before Adam blocking him with her body.

Sunny was backing down the hall now too as the Burg followed.

Jordan took a deep breath and peered around the doorframe, taking one or two shots as sunny flattened herself against the wall, before he ducked back into cover.

It wasn’t looking good.

Not at least until Jim, and David came bursting in one through the front and one through the back mowing down the remaining burg.

Adam found himself flat on his stomach pinned to the floor as his mother through herself over him blocking his body with hers despite how much smaller she was.

And then the gunfire stopped.

“Martha! Martha!”

“We’re ok Jim.”

“Jordan.”

“Right here.” The two of them ran into the room David scooping up Jordan and his son, while Jim ran to make sure his wife was ok.

Outside, boots clattered on the porch, and a group of UNSC soldiers burst into the house sweeping their guns over the blood painted walls. They stopped when they saw Adam sitting at the foot of his bed very much alive, 

“Delta to Alpha one the package is secure.”

Adam was thinking about asking his mother why no one had told him about the alien invasion.

But then he saw her cradling a shotgun covered in burg blood hair in a wild mess and decided that.

Maybe that was a topic for another time. 

[hhoriginalworks]

read it and weep | g.w

warnings: language, unedited

Hogwarts viewed the Weasley twins similarly, but also so drastically different. They were identical to the grouping of freckles on their bums-something everyone had seen after they mooned Snape- and yet, George wasn't the showstopper twin. Sure everyone loved him as much as Fred, but everyone knew that Fred had some undeniable charm that made him stand out just a millimeter more. George drew the crowds in, but Fred was the one who blew them away. George was the one to spike butterbeer with firewhiskey, but Fred was the person who would convince the most sensible Ravenclaws and meek Hufflepuffs to chug it.

It was a small difference, but for twins who had been viewed the same for so long, it seemed to be enough of a difference. It didn't change whose business it was because it was both equally theirs, but it changed who said the most catching phrases and who drew up the marketing strategies. It was a well-oiled machine of laughter and fun-filled jokes until it wasn't. Until George was thrown into fame for being a Weasley and the only remaining founder of a joke shop that reminded him of everything that fame cost.

Now, the world viewed the Weasley twins in very drastic ways. They viewed one alive and the other lost honorably to the war.

George hated it all- the pity, the title of being the alive twin, feeling like he was letting down Fred by keeping the shop boarded up, and even worse, all of the flowers. He was knee-deep in roses, pansies, peonies, and ever so dreaded, calla lilies. He frankly wanted to burn them all.

"Aren't these, lovely, George," Angelina hummed, trying to lift the spirits of the apartment above the shop. Angelina started to make her visits a daily thing, and she hated that she agreed that George seemed to haunt the apartment more than Fred.

"Not really," George sighed, tossing the pastel peonies into the trash. "If I get another floral arrangement, I'm going to burn the entire flat down."

"Okay then," Angelina replied, taking a deep breath in an attempt to gain more patience with the redhead. She loved George, but he had been in this state of pessimism for months now, and all she wanted was to yell at him. "Well, if you hate them so much, why don't you visit the flower shop across the street and ask them to stop sending them."

_______

You were up to your ears in orders for tombstones, for surviving family members, for family members that are reconciling after realizing how short life is, but mostly, for George Weasley. It was good for business you guessed, but you missed orders for wives that didn't know about their husbands' romantic surprise, for children that got brilliant marks, for birthdays, really, for anything but George Weasley.

The words of condolences weighed you down, the tear-stained paper messages tore at your heart, and the thought of all the people who were lost to the war killed you with each positioned flower. Flowers were always something you loved, but now they were tainted with tears and memories of children's screams.

"Hello?" The echos from the front room were enough to nudge you out of your dreary thoughts.

"We're- we're closed," you called back, touching your hand to your wet cheek.

"Well, I need to talk to the owner," the voice bit back with less hesitance and more bitterness. You wanted to scream that closed meant you didn't have any obligation to help him, but you didn't. You closed your eyes and pushed yourself away from the flower arrangement table and towards the front room.

"What do you need?" You asked, your eyes still partially closed. It would be a lie if you didn't admit to doing it to show the customer you were tired and done with the day.

"I need the flowers to stop."

You opened your eyes, somewhat shocked and offended by his word. "Excuse me- you want me to do what?"

"To stop- I don't need them. They are crowding my apartment, and to be quite frank if they don't stop, I'll have to start burning them." The redhead was lanky and tired-looking. He was as pale as a ghost and looked just as haunted.

"I-I- don't understand, sir," you attempted, your customer-friendly facade starting to fade as the redhead rolled his eyes. "What is your name?"

"George Weasley, and what's yours? Are you the manager? Can you do something to help me or not?" His words were drowned out of the sound of your own thoughts streaming through your mind.

"Oh." With all the orders for the infamous George Weasley, you had promised yourself to say something reassuring to him if you ever saw him in person. Yet, all you could manage was 'oh.'

"Can you just stop them? I don't need flowers- I don't need bunches of stupid plants that just die after a few days. Just stop them, okay?" George looked as though his facade was starting to slip too. Something about the way he begged you made your eyes well with tears and your heart to stop.

"I'm y/n, and I want to help you resolve this issue, but I can't stop sending them," you replied, shaking as you conjured up a list of all the orders you still had to finish for him. "They already paid for your flowers-"

"They aren't my flowers because I refuse them. I don't want flowers. I don't understand what you don't get about what I'm saying. I want my brother- I want Fred. Flowers do nothing to fix this fucking hole in my heart. They are worthless- they- they-"

"They are all anyone can do," you interrupted, taking a step closer to George. "You think that people don't want you to have your brother back? Flowers are the language of love, of guilt, of hope, of grief. People just want to show you that they are hurting too."

"By drowning me in fucking roses, lilies, and ugly arrangements that just shrivel up in a matter of days? You just want to make a quick buck," George argued back, running his hands through his hair.

"I resent that statement, sir. I pour my own love and grief into those arrangements. I handwrite those notes from people who are just trying to reach out to you. I-I cast my own enchantments on those flowers to ensure that they only die if the person who receives them hasn't read the card within a matter of days," you shouted back. "You haven't even read what people are trying to tell you?"

"No, because I don't need their pity," George yelled back, his voice starting to crack.

"George, I miss seeing you at family breakfast on Sunday. Mum is a mess without both you and Fred. You said you liked the daisies I picked and placed on the table. Sending these to remind you that you still have a family waiting for you on Sunday. Ginny." Your voice shook as you read out one of the messages that touched you the most. "George, I'm sorry I told that joke. I'm sorry that it wasn't me. I have so many sorrys to say, but I can't get myself to write them all. The only thing I've ever done right by you is when I took the blame for ruining mum's white hyacinths. Please write to me- Percy."

"Stop it," George plead, his anger melted away and his voice raw with sadness. His words tore you to piece, but you continued because so did the words that so many people wrote to him.

"Weasley, you were always a troublemaker. Never quit even when I told you it was gonna land you in detention, cleaning after the Hippogriffs. I know you're a strong one, so don't quit on us. Sending you some ivy from my hut and some of those fancy roses. Hagrid," you continued, your voice stronger as your cheeks became caked with tears. "People don't know how to reach out to you, so they send flowers because flowers mean something. You mean something to them, and nearly all of those arrangements are shared memories. You can't burn them like you're burning the bridges of your friendships and families."

"I-I-"

Silence filled the small shop, and distance formed between you and the redhead. Perhaps it was the notes you had recited or the fact you finally let yourself feel the grief you were surrounded in, but you felt everything had changed.

"I hate being surrounded by flowers that are just attempts to save others from grief too, but they mean something those who sent them. I- I'm sorry, but I can't stop sending them," you whispered, wiping your cheeks dry.

George seemed just as changed, his anger and bitterness stripped from him, only to leave behind the fact that he felt alone and guilty. "Can you do something for me? Please, um, y/n."

"Sure," you breathed, straightening out the front of your shirt.

"Can you help me order some flowers for my family and friends?"

You smiled- an honest smile that wasn't weighed down by sadness. "I'll help you make some flower arrangements for your friends and family, George."

[nerv0usm3chanic]

CORRUPTION

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

--

((NOTE - This is an introduction to a new PERMANENT AU feature exclusive to nerv0usm3chanic. Please see further, generalized information regarding this AU here: X

Be advised that each of these chapters are VERY LONG. The full content will be tucked under a read more after a brief introduction segment.

DO NOT REBLOG.))

--

Vivi frowned as she spotted Arthur perusing the shelves of Tome Tomb. He wasn’t often in here except when meeting up with Vivi for hanging out later...which, now that she thought about it, hadn’t happened in quite some time. The blue-haired woman made a mental note to invite Arthur and Lewis over for one of their terrible movie nights before heading over to talk to the blond.

“Hey Artie!” The blond jumped at her sudden greeting, his hand over his now racing heart as it registered who it was that spoke to him. “Oh jeeze! I’m sorry for spooking you, Arthur.” She couldn’t help but let a small giggle.

“N-no worries, I’m fine.” Arthur assured her, taking a deep breath, “I um...I was just looking up some things here.” He gestured to the shelf, a series of books on it and many of which hopefully containing his desired topic. Vivi peered over, tilting her head and quirking an eyebrow.

“These are all about ghosts and magic...ooh! Did you hear a rumor about something spooky?” She was getting excited now, “Are you researching for a case, Artie?” Her eyes sparked with her excitement. With a nervous swallow, Arthur nodded slightly, scratching at the back of his head.

“Uh, y-yeah, you caught me.” He coughed, “I heard some rumors of ghosts causing some magical energy fluxes and-”

“Ooh! So exciting! I’ll have to get with you on this later after work!” Vivi clasped her hands around his and practically bounced in place. Just as suddenly, she bounded away to continue her workday and Arthur sighed. Thankfully, he got away without further questions, but he hated the idea of having to explain exactly why he was researching this topic. He’d have to take a rain check if she were to invite him anywhere.

--

“Is this everything?” The shopkeeper asked in a calm, neutral drawl. Arthur nodded silently, drumming his fingers - both the metallic and flesh and bone - on the counter as Duet collected the first of the three books. A blightly-colored eyebrow quirks and the mysterious person looked at Arthur meaningfully. “Are you sure?”

“U-uhm...I think so?” Arthur quailed, glancing sideways as he saw Vivi pass by with a cart of books to be out away. With worrying amber eyes, Arthur begged Duet to stay quiet about his purchases. They too glanced at Vivi before setting the book down with a soft sigh and giving Arthur a serious look.

“Something is off about you, Kingsmen. And I don’t like it.” They commented in a hushed tone, sure to keep their conversation between Arthur and them alone. Their implication was deeply ominous and Arthur shrank at the connotations. Duet relaxed slightly, easing their dark tone and casually checking out the books Arthur had selected as if nothing had been said. After a moment, Duet looked to the blond again.

“You are...researching...yes?” They offered a much more sensitive tone, prompting Arthur to nod and sigh in some relief. “Perhaps there is someone...I can recommend to you.” And with another subtle gesture, Arthur saw a flash of gold from Duet’s sleeve. He blinked as the shopkeeper slipped the thing in between random pages in one of the larger books.

“Was that a...a card?” Arthur asked as Duet finished ringing up the books. They didn’t answer, just placed the books into a plastic bag and looked to Arthur again.

“That will be $43.23.” Duet’s flat expression indicated they had no interest in continuing. Them making a directed glance over Arthur’s shoulder was enough to say why: Vivi was nearby. Arthur nodded, pulling out his wallet and retrieving the necessary funds.

“Thank you.” Arthur nodded, passing a $50 bill and taking his bag of books. He had no need for the small amount of change, especially if Duet’s lead pointed him in the right direction.

--

“This is it?” Arthur asked himself later that evening, looking at the gilded card and with the large book in his lap. There wasn’t anything even written on the card, just a golden embossed moon and beneath it, the words ‘qui petit auxilium’. Arthur didn’t know what it meant and he frowned angrily as he flung the card off to the side. He pouted further when the card spun gracefully and made a smooth landing on his nightstand. “How am I supposed to get help with this stupid spirit if I can’t get a straight answer?”

‘I can hear you, boy.’ The spirit snarled in his head.

“I know you can.” Arthur growled back, turning to the book for help and turning pages to look at the index. The blond proceeded to read from a selected section, investigating all he could from what little there actually was on ghosts and their affects on people.

Pages upon pages on skeptical theory, a chapter on the effects of those under possession - or assumed so - and a handful of paragraphs on magical side effects. None of which described lightning or electricity. There was a small section on hearing the voice of the spirit that plagued, though it was played down shortly after with most victims actually being mentally-ill. Arthur grew frustrated. Hearing that voice constantly tease and taunt him, a spirit that made electricity fly from his hands at the most inconvenient times, and the constant strain and worry...

With an exhausted sigh, Arthur shut the book, using the attached ribbon as a bookmark. He set the book on his nightstand and flopped onto his mattress...before looking to the card once again. Metal fingers reached out, taking the slip of thick paper and turning it carefully. The moon glinted bright in the lamplight as it turned and again the words showed bright.

“Qui petit auxilium...I wonder what that means?” Arthur whispered, weariness beginning to weigh on his eyelids. ‘I just...I just wish I could find something...someone to help me.’ With that thought, the blond curled onto his side, ignoring the devious hums of the other voice in his skull.

--

Despite his doubts, Arthur continued his research, both through the books he purchased and online. He even created a new throwaway Reddit account to search for advice and ideas on how to deal with things. Most if it was hooey and there were a lot of folks going to him to sell their ‘holistic’ home remedies for his ‘condition’. With a sigh, Arthur closed his laptop and rubbed at his tired eyes, bags growing darker each day.

He was the definition of exhausted. By this point it had been more than a year since his possession and he still hadn’t gotten used to the meddling voice in his head or the electrical surges that liked to flow around his metal arm. Arthur scowled at the appendage.

“You were supposed to help me feel normal again.” The mechanic growled at the inanimate arm as it laid peacefully beside his computer.

‘Normal was never an option after you and your friends stepped into my trap.’ The blond ground his teeth a moment before aggressively pushing back from his desk. He needed a walk. Arthur said as much when Lucan asked where he was going.

“Awrigh’ lad...bu’ Ah got dinner cookin’ righ’ now. If ye want it warm an’ fresh, be back in a half hour, okay?” Lucan asked. Arthur gave a tired grunt of ascent and loudly closed the apartment door behind him. The dark-haired Kingsmen looked to his father in concern. Arthur was rarely this moody, even in his teenage rebellious phase and it worried his family.

--

There was a flash of gold in the bright moonlight as Arhur played with the strange card over and around his fingers. The nights were chill and even walks at 6:30 pm were lit by streetlamps and moonbeams. Arthur liked going for walks at night. Fewer people to run into, to talk to about how poorly and pale he was getting, to look at his arm and feel sorry for him. Amber eyes narrowed at the thought.

He’d seen the pitying looks all three of his friends gave him...and he understood why, but it hurt to see them think anything poorly of him because of his still-new disability. He wanted to be normal again. He wanted to have never gone into that cave. He wanted Vivi and Lewis to have listened to him and his bad feelings. He wanted to...to...he sighed in defeat, looking to the card Duet had given him as he walked past a series of old houses in the nicer neighborhood on the outskirts of Tempo.

Research led to only dead ends...to all but one question he had.

“Qui petit auxilium...help to those who ask for it.” A nice sentiment...but ultimately useless if he didn’t know who to ask for help. His only clue was the golden moon that seemed to glow full under the light of the pale white moon above his head. Funny...they both seemed to match at this phase. Arthur hummed idly as he thought about it and looked up.

“A shooting star...” He murmured, coming to a stop in front of another old pseudo-Victorian-style house, the walls covered in ivy and all of the windows dark with some boarded up and others curtained off. He watched the meteorite sail in a surprisingly long trail across the sky. Before it vanished, he closed his eyes and sighed out softly:

“I wish I could find answers...I need help. Who do I go to?” He opened his eyes to see the meteorite had gone. “...please?” For once...the spirit in his head was silent. Arthur felt its presence, but heard nothing. That in itself was remarkable. On another outlet of breath and a soft nod, Arthur turned his head from the sky and turned to make his way back home...when he heard a loud creaking from his right.

Startled, Arthur whipped his head towards the previously-abandoned house. The door was opened and a bright light poured forth, golden and warm and beckoning. The blond didn’t even notice the soft pulse of magic from the card in his hand as he cautiously made his way through the front gate and approached the front porch. He didn’t even notice that the windows remained dark and empty of all life.

The entity in his mind was suspiciously quiet as he set foot on the creaky wood and carefully approached the door.

“Hello? Hello, is anyone home?” Arthur called out, hopeful to gain the homeowner’s attention as he poked his head inside. “I think your door lock may be...broken...” Words trailed off as Arthur took in the sight before him: a comfortable entryway complete with classically ornate wallpaper and decorations given gold trim to compliment their warm tones. He stepped further inside, fascinated to explore more.

Arthur came across a sitting room with the back of a large wooden chair facing him, a fire dancing merrily in its hearth. He sucked in a cautious breath when he noticed a dark-skinned elbow resting on one of the arms and a draping golden cloth pooling at the front of the chair.

“A-ah um...ex-excuse me for intruding...” Arthur started, pausing to swallow nervously. “I-I um...I actually was walking by and your d-door seemed to creak open on it’s own. I’m...I’m not sure, but I think your lock may be broken. I just wanted to let you know, just so you’re not surprised...by intruders...like me.” Oh, he could have done this so much better. Waiting at the front door and knocking would have been a much nicer way to alert the homeowner of this issue.

“I appreciate your concern, but you needn’t worry. I will be just fine.” There was a flutter of nerves in Arthur at the low, feminine tone. Internally, he was both intrigued and frightened by the energy he could feel exuding from around the woman in the chair. Then suddenly he was more frightened when - in the corner of his periphery - he saw the door lazily creak shut and click securely in place.

“Come around so I may see you.” A soft request that rang as a command through Arthur’s rattled skull as she raised one hand to beckon him forward. He nodded despite the fact that she couldn’t see it and carefully made his way around the armchair before finally seeing the commanding woman who owned this obviously magical home.

She was quite the opposite of who he expected to be living in a decrepit-looking house. Shimmering golden locks were tied back neatly, held back by a pearly comb while the rest spilled gracefully around and over her mostly bare shoulders. Arthur blinked at the shimmery golden dress she wore, something he estimated to be worth five or more months of his earnings at Kingsmen Mechanics and she wore it like a second skin with how confident and relaxed she was in her seat. His eyes briefly assessed her arms - obviously strong with muscle, but still lithe and feminine with their bearer’s grace - before he met her gaze.

Arthur swallowed at the bright glow that emanated from her eyes. A firm gaze that studied him with obvious wary scrutiny and a touch of irritation that carried to the slight downturn of the corner of her dark and light contrasting lips...Arthur averted his eyes to her shoulder as the homeowner assessed the mechanic.

“You asked for help...for a problem you cannot resolve by typical means.” A statement, not a question, but Arthur nodded anyway. There was a beat and then the woman let out a soft breath, so soft that Arthur was sure a mouse couldn’t have been quieter. “You wouldn’t be inside this building if you weren’t in genuine need. Take a seat and tell me what plagues you.” Arthur looked to the matching armchair beside hers as she gestured her other hand towards it.

“Th-thank you...” Arthur says gently, nodding to the woman and taking his seat. Once comfortable, Arthur begins to spin his tale.

That was the night he met Luna, the Witch of Secrets...

--

Chapters: 1 || 2 || 3 || 4

[starship-squidlet]

Wordgame: Truth - Tryst

(Okay, so I’m not doing these in the order you sent them—I’m doing them in order of which I have an idea for 😂)

I decided to do this one in the Space Pirate AU I’m working on!!! It’s sort of a Newsies/Star Wars crossover, because I was too lazy to do full world-building for a whole galaxy, but all that’s coming from Star Wars is names of places/things/species/etc. Hope that makes sense.

Fandom: Newsies (and sort of Star Wars)

Word count: 1,441

(I’m also tagging @the-cowbi @fifty-for-the-racer @aggressive-bucky-barnes-stan because I know you guys were at least a little interested in the Space Pirate AU/Yo Ho Hero so I thought you might be interested in this!)

.*.*.*.*.*.

“Hey, JoJo! Where ya goin’?” Romeo dropped down from the crossbeam of the mast and cocked his head to the side, ears swiveling, one to face her, one turning towards some noise from the other end of the ship that only he could hear.

JoJo rolled her eyes and shrugged. “Just out,” she said, intentionally vague. She didn’t need anyone knowing her business, least of all Romeo, who quite possibly had the biggest mouth on the ship. “Even I need to get off the ship every now and then.”

“Aw, come on,” he whined. “Tell me the truth.”

“What makes you think that’s not it?” JoJo laughed. She brushed past him, the rainbow crest of feathers that ran from the bridge of her nose to the small of her back rippling. “Tell Spot I’ll be back well before we cast off if he asks.”

“You better be,” Romeo called after her. “He’ll leave without you!”

“Yeah, I know!”

JoJo pulled her hood up as she stepped off the gangplank and onto the crowded platform of the space dock. While the people around her were quite literally of all shapes, sizes, colors, and more, the kaleidoscope of brilliant colors of her feathers tended to draw a few stares. Onotorans weren’t common even in the Outer Rim, and they were currently in the Core. Most people around here had never even heard of her people, planet, or system. She didn’t want to draw unwanted attention.

The spaceport was fairly easy to navigate. She’d been there enough times that she knew her way to her destination. It was a small corner of an overgrown garden, hidden from the paths around it behind curtains of wild ivy and tall hedges in desperate need of a trim. JoJo glanced over her shoulder as she approached the garden. This part of the spaceport wasn’t as busy as the main roads, but, in the name of privacy, she didn’t particularly want to be seen.

When she was certain no-one was watching, she slipped a hand under the ivy and pulled it aside so that she could step in. As her eyes adjusted to the dimmer, green-tinted light, she smiled to herself. She wasn’t the first to arrive.

Sniper grinned as she stood. Her cloak had been pushed back behind her shoulders, her lekku resting against her chest to brush against her stomach. She reached out a hand towards JoJo to help her step up onto the small platform concealed by the ivy. JoJo accepted it, her own lavender skin turning a dull brown in the green light, while Sniper’s yellow skin wore a chartreuse hue. Sniper pulled her up and into a long, tight hug.

They stood there for several minutes before JoJo pulled away just long enough to press a kiss to the other woman’s lips. “Hi,” she giggled, resting her forehead against Sniper’s.

“Hi,” Sniper laughed. “Welcome back. How was the Mid Rim?”

“Boring,” JoJo rolled her eyes. She took a step back and slid her coat down and off, tossing it aside as she revealed the feathers on her forearms and back, all laid flat against her skin, as she was undeniably relaxed for the first time in weeks—since the last time she and Sniper had been able to meet for one of their trysts.

Sniper grinned and unclasped her cloak, tossing it on top of JoJo’s discarded jacket. They settled down on the moss-covered platform, staring up at what little of the sky was visible through the ivy-covered lattice over them. They chatted for a while, side by side, hands clasped. JoJo rested her head against Sniper’s shoulder, smiling at the familiarity of her scent. It was oil and spices and hints of fuel all at once, and they combined to smell like happiness. Like love. Like home. Sniper pulled her hand away and squirmed around to wrap her arm around JoJo’s shoulders, pulling her even closer.

“How much longer do you have?” Sniper murmured.

JoJo sighed and lifted her arm, shaking her wrist to get her timepiece to display. “Ten minutes before Spot starts to get angry. Thirty before he gets really angry.”

Sniper laughed. “Guess I’d better get ready to let you go again.”

JoJo groaned and rolled onto her side, slinging her arm over Sniper’s stomach and burying her face in her shoulder. “Do we have to?” she grumbled, voice muffled.

“Only if you want to keep your job.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“It’s a good job.”

“And I’m good at it. Everyone always needs a good navigator. I can find another job. One that doesn’t take me so far out from the Core.”

Sniper smiled to herself. “And you’d be miserable. You like exploring.”

“I love you.”

“Well, I love you enough to know that we’re both happier with you going out on your adventures. Because otherwise you’re miserable, and then I’m miserable because you’re miserable.”

JoJo laughed and pulled away into a sitting position. “I wouldn’t be miserable. I can’t be miserable with you around.”

Sniper rolled her eyes and sat up, slinging her legs over JoJo’s and pulling her down so that their foreheads rested against each other. “One of these days we’ll settle down together. Just… not yet.”

JoJo smiled and pulled her into another kiss. “Hopefully ‘one of these days’ isn’t too far off.”

“Hopefully.”

A few minutes later, they reluctantly separated and retrieved their outerwear. JoJo pulled on her coat and raised the hood again, while Sniper settled for wrapping her cloak loosely around her shoulders, lifting her lekku out from under it and letting them rest on top of the garment while she fiddled with the clasp. After a moment, JoJo pushed her hands aside and fastened the clasp for her. “Honestly,” she sighed. “A mechanic, and you can’t even get the clasp on your cloak fixed. How do you repair ships?”

Sniper laughed. “Sometimes I don’t even know that myself.”

They walked part of the way together before separating, JoJo for the dock where The Banner was waiting for her, and Sniper for the repair bays where she worked. “Let me know when you’re heading back for the Core,” Sniper whispered, leaning in to press one last kiss to JoJo’s cheek.

“I’ll call as soon as I can,” JoJo promised. “Maybe we’ll go to a big enough spaceport that I can find a holonet terminal.”

Sniper snorted. “Good luck with that.”

JoJo laughed and waved goodbye as they split apart. She took her time walking back to The Banner, even though—or maybe because—she knew it would annoy Spot.

Sure enough, the captain was waiting for her, arms crossed and ears back as he scowled down the gangplank at her. “You’re late.”

JoJo sighed. “Sorry, captain. Won’t happen again.”

Spot barked out a laugh. “Sure. I’ll buy that lie when pigs fly.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s somewhere in the galaxy where they do,” JoJo quipped, slipping past him. “Do we have our heading?”

“We do,” Spot said, falling in step beside her as they headed for the control board. “Coordinates are already set; just waiting for you to plot our course.”

JoJo nodded and took her place behind the navicomputer, running quickly through calculations and dialing the directions into the computer. “Ready when you are, captain!” she called once it was done.

Spot nodded, once, and went through the ignition sequence. The huge, barrel-shaped engines on the sides of the ship roared to life, the third on the keel following suit as they began to lift away from their berth. As they rose, the transparisteel walls that formed their protective atmosphere bubble unfolded and rose, meeting at the top of the mast. The shimmer of the outer shield was only seconds behind the dome, tinging the view with the palest of blues.

Finch, Specs, Romeo, and Skittery were perched in their positions in the rigging, hair and fur and feathers fluttering in the “wind” generated by the moving currents of recycled air that filled the ship with atmosphere. The last three occupants of the ship stood behind JoJo and Spot: Katherine and Charlie, “princess” and “prince”, respectively, of their illustrious father’s semi-legitimate shipping empire, and Davey, their magic-wielding babysitter, for lack of a better term.

“Loose the rigging!” Spot called, and the boys up the masts scurried to follow the order. In seconds, the massive solar sails that collected power for the ship were unfurled, billowing outwards towards the closest source of ultraviolet light.

JoJo smiled to herself. I may not want to admit it, but Sniper’s right. This is where I belong right now. This is where I want to be.

[g0ttal0ve101]

🍂~NAME~🍂

Full Name: Evelyn Anderson

Meaning: “Alive”

Nicknames: Eve and Evy

Name Language: French

🍂~PHYSICAL~🍂

Skin: Fair

Eyes: Green

Hair: Light brown

Gender: Female

Height: 5’1

Weight: 97 lbs

Age: 14

Sexuality: Pansexual

Ethnicity: British

🍂~ATTIRE~🍂

Normal Clothes: Evelyn comes from a very wealthy family, so her clothes are always up to par. She usually wears huge formal dresses or big frilled skirts. Her favorite color is green, so she oftentimes wears all of her outfits in various green colors. While she is a sacrifice, however, she wears an outfit very dialed down from what she usually wears. Evelyn wears a light ivy suspender-skirt with thigh-high striped (white and green) socks and black flats. Her hair is pulled back into twin braids and she has a small hat on her head.

🍂~STARS~🍂

Zodiac: Scorpio ♏️ 

Birthday: November 13th

Color: Black

Animal: Scorpion 

🍂~MENTAL~🍂

Illnesses: OCD disorder and germophobia.

Personality: Quiet, intelligent, kind, and oblivious.

Worst Memory: Killing her brother out of self defense.

Best Memory: Reading books with her mother every Sunday.

🍂~ACQUAINTANCES~🍂

Friends: None

Family: Callum (older brother), unnamed mother, unnamed father.

Enemies: None

🍂~TRIVIA~🍂

Evelyn originally was supposed to be a detective who finds the facility and wants to put an end to the experiment. She was supposed to be around twenty years old.

She is very self-conscious about her British accent, rarely talking unless needed or when she’s with very close friends/family. However, she doesn’t really have either of those, so she remains silent most of the time.

^ Adding onto that, I named Evelyn off of the song “Evelyn, Evelyn.” And imagine her voice to sound a bit like the female lead, just with a British accent. (The male lead I’d imagine sounds like her older brother, Callum.) Her voice is very faint and almost always has a sad tone to it, unlike Rachel who is completely monotone. She definitely shows a lot of emotion, just quiet about it.

Evelyn comes from a very wealthy family, which is wear she gets her sense of clothing. She loves the color green and almost always wears it.

She dislikes any sort of sticky foods or substances.

She most likely washes her hands every twenty minutes, carrying around hand sanitizer everywhere.

No matter what situation she’s in, if she sees something that sparks her OCD or germophobia, she will try to fix/clean what’s bothering her. For an example, getting chased by Zack, she still had to even out a wooden plank. When she doesn’t, she begins to feel itchy and her mental state plummets into one that leads her to murder.

When she murders, it’s usually because someone was preventing her from cleaning/fixing something or because they try to touch her when they’re dirty. It tends to be the first case though and they get a warning when they try to touch her.

Evelyn was homeschooled after going to a boarding school for young ladies who were also wealthy. They bullied her tremendously because of her condition and treated her as if she were some sort of creature rather than a girl. They would purposely mess up her belongs or do something disgusting to embarrass her in front of everyone for cleaning it up immediately, making fun of her trance-like state. They even went as far as cutting her hair unevenly so she could have to trim it to her neck, which was the final straw for her. She ended up brutally beating one of the girls with her cafeteria tray and getting expelled.

Her older brother, Callum, suffered the same conditions, along with a severe case of anxiety. When something was out of order, he would completely flip out and become violent immediately. This is why when Evelyn tried to readjust Callum’s belongs that seemed slightly off, he would threaten to kill her and beat her. However, other than those moments, Callum was always very kind and respectful to everyone around him. 

Although I hate describing characters with picrews, I will anyway teehee.

Evelyn’s original design:

Evelyn’s final design:

[quoteablebooks]

Genre: Fantasy, Fiction, Historical Fiction, Steampunk

Rating: 4 out of 5 stars

Summary:

Alexia Tarabotti, Lady Maccon, has settled into domestic bliss. Of course, being Alexia, such bliss involves integrating werewolves into London High society, living in a vampire's second best closet, and coping with a precocious toddler who is prone to turning supernatural willy-nilly. Even Ivy Tunstell's acting troupe's latest play, disastrous to say the least, cannot put a dampener on Alexia's enjoyment of her new London lifestyle.

Until, that is, she receives a summons from Alexandria that cannot be ignored. With husband, child and Tunstells in tow, Alexia boards a steamer to cross the Mediterranean. But Egypt may hold more mysteries than even the indomitable Lady Maccon can handle. What does the vampire Queen of the Alexandria Hive really want from her? Why is the God-Breaker Plague suddenly expanding? And how has Ivy Tunstell suddenly become the most popular actress in all the British Empire?

*Opinions*

The fifth and final novel of the Parasol Protectorate series starts two years after the end of Heartless, with Lady Alexia Maccon still living in the second-best closet in Lord Akeldema’s townhouse due to some very interesting supernatural politics that resulted in the Maccon’s living in the vampire’s home. However, after a werewolf is murdered and an invitation is extended to Alexia and her daughter Prudence that she cannot refuse, the Maccons head to Egypt with the Tunstells acting troupe as cover to see if they can take care of all the mysteries at the same time. Things are never that easy for Alexia and soon the past and present converge that will tax even Lady Maccon’s intelligence and sensibilities, especially without tea to help fortify her. This final novel keeps the lighthearted and humorous tone of the rest of the novel while also providing a nice final chapter to Lady and Lord Maccon’s story, well their story as main characters at least.

  The characters, as always, were enchanting and loveable. I enjoyed that we finally got some parts of the story from Biffy’s point of view. He has always been an interesting character from drone to werewolf and one that I enjoyed, but he was also was held at arm’s length that made it so he didn’t rise in my affections like Professor Lyall or Lord Akeldema. I found his and Alexia’s relationship very sweet and enjoyed watching him adjust to his new life while still having confidence in his abilities. I would have liked more time with Biffy and Professor Lyall before they became intimate, even though that had been set up in the previous novel, but I have always loved a slow burn. I also know that there is another novella about the two of them so I’m guessing I will get the page time in that novel. While I have always loved Carriger’s characters in all her novels, I felt as if Channing and Felicity were rather flat in comparison. I thought that both of them had flashes of brilliance and depth throughout the series, but usually, they were just present to cause an issue to move the plot along and then disappeared again. When Carriger did so well with all her other characters, even ones that had very little page time, it made these two characters stand out all the more. While I know that Channing has another story, I don’t think we will see Felicity again, which I am alright with given how dull and vicious she turned out to be. As expected with any novel that has an established relationship in it, Alexia and Conall do have a bit of a bumpy go of it during the middle of the novel. While I believe that Conall had every right to be mad at Alexia for not telling him about the Kingair plot, I also understand why she kept the secret to keep the pack together. However, what did bother me is that never once did Alexia and Conall talk about how he treated her at the end of the Changeless. Maybe it is just the petty side of me, but my temper would lead that to be brought up whenever I was taken to task over something serious. Then again, Alexia really never apologies to Conall about the Kingair information and he forgives her so I guess it’s all evened out. As always, I believe that Carriger did a good job at mixing science and supernatural in this novel and series. That being said, the threat of science became less and less relevant as the series went along. I was truly expecting that the Order of the Brass Octopus to have a much bigger part in this novel’s plot, but it continued to be relegated to the reason that Alexia doesn’t trust Madame Lefoux and little else. Even the supernatural threat was not what it was in previous novels, though both Alexia and her daughter Prudence are still considered abominations. This is not saying that the novel was boring, but something I found interesting and complex in the first two novels seemed to fall away as the series progressed. As a conclusion to a series, I felt as if the ending went a little too quickly and there was no true settling of any of the issues that hung over the Maccon clan on their return from Egypt. I know that Carriger wrote more in this universe, but the end to a series should still feel like an end. That isn’t saying it wasn’t satisfying, I loved that everything wasn’t wrapped up as that is not believable, but everything was more paused than completed. It just made it seem like there should be another book or an epilogue, something to give a feeling of finality to the ending of Lord and Lady Maccon’s story. I’m going to miss Alexia, who is up there with one of my favorite heroines, and enjoyed my time with her and her ever-changing pack. I’m in love with the world that Carriger created and I am going to continue reading my way through the whole parasolverse saga. That being said, I know that I am going to revisit this series. It’s too fun not to.