#good god this took me so long i should be asleep but. we persevere

[raedas]

I WANT YOU TO VOTE VRISKA!!!!!!!!

this is a tumblrwoman contest. not a tumblr sexywoman contest vote qualmfree w/ regards 2 vriska being a minor

eda has barely existed for the past 3 years. vriska is a fundamental part of tumblr history. if you knew your roots for cecil, know your roots for vriska

vriska is eternal even outside of homestuck. vriska is vriska is vriska. eda is fundamentally rooted in the owl house and will always be an owl house character first and foremost, thus not representative of tumblr culture as a whole

go watch [s] terezi: remem8er and be fundamentally changed. do it i dare you

vriska invented gaslight gatekeep girlboss she invented womens wrongs she is the og

vriska serket fucking balls

love her or hate her, you know vriska had the bigger cultural impact. everyone saying "im just voting eda because i dont want vriska to win" should be a vote for vriska. this is not a popularity contest this is a tumblrwoman contest and vriska is theee tumblrwoman

vriska did nothing wrong <3

[dany-is-my-queen]

Born To Be Yours | Part X

Sansa Stark x Fem! Baratheon! Reader (Daenerys Targaryen x Fem! Baratheon! Reader eventually)

Season 1-8

Word Count: 3,387

Note: This is the end of S2! Thank you for reading <3

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6 Pt.7 Pt.8 Pt.9

“Are you out of your mind?” Cersei peevishly protested. You heavily sighed. “You just want to prove yourself, and impress that northerner friend of yours-“ You cut her off.

“I don’t need to prove anything.” She rolled her eyes.

“So what do you want to earn from it? You’ll stay in the Red Keep with the other highborn ladies. End of this conversation.” You pressed your lips, not pushing harder cause the result would be the same. If you are in the same place Sansa is when this starts then you can keep an eye on her in case things go sideways for your brother’s army.

You stormed out of her chambers. Cersei might not hold the same affection she does for your brothers and sister but she doesn’t want you to die, in her own strange way she cares, not that she knows how to show it.

The bells rang, the troops were ready, Joffrey had the stupid idea of attacking the Starks now that they were distracted. He came to his senses thanks to you, he finally kind of admitted you are were right. And that that wasn’t a prudent decision.

Truth be told, you were afraid, afraid for your family safety, this is war, nothing less, you were always so self-confident, you believed the good would persevere, the strongest and largest forces would win, the smartest. You can be so wrong about that fact... Tonight a lot of people will die fighting for his own King, and just because your brother is a bastard. You might as well be one too, but you are not, you are Y/N Baratheon.

The Throne Room was lit by great flaming braziers. “I see you changed your mind.” Tyrion asserted.

“My mother is very convincing.” You jested. “Actually, I pondered it through, Sansa needs me, she’d be devastated if some plucky soldier manages to drive an ax through my heart.”

“You can’t die before confessing your feelings to your lady.” He playfully remarked. She and Shae arrived, they slightly bowed.

“Lady Sansa and Sheila.” He said in purpose.

“Shae.” She corrected him.

“Shae, yes.”

“What are you doing here?” You questioned half surprised, you didn’t expect to see her until you were on the Keep.

“King Joffrey sent me to see him off, my Princess, my Lord. And you? I thought-“

“I’m not going anywhere.” She smiled broadly, acknowledging you will stay by her side.

“Sansa, come here.” Joffrey called for her. Shae and your uncle discreetly said goodbye to one another.

“Be safe. You are my favorite uncle.”

“I know.” He winked.

“Some of those boys will never come back.” Sansa didn’t take her eyes off the group of men heading outside.

“Joffrey will. The worst always live.” She emotionless said. Shae frowned, a bit worried you’d be angry about that, you couldn’t care less.

At the Meagor’s holdfast you sat next to little Tommen. You took a few seconds to stare at him, what a fine, decent, and handsome prince he was, unlike Joffrey, he deserves to live, he deserves the very best of the world and more. Across the room, Sansa and Shae were talking to each other. Occasionally you glanced at her.

“I don’t want us to die, Y/N.” Your baby brother said.

“We are not. I promise you, my little lion. Your big sister is here to protect you.” You squeezed his hand.

“I’m glad Myrcella is not here.”

“So am I.” Though you missed her every single day since she left King’s Landing, you knew she was safe, you were grateful that uncle Tyrion sent her away in time.

Suddenly you heard your mother’s voice calling for the Stark girl. She shyly stood in front of her. Perhaps Sansa was scared that Cersei would be angry to see her show devotion for you, she thought she might get scolded for staring at her daughter in a lingering way.

“I was wondering where our little dove has flown. You look pale, child. Is your red flower still blooming?”

“Yes.”

“Fitting, isn’t it? The men will bleed out there and you will bleed here. Pour Lady Sansa some wine.”

“I’m not thirsty, your grace.”

“So? I didn’t offer you water. Pour my daughter wine too.” The handmaid gave you the cups, you didn’t want to drink to be honest, just gave it a small sip, Sansa repeated your act. “I’m glad you didn’t insist on nonsense, my dear. War is no place for someone like you.” You scowled.

“That’s not the reason I’m not there.” Sansa saw you tensing, she changed the subject once you took another gulp of wine.

“What is he doing here?” Referring to the man that beheaded her father.

“Ser Ilyn? He’s here to defend us. When the axes smashes down those doors, you might be glad to have him.”

“I have my sword right here.” You grasped the cold weapon, resting in the armchair.

“After all that Jaime and Robert taught you you’ll be able to protect us all.” She scoffed. You waved off her comment.

“The lads caught a groom and two maids trying to sneak away with a stolen horse and some gold cups.” Ser Mandon Moore informed.

“The battle’s first traitors. Have Ser Ilyn see to them. Put their heads on spikes outside the stables as a warning.” She commanded him. “The only way to keep the small folk loyal is to make certain they fear you more than they do the enemy. Remember that if you ever hope to become a queen.”

“That’s a wrong understatement. Make them love you, not despise you.” You stated, not doubting of your words.

“You would definitively be a weak queen, my love.”

Everyone could already notice the Queen Regent was tipsy, maybe even drunk. She didn’t bring to care. Tommen fell asleep an hour ago, you didn’t want to let your guard down, in case you needed to run.

“Come, darling. Step closer. I know I’ve been hard on you. Lately it seems like you want to die. I can be a pain on your neck, but I can’t lose you, Y/N, I can’t.” She kinda sought to appease.

“It’s alright, mom. I’m still in one piece.”

“I have never been an example for you to follow.” You couldn’t get to the light all the faults she has had since you were a toddler, however, it wasn’t the time, nor was she in a position to talk about it.

“You can always start over.” It’s all you said back.

“She is very pretty, isn’t she?” You fixed your eyes on Sansa, she was holding hands with the other ladies, sitting in a circle on the floor. Some would say it was too obvious, your mother being one of them. You didn’t get to answer cause she was calling her once again.

“What are you doing?” Cersei asked, well knowing.

“Praying.” She plainly said.

“You’re perfect, aren’t you? Praying, what are you praying for?”

“For the gods to have mercy on us all.”

“Oh, on us all?”

“Yes, your grace.”

“Even me?”

“Of course, your grace.” You just listened to their conversation.

“Even Joffrey?”

“Joffrey is my-“

“Oh, shut up, you little fool. Praying for the gods to have mercy on us all. The gods have no mercy. That’s why they are gods. My father told me that when he caught me praying. My mother had just died. I didn’t really understand the concept of death, the finality of it. I thought that if I prayed hard enough the gods would return her to me. I was four.”

“Your father doesn’t believe in the gods?”

“He believes in them, he just doesn’t likes them very much. Y/N prays as well. But it’s okay as long as she knows who the real saviors are. Here.” She threw her a small pillow. “Another for her.”

“She doesn’t want to keep drinking, mother.” You spoke.

“Is that true, little dove?”

“I-I-“ Cersei was harassing her, the stutter gave her away, and you were growing weary of your mother’s behavior.

“You are just as frightened as this flock of hens. I should have been born a man. I rather face a thousand swords than to be shut up inside.”

“That was my intent too.” You objected.

“My daughter is gorgeous, don’t you think so? And she desires to spoil that face of hers out there.”

“Yes, your grace, she looks a lot like you.”

“Not the hair. These women. It was expected of me to ask them here. As it will be of you if you ever become Joffrey’s queen. If my wretched brother should somehow prevail, these hens will return to their cocks and crow of how my courage inspired them, lifted their spirits.”

“And if the city should fall?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? The Keep should hold for a time, if it were anyone else outside those gates I might hope for a private audience, but this is Stannis Baratheon. I’d have a better chance seducing his horse.” Sansa remained quiet. “Have I shocked you, little dove? Tears aren’t a woman’s only weapon. The best one’s between your legs. Learn how to use it. Do you have any notion of what happens when a city is sacked? No, you wouldn’t. If the city falls, these fine women should be in for a bit of a rape. Half of them will have bastards in their bellies come the morning. You’ll be glad of your red flower then. When a man’s blood is up, anything with tits looks good. A precious thing like you will look very, very good. A slice of cake just waiting to be eaten.” Cersei was tormenting Sansa because she wanted to bother you, upset you, and she achieved it, the uncomfortable look on the redhead's face was evident. She drank deeply from her glass.

“No one is going to rape Lady Sansa.” You promised, you wouldn’t let them get near her.

“Her hero will protect her. Yes. You, my sweet, sweet, silly daughter.” Cersei mocked, and Sansa flushed.

Cersei continued to tell Sansa stories about Jaime and her when they were children, you tried to distract yourself with your baby brother, you prayed for your uncle to succeed, for this to be over soon. You did not keep drinking, you were getting fond of wine, even ale. Now was not the moment to fill your veins with alcohol.

The Queen Regent apparently got curious about the foreign handmaiden, she didn’t act nervous, not even a bit, she asked her to tell a story, when Shae was about to begin Lancel burst in shouting at Cersei. He reported Tyrion’s destruction of the fleet and the landing of Stannis’s troops. She ordered him to fetch Joffrey inside.

“Your grace, what? The King’s presence is good for the morale.” He quibbled.

“Bring him back to his chambers now.”

“Not here?”

“With the women and children? Do you want him to be mocked as a coward for the rest of his life?”

“He is a coward.” You said out loud. She gave you a withering stare.

“Silence, Y/N.”

“Now, Ser Lancel.” He left, unconvinced. “Little dove, the real reason Ser Ilyn is here is for us. Stannis may take the city and the throne but he will not take us alive.”

The Lannister boy returned, he told the gold cloaks lost all heart when they saw Joffrey leaving. Cersei took both Tommen’s and your hand and rushed you off to the exit. Sansa tried to follow your gaze.

“What are you doing?” You baffling questioned.

“Buying us some time.”

“You can’t leave, these ladies-“

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” You got out of her grip.

“Are you coming back with her?” Your silence was the answer.

“Y/N, don’t go. I’m scared and if you are not with me-“ Tommen pleaded.

“My brave little lion. You are going to be just fine. You are very strong, just like father. I’ll be with you soon I promise.” You kissed his forehead. You didn’t look up to meet Cersei’s infuriated glare, you ran to Sansa’s room, where she must likely be.

You could never leave her behind. She was all that matters, Tommen will be safe with Cersei, she will defend him till her last breath. Something inside you told you uncle Stannis won’t be sitting on the throne tonight.

“...you won’t hurt me.” Sandor got there first, it was very odd, he seemed untroubled, under the circumstances of the battle. Sansa was relieved to see you.

“Of course he won’t.”

“No, princess, I won’t hurt her.” Sansa was holding the doll Ned gave her when they first arrived at King’s Landing.

“Why are you here?”

“Your big brother is a cunt. I won’t spend any other second of my life protecting a cunt. I wish you both good fortune, you might survive.” He walked out, leaving you alone with the northerner.

“Y/N... you came back. You must go with the Queen and the Prince.” You shook your head, taking her hand.

“No. My place is with you. I shall protect you and keep you from any harm. Remember, I’m not going anywhere.” She buried her face in your neck, the embrace was full of warmth. You laid in her bed, she gently placed her head on your chest. You were certain she could hear your shaky heartbeat, not for the war, nor for the fear but because of having her this close, you might as well confess your love right now, you don’t even know for sure if there is going to be a tomorrow.

She lifted her face, her eyes were dark, yours were too, there was only one thing you were dying to do. You softly caressed her cheek, your breaths became heavier, she closed her eyes and leaned closer, you sealed the kiss, her lips were oh so very thin, they were also edgy, a brief seconds later that changed, she deepened into it, melting your heart and body. Her hands resting in the back of your head and yours on her waist.

You smiled before the kiss ended, it felt like hours. You hope this is your last first kiss, with the woman you love. The bells rang again, you knew it was a sound of victory, you could tell the difference. Uncle Tyrion prevailed, you won.

“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Since the first day you came into my life.” You mumbled in Sansa’s ear.

“I can’t even put into words all the things you make me feel with just being around. You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known, and even that is an understatement.” She stuck her arm around you.

“You intoxicate my soul with your precious blue eyes, my lady.” You said in a playful, sweet tone.

“Is that a good thing?” You giggled.

“Yes, yes it is.” You stayed in the cozy bed for another while. This felt so good that a part of you didn’t believe it was actually happening.

A couple of days passed since the victory. Uncle Tyrion was unconscious. You hoped he’d wake up soon. Now you were all gathered on the Throne Room, you stood next to Lord Varys.

Joffrey proclaimed your grandfather, Tywin Lannister, the new Hand of the King, and the savior of the city. He also awarded Lord Baelish with the Castle of Harrenhal for brokering the alliance between House Lannister and House Tyrell.

Loras was called to step forward, he knelt before the throne. It was so good to see him again.

“If your family would ask anything of me, ask it, and it shall be yours.” Joffrey stated.

“Your grace, my sister Margaery, her husband was taken from us before. She remains innocent.” You could notice he was still grieving for Renly, you knew him too well. “I would ask you to find it in your heart to do us the great honor of joining our houses.” You weren’t utterly surprised by this request, Margaery has always dreamt of being Queen. Still, you found Sansa’s unreadable expression from atop de gallery. This was swelling news.

“...For the good of the realm, your councilors beg you to set Sansa Stark aside.” Your mother finished saying.

“I would like to heed your wishes and the wishes of my people, but I took a holy vow.”

“I have consulted with the High Septon and he assures me that the crimes of the Starks against the realm free you from any promise you have made to them in the sight of the gods.” Maester Pycelll concluded.

“The gods are good. I am free to heed my heart. Ser Loras, I will gladly wed your sweet sister. You will be my queen and I will love you from this day until my last day.” You were beyond happy for this but also you couldn’t help feel bad for Margaery, she was one of your best friends, you cared for her and now she is the one who will live hell with your brother. That is what she really wants, she’ll know how to handle it, you hope, maybe he’ll truly love her, in his odd own way. Your northerner lady was finally free from that horrendous engagement.

“Thank you for coming. You saved us, Loras. I’ll be forever in your debt.” You gave Loras a big hug, he reciprocated.

“You are like my little sister. If I can help I’ll always will.”

“I’m sorry about Renly.” He ducked his head.

“He was your uncle, Y/N. I am sorry too.”

“Y/N! It feels like it’s been ages, right? Always a pleasure to see you.” Margaery approached you and her brother.

“I can say the same. Congratulations on your betrothal to Joffrey, my lady.” She grinned widely.

“I don’t know him very well but if he is anything like you then I’ll be very happy.” You returned the polite smile. You better warn her, not today though.

“I’ve missed you so much. One of these days we should assemble and chat.”

“Absolutely.” You excused yourself, leaving Loras and Margaery a bit confused for your sudden departure. They shared a complicit gaze.

“Lady Sansa.” Littlefinger bowed and turned around. You don’t like him being near her, you waited until he disappeared into the crowd before addressing the Stark girl.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look with that southern hairstyle? It suits you perfectly.” She blushed.

“Have I told you you are the cutest girl in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond?” You chuckled. She smiled, it was an unburden one that you haven’t seen in a while. “Things will get better or worse from now on?”

“Don’t stress about the future, my lady. Live in the present and make the most of it.” You tenderly said.

“With you.”

“Yes, if it is with someone else I’ll get jealous.” You winked at her.

Only Varys, Podrick the squire, and Shae came to visit Tyrion. You of course went to check on him too, he did all the hard work, he defended the city when Joffrey fled the battlefield. Still, he didn’t even mention him.

“...The histories won’t mention you, but we will not forget.” Lord Varys assured your uncle.

“How are you feeling?” You entered the room.

“A Kingsguard almost split me in two. I am now the monster the world has always said I am.”

“No. You were amazing. You didn’t back down. You fought bravely to defend the ones you love. I won’t forget either.”

“Thanks, my dear Y/N. I wouldn’t let those bastards get to you. Is your lady okay?”

“She is. We will have to catch up, but that will be at another time. You need to rest to fully recover. Let’s don’t keep your lady waiting.” You alluded to Shae. At least he has various people who love him just the way he is.

In the next couple of weeks your relationship with Sansa evolved, you became closer, letting your feeling flow out without any shame, you love her in secret from Cersei and Joffrey, and the others who wouldn’t accept it, who would do anything to tear you apart. Things had changed, but for the better.

[shattered-mirror-fanfic]

Chapter 1 is out! Already working on chapter 2 but it may be a while. If you wish to reupload my work then please contact me first for my consent.

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32206135/chapters/79807672

Chapter below the cut for readers who don’t use Ao3:

The days ticked by, at a rate humans can't understand, all they know is that it's slow. But compared to the time other days tick by as, it is short, which no one can seem to get a grasp on. As the sun was ticking down, a group of four individuals, all connected by a large, officially interspatial, crime group, slowly walked up the large mountain, praying the days had ticked at a satisfactory rate, for them to reach the location of their desire. 

"So I was thinking...to spice things up a bit-" the oddly bobbing ghost started, before being cut off by their white-haired companion.

"For the last time, I'm happy with how everything is going. Now shut up!"

"Henry, you don't need to be so rude, I was just asking if you wanted to set up camp since sleeping beauty can't walk by himself anymore" Ellie chimed in.

"Uh, shucks, sorry Elles, I wasn't talking to you, I was talking to...a figment of my imagination, camp sounds great, we could use some rest!" Henry said apologetically, glancing at the air next to him when he said 'imagination'. Ellie chuckled and nodded as she spun around, somehow still walking, to speak up.

"Hear that boss? Someone actually agrees saying that we should rest!" She mocked as Right Hand Man's expression went from his usual scowl to a sour and bitter frown.

"I'm jus' saying! We're already close! It's not 'at further!" He barked back, still dragging his feet behind as he carried a half asleep Reginald on his back.

"Tell that to princess sleepy head!" The red-headed woman laughed in return. Roughly 18 minutes ago, Reginald was in a state of nearly passing out from exhaustion so his right hand man logically thought to carry him until reaching the cave they were meant to go to was impossible in that day's time frame. The unfortunate part was that their two underlings kept teasing Right's actions as though they are similar to what prince charming would do in fairy tales. But Right was not taking any of that bullshit, what he was doing was completely normal between two friends. 

“Right...we’re all tired, just put me down and let’s set up camp” Reginald tiredly chimed in. Right sighed and gave a low "fine…" before setting down the brunette. After taking a moment to regain his footing, Reginald stretched his arms before promptly asking, "So where shall we set up?"

"I think we should look for some sort of open area and just lay down some….." Henry began before cutting himself off.

"What? What's wrong?" Ellie asked before Henry stopped her from going any further. 

"Do you hear that?" Everyone froze, listening closely to what sounded like talking. It seemed like it was coming from just a bit further up the mountain, where the group was aiming to get to. 

"Permission to look ahead and potentially dispose of threats?" The ghost chimed in with a non-existent grin.

"Let's all go ahead together, stay close, and stay alert" Henry quietly told the others, ignoring the ghost's request. The group moved forward slowly, careful to not alert the people ahead.

~~~

The surface was great, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and on days like these, kids aged around 10 would be playing outside in the garden or at a friend's house, but frisk was not like other kids, while other kids were playing cops and robbers, frisk was saving monster society. It hadn't even been 20 minutes when the ambassador came across their first issue, 

Where would the monsters stay before they could join the humans in towns and cities?

 The idea that first came to mind was that until a place was established to be available for monsters, they would remain underground. It wasn't the best idea, but it was better than just letting them fend for themselves on the surface, plus, it would only be worse when other humans got involved. For now, the main issue was dealing with lodging for their friends that came with them in the first place.

And that is what they were doing. Right now the young child was sitting in front of the underground's exit, talking with Asgore, the king of the underground, and Dr. Alphys, the head royal scientist. They were mainly discussing how to proceed with getting the monsters a way to live with humans, with alphys there to bring in human facts that she knew (mainly from anime) on how they would react to such sudden actions. It seemed to be going…. neutral, no good ideas, and no bad truths. But logically, the lovely sunset ahead was rushing the discussion into being about setting up some sort of camp, which they neither had the materials for, nor the means to get some. It would be difficult to go back down to get supplies while having a logical enough excuse for others on why going to the surface is going to take longer. Regardless, those of Frisk’s new friends who had seen the surface would probably be against the idea of going underground again for a presumably long while, since it was at this point obvious that getting the monsters their own place on the surface would take months and months.

“Dang, only a miracle could be able to fix this, and what’s worse is the town of ebott is known for being a super anti-monster.” Chara stated while hovering next to Frisk. Frisk thought for a moment, a miracle could happen. Frisk knew it, something would happen. They were DETERMINED.

File Saved.

“Y’know, that’s not always gonna work Frisk, it was cute the first time, but now it’s-” Chara started, but as if on queue, there was the sound of something slipping on rock, a yelp, and a few loose rocks dropping down the mountain. Frisk, Chara, Asgore and Alphys immediately turned around to see 4 people, all with shocked and scared expressions on their faces.

“N-no way...it can’t be” Ellie said, staring in awe at the group. “I thought it was just legends, stories to scare kids who don’t behave…..”

“Ellie? What do you mean? Do you know something?” Henry asked, pulling his gaze away and towards his friend. She sighed and lowered her head.

“It’s long to explain but… I used to live in this town and there was a legend about monsters living under the mountain, I never knew it was real.” She explained.

“Well, it seems you all don’t mind that much.” Asgore chuckled.

“Don’t get used to it Mr. Asgore, not all humans act friendly at first.” Frisk chimed in.

“Eh, you all don’t seem like a threat, I don’t mind bein’ hospitable” Right Hand Man casually mentioned. This statement led to Henry and Ellie sarcastically gasping and giggling as they knew that Right was never the ‘hospitable’ type.

“Neither do I, I am Asgore the king of the monsters, and this is our ambassador, Frisk” Asgore said, gesturing to the young child. “And this is our royal scientist, Alphys.” Alphys gave a nervous wave.

“Pleasure to meet you, your highness. I am Reginald Copperbottom, leader of the Toppat clan. These are my employees, my Right Hand Man, Ellie Rose and Henry Stickmin.” Reginald introduced while bowing slightly (As a way of respect? Henry was puzzled by this, but the chief always had a tendency to be dramatic, so he shrugged it off). 

“Please Mr. Copperbottom, no need to be so formal, I understand the title is grand but it doesn’t suit me.” Asgore said with a soft voice.

“Of course, apologies, I normally default to being proper with new people.” Reginald corrected himself. 

“It’s no issue, it’s very welcoming to see such wonderful humans, even after my past opinions.” 

While the two leaders were busy discussing formality, Henry took it upon himself to chat with the ambassador. He walked over and sat down next to Frisk giving a calm smile before seeing a red glow behind the child. He looked and saw a ghost, a child whose appearance was similar to Frisk’s, with a few changes.

“Who’s that?” He asked, directing his gaze at the idling bobbing ghost, who was only paying attention once Henry pointed them out.

“You...can see them?” Frisk asked, shocked as no one else had been able to hear or see them.

“Yeah? Wait...did they die and through strong determination they’re now stuck to you?” Henry asked.

“Yeah! I was dead until I met Frisk!” Chara responded. Frisk nodded frantically, showing off their red soul. “How did you know this?!”

“I’m in a similar boat myself” Henry responded, slowing his words. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his own ghostly companion fluttering about like mad, shouting silently with their non-existent mouth. Henry stood up and walked to where the ghost was dramatically pointing at, only to be greeted by three familiar figures, dressed in their military best. They hadn’t noticed him, thank god, but this was still bad. His throat grew tight as it normally did under stress, he figured it was best in multiple cases to just sign. He picked up a rock and threw it at Reginald which hit the brunette with slight force. The chief turned around to see Henry frantically signing and gesturing around the curve that the group had originally taken. It took a minute but, after a few loops of the same signs he recognised, they were in danger.

“Ellie, Right, Henry is calling a code green, get your weapons drawn and stay quiet. Henry, I’m trusting you to keep the king, ambassador and doctor safe. Got it?” Reginald commanded in a whisper shout, pulling out the revolver he kept under his hats. The three nodded in response, each pulling out their own weapon, with Henry also rushing their new friends into the cave for cover. With a few skids of rocks from the government soldiers rounding the corner, it had begun, the fight that would set where the ending would start. The government may have had strong JUSTICE, KINDNESS and BRAVERY. The toppats would fight their hardest with the PATIENCE, PERSEVERANCE and DETERMINATION they had.

~~~

Mr. Williams sat there, staring at his mirror. He brushed his soft hand over the blue gems, chipped and shattered, yet still retaining their natural beauty. He smiled softly as he pulled his dark chocolate hair back into its usual ponytail before placing the mirror back on its wall. Walking over to the door, he smiled, he could tell from the graying clouds crossing past the mountain it was going to rain. He liked the rain, always so peaceful for a nice book and a cup of tea. He was in an earl grey mood, but he was also tempted to have some coffee.

~~~

It seemed easy enough, the toppats had been practising soul magic for a while at this point, and they had the advantage in numbers. But, the government came prepared with better weapons, especially made with intent on doing damage to souls. That fight had been going on for about 15 minutes at this point with neither side taking major damage. At this point something in the fight needed to change or it would be a will of who gave up first. The government’s side had a secret advantage that was making things easier for them, and that was Charles Calvin, a  KINDNESS soul who has rather low level healing magic, but healing magic non the same. That was what was making things so difficult, until Ellie used her own magic and COORDINATED a plan.

“Aim for Calvin, right on the top of his headphones, that’ll distract Galeforce and the other one and I’ll get a clean shot” She whispered to Reginald, as both were ducked behind a rock that had fallen during the chaos. Her boss nodded and sat up aiming for the center of Charles’s headphone, perched exactly above his blonde hair. It felt like time was slowed, as he pulled the trigger, sending a bullet speeding ahead, grazing the red artificial leather on top. As the bullet raced by it grabbed the attention of the three soldiers, as well as Right Hand Man, distracting them long enough so Ellie could make her move. She pulled out her own gun and shot at Rupert, managing to hit him just below the liver a few times. He let out a loud yelp as he fell over and clutched his side. With a sorrowful expression the general declared,

“You won’t get away with it next time!” He shouted as he picked up his subordinate. Ellie and Reginald rose from their spots and walked forward, watching in a sort of victory as the pilot helped the general pick up their wounded comrade. 

“Hell yeah we will! You’re just lucky you chose to run!” Ellie cheerfully yelled out in response to the general’s statement. 

“Still don’ see why we have to spare ‘em. Would’ve been more beneficial to just end ‘em.” Right Hand Man mentioned to Reginald. “Seriously, we’re jus’ gettin ourselves into a bigger mess, an them bastards aren’t worth pissin on to put out fire on ‘em.” 

“Righty, it’s only fair that we spare them, none of us got hurt.” Reginald spoke in response. Rupert turned his head to stare at the criminal brunette, who dared to pity them after nearly shooting one of their best pilots. With what little strength he could, he gripped his pistol, and raised his arm.

“That’s…..what you thought...asshole,”

[cirrius-akiyo]

50* + buddie sorry but if you want to write both that is okay with me hehe

Read in AO3

@buckleysjareau , I couldn't help myself but to do both 49 and 50 from the Fluff/Angst Prompts List

I hope you'll enjoy this as much as I enjoy writing it.

Thank you for the prompts. 🤗🤩

The moment Eddie agreed to throw himself into the underground fighting scene, he never thought in a million years he would get addicted to the adrenaline roaring through his vein with every punch that followed. Eddie thought he would be able to quit anytime he wanted to, because he was still in control, he needed to be in control. He woke up every morning convincing himself that those days would be his last in the scene, that he would stop when he could, that he would not let himself astray more than it was, but every triumph and money stacks he received at the end of his wins made it harder and harder to quit.

Of course, things got out of hand because the next thing he knew, his opponent was not breathing and Eddie knew without intervention, the man was as good as dead. Calling for an ambulance to the scene was a risky move, but deep inside he knew he is a firefighter first, and so he braced himself for the consequences as he dialed the 9-1-1. Consequences that include exposing himself open in front of Bobby, confronting the ghost of his stewed anger towards Shannon and towards himself. Consequences that had forced him to talk with Frank, leaving out all of his skeletons and miles long disappointments for a stranger to see.

Now, the consequences of his bad decision had come back to taunt him yet again, forcing him to wait once more at the wrong side of the hospital room.

Moving Christopher’s weight from one side to the other, Eddie wipes away the stray tear stains painted on his son’s face who has his head cradled at the crook of Eddie’s shoulder, still sobbing silently. The hushed sobs compel Eddie to stifle his own as he inspects the gauze on Chris’ left elbow, examining his own aching knuckles.

Eddie’s focus shifted from their minor injuries as he looks up at the direction the clicking sound of booted footsteps belongs to none other than Sergeant Athena Grant, who is walking towards them with urgency and purpose.

“How is he doing?” Athena queries as she takes a sit beside Eddie, her back stiffs against the hard chair, staying alert with any impending news.

Eddie purses his lips and spats bitterly in a hushed whisper, “Are you asking about Chris or Buck?” Because right now, both of them are far from being okay by Eddie’s definition. Hell, he himself is far from okay at the moment, so excuse him for struggling to contain his emotion.

But credit to Athena, she does not sway a bit with his little outburst and simply clarifies, “both.”

“Sorry.” Eddie exhales roughly, wiping his face with his free hand.

Athena smiles empathetically. “Don’t be. We are all strung out with the news. I have talked with Maddie and Bobby. She will be here soon. The rest of the team will come once their shift is over.”

Eddie nods, grateful for her help because the thought of calling Maddie or the team totally skipped his mind with his sole focus fixed on his family and their safety. “Chris got some bruise on his elbow when he skinned himself falling down. Other than that, he’s quite shaken up. Buck on the other hand,” Eddie paused, pushing the queasy feeling down before continues, “he was barely responsive when they brought him in. The doctor said something about possible concussion and broken ribs.” Eddie breaks his eye contact with Athena, not wanting her to see his brimming tears.

“How about you, Eddie?”

“What about me?” Eddie retorts defensively, pulling Christopher tighter into his embrace, as if he is ready to pick up the boy and run away, away from this mess and nightmare.

“As far as I’m concern, you’re a victim too in this attack. So, tell me, how are you doing?” She repeats herself, demanding for a no-bullshit answer.

“I’m fine. Buck took the brunt of it.” That is definitely a ‘bullshit’ answer.

Athena arches an eyebrow, giving Eddie a skeptical look but does not pries further on the subject.

Instead, she proceeds with her business with, “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

There it is, the million-dollar question Eddie has been dreading the moment he saw Athena walked down the corridor. Because to answer her questions, Eddie needs to relive the hellish moment again, visiting his past mistake and he is not sure if he has the gut to do it.

“Can we please do this after Tia Pepa picks up Christopher?” Eddie tries to compromise, ignoring how broken his voice sounds, because he really doesn’t want to subject Chris through the torment again.

Athena nods in understanding. “Sure. I’ll wait right here with you, or do you want to be alone?” She asks as she changes her posture, preparing to leave if Eddie wanted her to.

“No, stay please. I don’t want to be alone.” Eddie pleads, not sure what comes over him as the words leave his mouth.

“Sure, honey.” Athena relaxes in her seat, but her keeping her guarding stance.  

 

///

 

“Are you ready, Eddie?” Athena starts, pulling out her notepad and pen.

Eddie nods, not trusting his words now because he would never be ready. All his life, he never would imagine himself being a victim, having caring countless victims in his few years of service, but today’s incident has changed the narrative.

“Do you recognize who hurt you? Hurt Chris and Buck?”

“Yeah. He uh… I uh… fought him once… during the street fighting, and uh, he lost quite a big sum that day.” Eddie grits his teeth, nausea building up behind his throat as he remembered the thrills he felt when he received the winning stacks, the elated face of Christopher when he bought him the latest Lego set using the bloody money. 

“Do you have a name?” Athena proceeds stoically, not a bit fazed by Eddie’s dirty little secret.

“Jake…um, Jake Woodson? I think so, yeah.”

“How about you tell me what went down from the beginning.”

Eddie shuts his eyes, trying to recall the mirage of the daunting memories. He could feel his palm getting sweaty under the visible stress. He really doesn’t want to do this, but the son of a bitch needs to pay for hurting his family, and so Eddie perseveres.

“We were at the park. The one near the firehouse.”

*

“It’s getting dark. You think it’s time to go home yet?” Buck asked as he shoved his hands into the pocket of his brown jacket.

“Yeah. I think we burn enough of Chris’ energy for today. I’m tucking him tonight.” Eddie smiled cheekily at the prospect of Chris easily falling asleep.

Buck pouted. “You always tucked him in when he already burned out. It’s not fair,” the man half grumbled.

Eddie chuckled heartily, grabbing Buck’s elbow as they strutted towards Chris who was still immersed feeding the ducks. “But you love it.”

“I do, but we are stopping by the McDonald’s afterwards.” Buck flashed him an evil grin.

“No, we aren’t.” Eddie chastised.

“Hey Chris! How does a McFlurry sounds?” The shouts caught Chris’s attention right away and he beamed at the promise of dessert.

“You vile, vile man.”

“You love me.”

“I know I do.”

*

“We were walking back to our truck when he approached.” Eddie continues.

“Jake Woodson?”

Eddie grimaced at the name, but nods in confirmation.

“So, what happened then?” Athena prods as she tries to paint a clearer picture of the incident.

“We were completely blindsided. I was about to help Chris into his seat when suddenly this man shoved me to the ground, bringing Chris down with me. That’s how Chris…” Eddie gestures to his left elbow, hoping Athena would comprehend.

*

“Hey! Get away from my family!” Buck growled before pushing the man away from Eddie and Chris who were still stunned on the ground.

The man, who Eddie swears got bigger from the last time Eddie saw him, sneered at Buck and before Eddie could warned his husband, Jake grabbed Buck’s head and smashed it hard to the side of their truck, painting the metal red.

Eddie screamed as Buck collapsed in a heap, his face scrunched in a mixture of daze and pain as blood sluggishly trickled down his temple.

*

Eddie lets out a harsh sigh, looking down at the tear drops staining his jeans.

“Do you want to take a break?” Athena places her hand on the sobbing man’s shoulder.

Eddie shakes his head. He wants to get this done and over with.

“I want to help Buck, but Christopher was crying behind me. I couldn’t simply leave him alone. What if Jake attacked him?” Eddie sheds angrily at the tears that doesn’t seem to be stopping.

The torn feelings he had felt at that time was agonizing.

“So, I…I pushed Chris to hide behind the truck…oh God! I should help Buck faster! I should...I should…,” Eddie breaths bleakly at the thought as he shuts his eyes close, trying to replay the moment where he could do better.

Athena immediately kneels in front of Eddie, trying to calm down the man who is now borderline hyperventilating. “Eddie, Eddie! Listen to me. Listen. What you did was right. Buck would want you to put Christopher’s safety first.”

Eddie inhales, feeling his breaths stutter in his chest.

“You have to breath. Calm down now, Eddie. What you’ve been through is traumatic, but you have to breath.”

Eddie tries his darndest best to hold himself together.

“That’s right. Keep breathing, Eddie.”

“Okay. Okay.” Eddie chokes back the sobs.

“Are you good to continue?” Athena eyes him.

Eddie nods feebly as he levels down his breathing pace.

“When I got to them, Jake was kicking Buck in the chest.” Eddie swallows hard, recalling how Buck tried to cover his head and chest in a losing fight. “I threw some punches but he won’t relent. Keep snarking about how I should lose everything too like he did.”

“Do you know what that means?” Athena asks further as she jots down Eddie’s statements.

Eddie shrugged, completely clueless. “I don’t know. I just know that I won big that day. I haven’t fight him again afterwards.” He hangs his head low as shame and guilt slithers up his spine.

Eddie is pulled out of his self-loathing when he heard a female doctor asks, “family of Evan Buckley-Diaz?”

Both of them stand up in record time, meeting the doctor halfway who is smiling softly, but Eddie does not dare to let his heart hope, not until he could see Buck is alive and well for himself. Because the last time Eddie saw Buck, the love of his life was half-conscious with blood covering most of his face.

“I’m his husband. Is he okay?” In any other circumstances, Eddie is always proud to tell anybody who is asking that Buck is in fact his husband, but never like this. Not in this sterile hospital corridor surrounded by death and diseases.

“Your husband is going to be just fine.” She starts off with assuring note before continues, “he sustained a nasty concussion and two broken ribs, but he is very lucky there is no internal bleeding, neither in the head nor chest, just some major bruising. Head wound tends to bleed a lot, a fact that I’m sure both of you are familiar with.”

“Can I see him?” His voice timid. The smile that never leaves the young doctor’s face did little to nothing in comforting his racing heart.

“Of course, but he is asleep now. He will be disoriented and most likely in pain when he wakes up later, but other than that, he should recover just fine with plenty of rest.” The doctor finishes off cheerily.

Eddie lets out a breath he didn’t realize he’s holding. Buck is fine. He is fine. Buck is alive. The mantra resonates throughout his body, vibrating at a wild pace throughout each cell.

But he is pulled out of his stupor when Athena pats his back. “I knew his thick skull would come in handy sometimes.” She chuckles wetly, and Eddie swears he saw the Great Athena Grant sheds a tear.

 

///

 

It was almost midnight when Buck stirs groggily, whining unhappily at the assault of pain his body is experiencing.

Eddie approaches his husband almost immediately, calming the struggling man in a hush manner. “Easy Buck.”

At the mention of his name, Buck looks up hazily towards the caramel-brown eyes that hold his world. “Y‘kay? C’ris?” He slurred, flinching as he tries to swallow.

Eddie lets out a wet laugh at Buck’s question as he fetches the water and guiding his husband for small sips.

“We are both okay. Some bruises, but you’re the one who manages to land on this beautifully crafted hospital bed.” Buck doesn’t seem to miss the broken notes in the man’s jesting laugh, but he chooses to let it slides as he turns his head around the room, noting the absence of their son.

Seeing the confusion on Buck’s face as he starts to thrash around, Eddie know exactly who is Buck looking for. “Chris is at Abuela’s. He’s fine.” Eddie emphasis on the word ‘fine’, just so Buck would calm down in his bed.

Yet Buck gives him an unimpressed look, sensing some omission of facts through Eddie’s cracked voice.

Eddie sighs dejectedly. All the time they have spent together, obviously Buck could easily read through his lies even in his groggy state.

“Just some bruises when he fell, I promise.” Eddie confessed. “But you on the other hand…” Eddie tries to find the right word that won’t hurt so much, but suddenly his eyes starts to dampen again.

This time, in the private company of his lover and away from judging eyes, Eddie couldn’t help himself but to cry.

“I almost lost you so many times before, but nothing compares of almost losing you because of my own stupid mistake. I am so sorry, Buck. I swear I never thought it would come down to this.”

“Eddie, I’ll do it all over again just so you and Chris will be safe.” Buck’s voice is definitely stronger and Eddie wonders where does Buck pulls the strength from, because right now Eddie is feeling weak on his knees himself and if he had not been sitting, he would definitely collapse. As his tears fall free, Buck seems to be more alert than before and Eddie couldn’t help but to feel ashamed his outburst has ripped Buck from his well-deserving rest.

“Do you think I’m broken? Because you’re the one on the hospital bed, but here I am struggling to contain myself when I should be the strong one.” Eddie hangs his head low as more broken sobs escapes him.

“Eddie, look at me.” Buck cups Eddie’s chin with his right hand, wary of the IV lines as he pulls his lover’s face towards him. “Eddie, nothing is wrong with you. Struggling is what we do best, and people like you and me struggle because we care, we’re not giving up and we’re trying to stay afloat. Am I wrong?”

Eddie tries to look away, but Buck's face and arched eyebrow say that he demands a response. 

“No, you’re not. You’re right.” Eddie lets out a small smile at Buck’s words of affirmation.

“Heck yeah, I’m right. I choose to marry you and I’ve chosen to stay with you throughout your struggles.” Buck plops down on the pillow. “But for now, I’m struggling to stay awake. Get in here with me?” Buck scoots over and pulls his blanket to make space for his husband, careful of the lines  and wires hanging around him.

“I’m sure it will be a tight squeeze.” Eddie shakes his head affectionately at Buck’s proposal, not that he would fight it much if Buck insists.  

“Please. I sleep easier with you close to me.” And there is the puppy eyes attack and Eddie finally relents as he climbs onto the bed gingerly, trying not to jostle Buck’s ribs much.

“Athena was here. She said your thick skull is what saved you.” Eddie whispers against Buck’s shoulder, basking in the warmth that seeps through the thin hospital gowns.

Buck only smiles at the remarks, already half asleep.

Eddie knows he should update their family soon, but that is for future him to handle, because right now, he just wants this moment to be just for the two of them.

“I love you and all your struggles too.” One last confession before both of them paddles through their dreamland.

[helloalycia]

solar flare // kara danvers

SUMMARY: Unaware that your girlfriend is Supergirl, things get a little confusing when she gets into an accident that should have threatened her life.

WARNING/S: mentions of death.

Author's note: this has been sat in my drafts for a looooong time, along with a bunch of other stuff that I'll probably be putting out over the next few days. Sorry it's a little shit lol 

masterlist

       I felt my dreamscape fading as I realised somebody was shuffling next to me, eventually making me open my eyes tiredly. I realised it was Kara, evidently uncomfortable, trying to find a comfortable position. I groaned quietly, trying to wake myself up a little more so I could ask her what's wrong.

       "Sorry," she whispered, sounding exhausted.

      "Mmmt's okay," I mumbled incoherently, before motioning for her to come closer.

      She instantly moved towards me, tucking her head into the crook of my neck. I wrapped my free arm around her waist, resting my hand on the slight exposed skin where the hem of her shirt was. I heard her breathe out contently and I pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head before trying to fall asleep again.

      That morning, I ended up waking up before Kara, so I did my usual boring routine before deciding to cook some breakfast for us both. It didn't take long and by the time I was done, Kara walked into the kitchen area, a sleepy smile on her lips.

      "Good morning," she said, approaching me with open arms.

      I accepted her hug with a smile, kissing her cheek before saying, "Morning, sleepyhead. I made breakfast."

      "I can see that," she noted, staring out at the island, where everything was. "You didn't need to do that."

      I ushered her to take a seat as I said, "It's nothing special unfortunately. Just some eggs and whatnot. Buuuuut I figured since I'm here, I may as well make the effort. It might make you reconsider about us moving in together."

      Kara sighed, massaging her forehead with discomfort. "Y/N..."

      "If it's about staying in your flat, I'm completely okay with it," I added hopefully. "I mean, of course I'll miss my place, but if it means I get to see you every day then it's worth it, right?"

      "Y/N, please, not today," she said, giving me a pleading look. "I'm just... I'm not in the mood."

      I breathed out slowly. "Right, sorry."

      Kara and I had been together for almost two years and I had proposed the idea of us moving in together a few months ago, since we pretty much spent most nights together anyway. I was instantly met with rejection, Kara claiming she wasn't ready. At first, I respected her decision, hoping it was just nerves and she'd eventually come around, but I was still waiting for the latter to happen.

      I served up breakfast and the two of us sat there in an awkward silence, until I finally decided to say something.

      "We still on for drinks with my friends after work?" I asked, glancing up at the quiet blonde.

      Kara's expression told me everything I need to know - she'd forgotten. After swallowing a sip-full of orange juice, probably to buy time, she nodded. "Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be there."

      "You sure?"

      She nodded. "Of course."

      "If you're not up for it, it's fine," I said, giving her a knowing look.

      "I said I'll be there," she promised, dropping her fork to grab my hand and give it a supportive squeeze. "I'm not feeling well, but I'm sure it'll pass. Sorry for being off this morning... you hate me?"

      I gave her a small smile, unable to resist her adorable sparkling blue eyes. "I could never."

***

      "...it worked out though because I got the promotion, so yeah, that's how I got here," Y/BF/N finished explaining with a bright smile.

      "She says it so simply, but it took a lot of hardworking and perseverance on her part," her boyfriend, Hasan, added, making me laugh.

      "Oh, shut up," Y/BF/N said with a blushing face, nudging her boyfriend in the arm.

      I smiled at the two of them, admiring how cute they looked. I was having a long overdue catch up with my best friend and also meeting her new boyfriend. Well, they'd been together for almost six months, but he'd been on a business trip, so I was only just now meeting him. Kara was here, too, as promised, but she was acting a little off, worrying me a little. She was usually a bubbly personality, especially when it came to Y/BF/N, but all she'd been doing this evening was giving one-word responses and playing with my hand under the table.

      "You guys want any more drinks? I'm gonna get another," I said, already standing up.

      "Yeah sure, same again if you don't mind," Y/BF/N said.

      "Thanks," Hasan added, nodding.

      "Same again, got it," I said, before looking to Kara. "C'mon, Kara, you can give me a hand."

      She seemed reluctant, but nodded and allowed me to drag her away from the table and to the bar. I ordered the drinks as Kara spoke.

      "Did you really need my help to carry two drinks?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

      I gave her a knowing look. "Kara, I asked for you help because I want to know what's wrong with you."

      "What do you mean?"

      "Kara, you know what I mean," I said. "You're acting weird and the others are beginning to notice. What's wrong?"

      She sighed, frowning and avoiding my eyes. "I don't really want to be here..."

      "Here's your drinks, Miss," the bartender said, pushing two glasses towards me.

      "Cheers." I nodded his way before looking back to Kara with worried eyes. "I asked you this morning if you were still up for it. And again before we came in here."

      "I know, but I just don't feel well," she admitted, giving me an apologetic glance, "and you were really looking forward to tonight."

      I grabbed her hand, squeezing it gently. "Kara, I'm sorry if I made you feel like you had to come tonight. That wasn't my intention"

      "You didn't," she reassured, meeting my eyes.

      "Well, either way, I think we can call it a night," I said, giving her a small smile.

      "You don't have to leave just because of me-"

      "It's okay," I cut her off, grabbing the drinks from the bar. "Come on. Let's go back to mine."

      She followed me to the table and I set the drinks down before grabbing my jacket.

       “I'm really sorry, guys, but Kara isn't feeling too good, so I think we're gonna call it a night," I said with an apologetic smile. "It was really great to catch up though, and of course, to meet you Hasan."

      "Aw, okay, I hope you feel better, Kara," Y/BF/N said, standing up and pulling us both in for a hug. "It was nice to see you both again."

      "Thanks," Kara said, forcing a small smile.

      "It was a pleasure, ladies," Hasan said, giving us a quick hug. "Hopefully we can meet again soon."

      "Of course," I agreed, looking between them, before putting some money on the table. "Drinks are on me. Enjoy yourselves."

      Kara and I left the bar, only to find ourselves in some terrible weather. It was chucking it down, making us both stay standing under the the umbrella extending from the roof of the bar.

      "Damn, okay, this isn't going to help with you not feeling well," I muttered, glancing out at the road to see if I could spot a taxi. I looked to Kara, saying, "Just wait here. I'm gonna try and get a taxi for us."

      Kara nodded and I headed out from the umbrella, feeling the cold rain smack down on me harshly. I sighed and stood on the edge of the pavement, looking out to see if I could spot a taxi in the distance. Eventually, in the darkness, I could spot the familiar yellow bumper of a taxi under the nearest street lamp, so I raised my hand to get its attention. It flashed its headlights briefly, so I lowered my hand and watched as it came to stop by me, except as it tried to pull over to the side, its tyres skidded in the rain and propelled the car towards at me at a dangerous speed.

      I barely had the chance to register what was happening because everything moved so fast. One second I was stood at the edge of the pavement with headlights beaming at me, and the next I was on the wet ground, trying to understand why people were shouting around me.

      "Miss, are you okay? Can you hear me?"

      I looked up and saw a stranger trying to help me stand up. I looked around with confusion, only to see a few people gathered around a body in front of the taxi. A few more people were helping the taxi driver out of his cab and I realised that I was about to get hit, but someone had pushed me out the way. Wait a minute...

      "Kara?!" I yelled, shoving the stranger out of my way to see if Kara was where I left her, but she wasn't.

      I immediately ran over to the body in front of the taxi and felt my heart drop to the pit of my stomach when I saw the state she was in.

      "Kara, oh my god, no, Kara," I cried out, kneeling by her side.

      She was bleeding from her head, it soaking into her wet hair. The rain was washing the blood into a puddle all around her, which made me see the odd angle her leg was twisted in.

      "Please open your eyes," I begged, my own eyes blurring with tears. I cupped her face, hoping she'd wake up, but I knew it was impossible. I leaned down and held my breath, hoping she would breathe to let me know she was alive. After what felt like forever, I felt a tickle against my skin, and I sat up with relief.

      "We've called an ambulance, Miss," someone said from behind me, but I couldn't formulate a response because I was too focused on how pale Kara was getting as each second passed.

      The ambulance arrived soon enough, but I couldn't remember the specifics because it went by in a blur. They were hooking Kara up to a bunch of machines and it was frightening me, seeing her look so vulnerable. I must have called Alex at one point during the ride because when I got to the hospital and ushered to the waiting room, Alex was already there.

      When she saw me, she immediately came to give me a reassuring hug.

      "I'm sorry, Alex, I don't know why she did that," I rambled out, feeling the guilt sink in. "She said she didn't want to come and I shouldn't have made her because then we wouldn't be in this mess. I'm so sorry."

      Alex grabbed my arms and looked me in the eyes. "Y/N, calm down, it's okay. You can't blame yourself for what happened. But I need you to listen carefully, okay?"

      I nodded, still feeling discomfort in my gut.

      "I'm going to talk to Kara's doctors and get her transferred," she explained.

      I furrowed my brows. "Transferred? Why would you do that?"

      "I'll explain after, I just need you to stay calm and know that Kara will be okay."

      I shook my head. "Alex, she looked really bad. I'm scared that... I don't know."

      "I promise you she's going to be fine," she said confidently. "Now, I'm gonna talk to the doctors and when I get back, we're gonna take a drive."

      "Alex-"

      "Trust me, Y/N," she said, giving me a slight nod before leaving me standing in the waiting room, wondering what the hell was happening.

      Alex returned, as promised, and she led me to her car before driving us to God knows where. I tried to get some answers out of the older Danvers sister, but she refused to budge and insisted I'd find out eventually. So, I was left to worry about Kara's life and wondering why Alex was so sure she'd be okay. It was her little sister and she didn't even seem concerned?

      We reached our destination soon enough and I grew confused as I saw how secure this location was. I'd probably walked by this building so many times, yet never questioned its existence. I'd apparently never noticed the armed guards at the doors either.

      "Come on, this way," Alex finally spoke when we left the car.

      I sucked up a shaky breath and wiped away at my tears as I followed her through the building. The guards by the door seemed to know who she was as they straightened up with respect and let her pass. We took a lift up to which Alex seemed nervous, glancing my way every now and then. I desperately wanted to ask her where we were and if Kara was here, too, but I knew she'd give me the same response each time, so I stayed quiet.

      Finally, the doors opened and I widened my eyes with surprise, taking in the vast room before me. There were people dressed in uniform all around, some at control panels and their attention focused on the giant monitors on the wall, others walking around with serious expressions.

      I followed Alex like a lost lamb, letting her lead me up some stairs onto the balcony above. I tried to look around the room for a symbol or a logo - something that would tell me where we were, but I couldn't find anything distinguishable. I continued to follow Alex until we reached a room with glass windows, allowing me to see inside. I did a double take when I realised Kara was inside, laying on a bed, motionless.

      "Kara!" I shouted, already running inside to her bedside.

      I startled some of the (what I'm guessing are) nurses, as they moved out of my way. Alex waved her hand, signalling for them to leave.

      "Why is she here?" I asked, worriedly, realising she wasn't in surgery or being treated for her visible injuries. "What's this...?" I motioned to the light sources above her, emitting some sort of yellow light on her pale skin. "She should be in surgery or something. Alex!"

      I looked over my shoulder to see Alex stepping by my side, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and leading me away from her bedside for the moment. I wiped away my tears and waited for an explanation.

      "I know you're confused and you're scared, but Y/N, I need you to listen to me," Alex spoke calmly, never breaking eye contact. I nodded as she continued. "As crazy as this sounds, you need to believe what I'm about to say. Kara needs you to."

      "Alex, you're starting to scare me," I said, feeling shivers run down my spine. "What's wrong with Kara?"

      Alex bit her lower lip before taking a breath. "Remember how I said Kara is gonna be fine?" I nodded as she continued, "Well, she is. She looks battered and bruised now, but it's because she exerted her powers and has momentarily lost them. A solar flare."

      I stared at Alex like she was a ghost. "What the hell are you talking about?" I was convinced she'd lost her mind at this point. Maybe it was the shock of Kara's accident or something, but she was definitely not making sense.

      "Y/N, Kara is Supergirl," she said bluntly. "The reason she's been off lately is because she's been agitated that she doesn't have her powers and she can't help people."

      I gave her a confused look. "Alex, you sound insane!"

      "Look, we're at the DEO," she continued to explain, not fazed by my judgemental expression. "I'm the director. We work to handle any extra-terrestrial threats invading our planet and we do that with the help of Supergirl."

      I felt my heart rate increasing with every word she spoke. I could barely keep up with what she was saying.

      "My parents adopted Kara when she landed on Earth," she explained, and I tried to understand. "She wears those glasses to hide her identity and to help with her x-ray vision."

      "X-ray vision?" I squeaked helplessly.

      She nodded. "Yes. I can even show you the suit, but Y/N, I'm telling you this because I need you to understand that Kara will be fine. She's technically vulnerable like a human, but as soon as her powers come back, she'll heal with those UV lamps and be absolutely fine."

      Alex searched my eyes to see what I was thinking. I stared at her, letting her words digest, before finally speaking.

      "Please tell me you're joking."

      She groaned, before grabbing my shoulders. "Y/N! Look at her!" She twisted me around, forcing me to look at Kara. "She's Supergirl! You have to believe me."

      I knew she was right, as much as I didn't want to admit it. If I admitted it, it meant that she didn't trust me with her secret and that she made me worry for her life when she would be fine this whole time.

      "She didn't tell me," I finally spoke, my voice barely above a whisper.

      I calmed down a little, reassured that she would be okay, but that didn't change the fact that I thought she was going to die not long ago. I felt like hot water bubbling over, trying to settle after someone turned the gas off, but I couldn't quite keep up.

      "I'm sure she had her reasons, Y/N," Alex began sympathetically, but I cut her off.

      "How do I get out of here?" I asked, tearing my gaze away from Kara and looking to Alex.

      "You're leaving?" Alex sounded surprised.

      "She'll be fine, right?" I asked and Alex nodded, about to respond, but I rolled my eyes and gave her a sarcastic smile. "Of course she will be - she's the Girl of Steel! Now, how do I get out of here?"

      "Y/N, come on," Alex tried to reason.

      "Come on what? She didn't-" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "She didn't tell me. There's nothing more to say. Now, please let me go home."

      Alex searched my eyes for something more, and when she found nothing, she sighed and nodded before leading me out. I glanced at Kara one last time, feeling distaste at the thought of everything that had just happened, before following Alex.

***

      I found myself lounging on my couch the next day, sulking into a bowl of popcorn as I watched The Office reruns. I was trying to use the show as a distraction, but all that was on my mind was Kara. I tried to imagine her as Supergirl, remembering all those times I'd seen the hero on the news or flying in the sky. That was her.

      All those times when she'd bail on a date last minute, or when she'd leave a date early... it made sense. Why she didn't like the idea of taking a mini vacation with me, or sleeping over at hers all the time. I thought it was a weird quirk of hers, or that she was insecure about something, but no, she was too busy flying around National City.

      And that explained why she didn't want to move in together. She hadn't told me the truth about her, so moving in and seeing her act even more secretive would raise questions. Here was me thinking she was losing interest, but no, she was hiding a huge part of herself.

      I constantly tried to wonder why she didn't trust me. I mean, almost two years of being together was a long time. I thought I knew everything about her and vice versa. Why was this any different? I could care less if she was an alien and she knew that, so what was the reason?

      Kara let me believe she was human. Vulnerable, breakable and soft, like me. She got hit by a car and let me believe, even for a moment, that she could have died. That it would have been my fault that she died, or at least, suffered major injuries. She let my mind run around with those horrible thoughts and scenarios, let it break me apart as I watched her limp, bruised and battered body lying on the wet tarmac.

      She didn't tell me the truth.

      I groaned loudly and stuffed more popcorn into my mouth when I realised I was getting stuck in my thoughts all over again - the same thoughts that had kept me up all night. I tried to focus my attention on what was happening on the TV when I heard a knock on my door.

      I rolled my eyes and glanced at the door before choosing to ignore whoever it was and wallow in my own self-pity.

      "Y/N, I know you're in there!" a voice called from the other side of the door, and I recognised it as Kara's.

      I clenched my jaw and ignored her.

      "I can see you watching TV," she said in a hushed voice. "Please open the door. I have to explain."

      "That must be the x-ray vision, right?" I called back, bitterly.

      I heard her sigh. "If you don't open the door, I'm gonna come in."

      "That would be breaking in," I reminded her, before getting comfortable on the couch. "Go away."

      It went quiet and I assumed she'd listened, but then I heard a loud crack. I looked to the door with a puzzled expression and stared wide-eyed at Kara, who had twisted the door knob enough to break the lock. She stepped in and pulled a face at the slight crack in the lock.

      "I'll get that fixed, I swear," she said quickly, glancing up at me.

      "You can't just break into somebody's home like that!" I yelled at her, standing up to glare at her.

      "You're not somebody," she pointed out, closing the door behind her, "and I told you I would come in."

      I crossed my arms across my chest, narrowing my glare. Admittedly, I was taken aback by the lack of injuries she had. Or should I say absence of injuries. I knew Alex said she would heal like nothing had happened, but it was different to see it with my own two eyes. It was like the accident had't happened. The colour was back in her skin, her head wasn't bleeding, she was walking. She looked as good as new, save for the sudden super strength I had just witnessed. Another thing I should have expected but was still surprised to see.

      "I have to explain myself," she began, carefully.

      "Alex caught me up on everything," I said angrily, "Supergirl."

      She frowned, looking down at her shoes guiltily. "I wanted to tell you, Y/N."

      I raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Was that before or after you almost died? Because saving an important piece of information like the fact that you're fucking indestructible would have been nice to know before I thought you were going to die because of me!"

      "Y/N-"

      "No!" I shouted, feeling my eyes grow watery at the reminder of last night. "You let me believe the worst, Kara! I thought you were going to die! You didn't see what I saw, okay?! There was blood and there- there were so many scratches and the puddle was turning r-red and I thought you were leaving me and it- it would be my fault because I made you come to see my friends and- and- and-"

      "Y/N, it's okay," she cut in, moving forward to stand me up straight.

      I was crying, I realised, my throat closed up and my vision blurred. I was too upset to push her away, and the warmth coming from her skin reminded me that she was here and alive and well, only intensifying my sobs.

      "Y-you should have told me," I cried into her shoulder. "I thought you were going to leave me."

      She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed gently, reassuringly. "I know," she agreed, her voice hoarse. I felt her nod several times as she said, "You're right. I should've told you. I'm sorry, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

      I swallowed thickly, trying to get rid of the lump in my throat. "Why didn't you?"

      She breathed out as I quietened down, managing myself the best I could. She pulled away, letting me see her glassy blue eyes behind her glasses. She pulled her glasses off, pocketing them, before rubbing the bridge of her nose and meeting my eyes again.

      "It wasn't because of you," she reassured firstly. "It wasn't. I just kept putting it off. I didn't know how to say it and I never found the time. It's a stupid reason, I know. I wish I had something better. But I don't. I can only apologise, Y/N."

      I pursed my lips in thought. Her eyes were darting between mine nervously and I tried to think what I could say.

      "Do you hate me?" she spoke quietly, almost expectantly.

      I felt her grip on my waist loosen as she prepared herself for my answer. I shook my head.

      "I could never hate you," I answered. "I love you, Kara."

      A hint of a smile ghosted her lips as she looked down, breathing out with relief.

      "I want you to tell me everything," I continued, earning her attention. "I want to hear it from you."

      She nodded. "Of course."

      "And I want you to be honest with me from here on out," I added, giving her a knowing look. "You can't hide stuff from me, especially when it involves Supergirl."

      "I promise I'll tell you everything," she said with a nod.

      I read her expression, sensing the honesty. Satisfied with my instructions, I moved forward and wrapped my arms around her shoulders. I closed my eyes, appreciating her presence, even if she pissed me off a little.

      She returned the embrace, pressing a kiss to my neck before pulling me closer.

       “You'll never lose me," she said quietly. "I promise."

[jemej3m]

incarnate (p3)

Hheeere uuu goooooooo (OooOoooooOOooOOoOooO) - p2

*

Andrew rocked up to the weekly gathering, basically in his pyjamas. Neither him nor Kevin were early risers, but Kevin had the gall to actually come to these things appropriately dressed. 

Andrew had just chucked a sweater over his t-shirt, tucked his pyjama pants into boots, yanked a beanie over his head and shuffled into his overcoat. Erik and Nicky - who lived in the second bedroom of their apartment - didn’t look much more presentable than he did, slomping around like zombies until they’d knocked back some coffee. 

Why Wymack and Dan held these gatherings at sunrise was beyond Andrew. He hated every single fucking time the little fox dropped off the acorn message at their door. How the fox even managed to get inside the building without triggering security was a wonder in itself. Andrew couldn’t wait to move out into a house. 

They’d all crammed into the car, revved up the engine way too loud for almost five in the morning, and cruised till they arrived to the edge of town. 

They all trudged through the forest till they’d arrived at the clearing where Palmetto held all their most powerful rituals and flamboyant gatherings. It also happened to be where Andrew had summoned the demon - Neil - maybe two weeks ago. 

He still had no idea what he wanted from the thing. He didn’t want anything, really. He’d never wanted anything. 

Andrew lit a cigarette when they arrived to the clearing, waiting for the others to show up. Renee, Dan and Allison were already there: Renee, smiling like an angel, Allison, looking like a god-send and Dan acting like she owned the place, formally greeting the others upon their arrival. 

Renee sidled up to Andrew, nudging their shoulders. “Something’s changed about your aura. Something lighter.”

Odd. He would have thought a demon summoning would’ve put a blemish on his soul, or whatever bullshit Renee actually bought into. He just shrugged. 

“The whole place seems a little different, really.” Renee said. “Like its recovering from something big. You wouldn’t have been here recently, would you?”

“Everyone hangs around here.” He said flatly. “We’re a bunch of witches and this is the coven’s gathering circle.”

“Of course.” Renee said easily. “It could have been any one of us. It’s definitely not Kevin, though. He looks far too guilty.”

Andrew’s gaze travelled across to where Kevin was mulling about the exact spot Neil had appeared the first time. Andrew muttered angrily under his breath and stalked over, dragging Kevin by the arm. 

“Hey!” Kevin complained. “I was just checking -” 

“Shut it.” Andrew hissed. “Fuck this up and I’ll tell everyone exactly who hexed the coven in an attempt to get rid of his tattoo and ended up giving everyone shitty tramp stamps. We clear?”

Kevin gulped. “Crystal.” 

The recognisable footsteps of Wymack were heard by everyone: They all stood to the clearing’s edge as he arrived, flanked by Abby and Bee. Bee smiled at Andrew warmly and tapped her wrist ( “Talk later?” ). Andrew rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“Boyd and the neophyte will get here soon.”  Wymack said gruffly, brushing himself off. A twig was still stuck out of his hair and Abby plucked it out fondly. “Yes, that’s why I’ve called you all here. We’re initiating a witch into the Palmetto coven this morning.” 

Two sets of footsteps neared the clearing. One set familiar - heavy and rhythmic, like Boyd’s heart rate - and the other flighty and nervous. As they appeared, Andrew’s heart bottomed out into his stomach. 

“Neil Josten.” Wymack gestured for him to step forward. “Welcome to the Palmetto coven.” 

Neil nodded gently, eyes scouring the circle that greeted him. He looked human - the scars on his face and arms were gone, and his eyes were a normal (still devilishly gorgeous) shape and shade of blue. When his eyes flit to Andrew and Kevin, he had to stifle the hints of a grin. 

“Step into the centre: everyone else, join hands.” Wymack instructed. Andrew hated this part of the initiation, twisting his fingers with Renee’s and Kevin’s. Everyone’s energy flowed freely between them. He could feel the valliant leadership from Dan, Allison’s lures and illusions, Bee’s soothing calm, Abby’s healing tisanes, clarity and forgiveness from Renee, strength and loyalty from Matt, Kevin’s logic and perfection, Nicky’s boisterousness and sunshine and Erik’s curiosity and perseverance. 

When Neil bowed his head, they all took a startled step back. Of course it’d be something unlike any of them had ever witnessed: Neil was a creature of pure magic. Not like humans, who were poor conductors at best. His power glossed over Andrew’s skin like gold dust and he opened his eyes. 

Neil’s glamours had held up, but they wouldn’t be good enough for Renee and Bee. Regardless, they both smiled and went to Neil to welcome him alongside the rest of the coven. He looked lost and somewhat uncomfortable with all their friendly introductions, looking frantically from witch to witch. 

Andrew kept back: Kevin did too. Wymack glanced to them only once, shaking his head. 

“He’s so strong.” Kevin murmured. “He could - Andrew, he could teach us stuff! Will you ask him to?”

“Like I’m going to waste my one wish on your needless pursuits for knowledge.” Andrew muttered, letting his head fall to one side. Even Kevin’s rattling couldn’t distract him from the way Neil’s eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, the way the tip of his nose curved perfectly to his lips. 

Andrew would never ask for that. There was no consent in magically inclined bindings. But so long as he could appreciate from afar, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Oh, how Andrew hadn’t had a clue. 

*

three moon cycles later 

“It’s the fall equinox, it’s the fall equinox!” Neil crowed, sitting on Andrew’s dresser with his ankles crossed and rapping against the wooden surface with his knuckles. “Wake up, morons. Is that an appropriate insult? I’m still not very good with insults. Although I have decided that you humans are rather feeble: Almost pathetic. So maybe dweebs is a better term?”

Andrew blinked awake blearily, not realising he’d set a hyper-active demon to go off at six o’clock in the morning rather than his usual Kevin-Day-Getting-Bored-And-Wanting-To-Research-Or-Practise alarm. 

“How’d you get in here?”  Kevin said, waving his hands around in a futile effort to block the rays of sun that peered through the window: Neil, the little bastard, had opened the curtains. “Andrew, didn’t we set up protective wards?”

“Neil’s a part of the coven.” Andrew muttered. “He can bypass them. He’s been bypassing them for two and a half months now.”

“Who decided it’d be a good idea to bring a demon into the coven?”

“Matt’s.”

“To be fair, he still doesn’t know.” Neil chirped. “And I’m right here: I can hear everything you two are say. And some things you aren’t saying.”

Kevin sat up, shirtless and still half asleep. “What, you can read minds now?”

“I’ve always been able to read everyone’s intentions and emotions.” Neil corrected him. “It’s rather necessary for one’s survival. I’d teach you how to block it, but that wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“You’re the worst.” Kevin groused, stumbling to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom. 

Andrew finally sat up and checked his arm-bands were there, pulling a hoodie that’d been stuffed between his bed and the wall over his head. Neil watched him with his head cocked to the side. Andrew didn’t care. It’d been three months of having a pet demon and Andrew really couldn’t care less about the five-foot-three nuisance. 

“I lied before.” Neil said, softly. He was still sitting atop of Andrew’s dresser, effectively blocking Andrew from grabbing a clean pair of boxers. “I can read everyone’s intentions and emotions - except yours.”

“Now that’s some Twilight bullshit.” Andrew grunted, checking over his plants with careful fingertips. “Do you glitter in the sun, too?”

“I hate it when you make pop-culture references.” He complained. “I never understand them.” 

“Forget it. Why can’t you read me?”

He shrugged. “Most demons back home are very good at concealing themselves, but humans have never been. Renee is also practised, as is Bee, but your soul is far more intricately protected.”

Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. “It needs to be.”

“Right.” Neil said, unconvinced. “I just hope you’re not constricting yourself in the process.”

Andrew flipped him off. 

“What? I’m just making observations.”

“Well, make your observations elsewhere. I need to get to my drawers.”

Neil, in a rare moment of complacency, did as he was told. He sat on the edge of Andrew’s bed instead and leaned forward. “Have you thought about what you want from me?”

Andrew ignored him. 

“Because it’s the fall equinox, and I can draw a lot of power tonight. I should use it to escape.” Neil admitted. 

Andrew slowly turned. “What?”

Neil looked up at him from under his curly fringe. He’d let loose his glamour again - fuck, those eyes got Andrew every damned time - and he hadn’t really cut his hair for however long he’d been here. It was getting ridiculously long. Andrew wanted to run his fingers through it. 

“I can’t stay.” He said. “My father will find me. He’ll break into this realm somehow and ruin everything. I have to leave before he does.” 

“Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere.” 

Neil looked back down at his hands. They shook slightly: He balled them in his trousers, a pair ratty pair of jeans. Andrew crouched in front of him. 

“Neil,” He said. “I have the journal. I have you. If he wants to cause trouble, I’ll send him to Hell’s ninth fucking circle, got it? You’re staying.” 

“But -” He tried. 

“No.” Andrew reached out to pinch his lips shut. “Quiet, before you say something ludicrous. Stay out of trouble and I’ll watch your back. Clear?” 

Neil’s lips fought free of Andrew’s fingertips to smile, a small thing that was so reserved but unrepentant all the same. Andrew hated it. “Crystal.”

*

[cyborgsquirrel]

Sanctuary: Chapter 20

Pairing: Wolfstar

Summary: The epic tale of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, from their first meeting until their happily ever after.

Link to Prologue

Link to All Chapters

Friday, 15th October 1971, 5:55 pm

Remus climbed through the portrait hole after Sirius and stood up straight. 'Oh, my gods.'

'Yeah,' Sirius said.

James emerged from the portrait hole next. 'Merlin, is the whole school here?'

Sirius nodded. 'Looks like it.'

Peter climbed out last. 'Woah! How are we going to get to the door?'

That was a good question. The landing and the staircase were packed with students. There was barely an inch of space to be seen. The noise was horrendous, and Remus was glad it wasn't closer to the full moon.

'Like this,' James said, before cupping his hands around his mouth and screaming at the top of his voice. 'Make way! Make way! Finders of the birthday cake room, coming through!'

Those closest to them looked around, and the crowd began to part like a pair of curtains.

'Walk in between us, Remus,' Sirius said. Remus nodded and manoeuvred himself between Sirius and James, with James in the lead of course. Peter took up the rear of their procession through the dense crowd. When they reached the right painting, they stopped and James glanced around. The crowd had fallen silent in anticipation.

'We're looking for Alastor Moody. Has anyone seen Alastor Moody?' James yelled into the silence.

'I'm right here,' a deep voice said beside them. 'You should be more aware of your surroundings. Constant vigilance!'

James coughed and looked up at the towering seventh-year prefect. 'Yeah. Right. Um. We're just waiting for Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster. They want to be present when we unlock the reward room.'

Moody nodded solemnly. 'Very wise.'

The teachers arrived a few minutes later, having waded through the crowd to reach them from the other direction.

'Looks like the word spread,' Dumbledore said with a chuckle. 'Let the show begin.'

'Er, yeah. Moody, if you could tell the door it's your birthday.'

Moody turned to the door. 'It's my birthday.'

The door swung open with a quiet fanfare, and the four Marauders, the birthday boy and the two teachers proceeded into the room. Professor Dumbledore asked the crowd to please wait outside for a few minutes. His request was met with disappointed groans.

Once inside, Moody blew out the candle and the usual Happy Birthday message appeared on the wall along with the twenty-eighth glowing white light. The lights flashed a multitude of different colours in quick succession and blinked out. The fanfare sounded again, much louder than before, and a new message appeared on the wall.

Congratulations on completing the task! I hope you have learned the importance of hard work and perseverance and perhaps even made some new friends. This room will remain open for the rest of the current school year. All possible safety precautions are in place. It is not possible for anyone to be hurt inside this room. Have fun! - Helga Hufflepuff

'A founder's secret. How very exciting,' Professor Dumbledore said. 'Shall we see what it is? I think you boys should lead the way since you did all the work.'

'Go on, Remus,' James said. 'You did all the hard stuff.'

Remus stepped forward, pushed the door open and walked through into… blazing sunshine? What?

'Fucking hell! It's a fucking beach!' Sirius yelled behind him.

'Language, Mister Black,' Professor McGonagall snapped. 'But you are correct, it does appear to be a beach. How peculiar.'

'I do believe this is the fabled hidden swimming pool,' Professor Dumbledore said, walking in to stand next to them. 'How wonderful. I'd always hoped I'd be privileged to see it. Helga really outdid herself, didn't she?'

That was an understatement. The "room" was enormous. Swathes of soft white sand swept into the distance to meet a deep blue ocean, waves breaking gently against the shore. The "ceiling" looked exactly like the sky, complete with fluffy white clouds, and there was even a cliff face with a cave. The ocean flowed into the opening and ivy hung down over the entrance. Off to one side of the beach, there was a large building. A building inside a building. Hogwarts was so weird.

'Mister Potter, why don't you go and let the rest of the school know there's enough space in here for them all to join us. Be sure to tell them to proceed in an orderly fashion. We don't want anyone to be trampled.'

'Yes, sir.' James ran out of the door, and a moment later they heard his loud, confident voice relaying Dumbledore's message.

'Let's go over here so we don't get jostled,' Sirius said, leading Remus to the side of the door.

The students streamed inside and spread out across the sand, marvelling at the realism. A few went to investigate the building. They came back out a few minutes later wearing bathing suits.

'Hey, everyone, there's changing rooms in here and swimming costumes!'

It didn't take long before the majority of the students had changed and jumped into the ocean-swimming pool. Soon, water fights were in progress and several students who preferred to stay dry were building sandcastles or lying on the beach.

Remus was one of them. There was no way he could strip down to what was little more than a pair of pants and join in with everyone else. Even if his scars weren't horrifying, which they were, they marked him as a werewolf. They would be immediately recognised by anyone with the barest knowledge of lycanthropy. So he sat on the sand and he watched.

He watched Sirius and James jump into the water and swim out to the cave to investigate, and he watched Peter make the laborious climb to the top of the cliff to cannonball off of it. He watched as one boy got into difficulty in the waves and was magically levitated to the beach by the room, and he watched as the teachers decided it was safe and left them to their fun. Later, he watched as the fake sun began to set over the ocean, painting the sky in red and purple hues.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' Sirius asked, flopping down next to him. 'I'd love to paint it.'

'You should. We have the room until June.'

Sirius shook his damp hair out of his face and winked at him. 'I will if you come here with me.'

Remus smiled, thanking Merlin for the dim light that hid his blush for once. 'I'd love to.'

When it was nearly time for curfew, the prefects that were still present began ushering everyone into the changing rooms and, once dressed, off to their common rooms.

James and Peter appeared, out of breath and red-cheeked.

'We are so coming back here tomorrow,' James said.

 -o-o-o-o-

 Sirius lay in bed a few hours later, staring at the ceiling. Peter had been snoring for over an hour, and James had just let out a snort that told him he was finally asleep. He rolled over and eased himself out of bed before tiptoeing over to where Remus was sleeping.

He pulled back the edge of the curtain and whispered. 'Remus. Wake up.'

Remus stirred and blinked a few times. 'Sirius?'

'Yeah. It's me. Come downstairs? I want to talk to you.'

Remus blinked at him again. 'Okay.'

When they reached the common room, Sirius suddenly felt a bit foolish. He had no idea what he was going to say. There was only one course of action available. Stall.

'I wanted to see the beach at night. Will you come with me?'

Remus stared at him, his face confused, but then he shook his head and smiled. 'Yeah, alright.'

They snuck out of Gryffindor tower and down the landing to the hidden door. The painting had been removed, and the door left open for easier access, and they were able to slip straight inside.

The beach was beautiful in the dim light of the enchanted stars. There was a full moon hanging in the sky, gilding everything in sight with a silvery glow, which Sirius hadn't expected, and he saw Remus flinch out of the corner of his eye, but pretended he hadn't. Sirius wondered when Remus had last seen a full moon with his human eyes.

'We've met before, you know?' he said before he could lose his nerve.

Remus looked at him steadily for a moment. 'Yes, Sirius. I know. We met yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that.'

Sirius sat down, leant back on his elbows, and dug his fingers into the powdery sand. 'No, I mean before school. We met a long time ago. I don't know if you remember.'

Remus sat down next to him with his legs bent and wrapped his arms around his knees. He stared out at the star-spotted horizon for a few minutes, and Sirius started to think he was never going to respond.

'I don't think I do remember. How long ago was it? Are you sure it was me?'

'I was five. It was cold, so it must have been during the winter, or maybe early spring? And we were in Diagon Alley. I got into trouble, I don't remember what for, something stupid I'm sure.' Sirius shrugged. 'I ran away and hid in the apothecary. You found me there. You saw I was upset and invited me to your birthday party.'

Sirius paused because Remus' shoulders had stiffened. 'Remus? You okay?'

'I think I remember. Your mum came, and she called me a dirty little freak.'

'She did.' Sirius chuckled. 'Because you kicked her right in the shin defending me. She was furious.'

Remus turned his head to look at him. 'Did I? I don't remember that part.'

'I remembered it. Every single day. You were my hero,' Sirius said, looking Remus right in the eye and willing him to understand how important he was.

Remus was quiet for a few minutes, and Sirius didn't know what to think. Was that the wrong thing to say? Had he blown it?

'So, then, why did you say no when I asked to share your boat?' he asked at last.

Sirius sat up and leant forward so he could see Remus' face. 'You have no idea how many times I've kicked myself for that. Gods, Remus. I told you I was saving the seat for someone, right?'

Remus nodded.

'I was saving it for you! I looked for you on the train but didn't see you, and I was scanning the bank of the lake for you. And then you were right there in front of me and I didn't recognise you. When McGonagall called your name and you stepped forward. Merlin, I felt like the world's biggest idiot. I thought I'd ruined everything.'

Remus laughed. 'You very nearly did. I hated you for those first few days.'

'I deserved it.'

'You really did. But you've made up for it.'

'Have I?'

Remus paused. Sirius waited, holding his breath.

'Yes.'

Sirius let out the breath he was holding, and they sat in silence for a few minutes listening to the waves lap against the shore.

Remus turned his head. 'Why did you need a hero?'

Sirius huffed out a breath. Why indeed? 'You may have noticed my mother isn't very nice.'

Remus inclined his head. 'Is she like that a lot?'

'Every goddamn day of my life,' Sirius said with a humourless laugh. 'I'm the disappointment. The unworthy heir. The lion in the snakes' nest.'

'They're all Slytherins?'

Sirius nodded. 'The ones that weren't are no longer considered members of the family.'

'I'm glad you're a Gryffindor.'

Sirius snorted. 'Merlin, me too.'

'Even though they'll hate you for it?'

Sirius shook his head. 'They already hated me, Remus. I've been punished every day of my life simply for being me. Impulsive, energetic, can't keep his mouth shut, brightest goddamn star in the sky, me. How could being sorted into Gryffindor possibly make them hate me any more?'

Remus looked away.

'No. Don't do that. Please. Don't pity me,' Sirius said.

Remus' head shot back. 'Pity you?' He shook his head. 'I don't pity you. I think you're incredibly strong, to take so much all your life and refuse to bend.' He paused. 'At least they gave you one thing. They gave you the perfect name. You really are the brightest star.'

Sirius snorted. 'We're all named after stars or constellations. It's a family tradition.'

'Well, you got the best one,' Remus said.

Sirius went quiet for a moment. It seemed like a good time to bring up the real reason he'd bought Remus here. 'Will you come swimming with me?'

Remus stiffened again and Sirius hurried on before he could say no. 'You don't have to get undressed if that's what you're worried about. I've noticed how shy you are. We can swim in our pyjamas. I just don't want you to miss out when it's all thanks to you that we even have this.'

Remus stared at him for a minute and then his face relaxed into a smile. 'Yeah. Alright.'

Sirius whooped and leapt to his feet. 'Come on, you have got to see the cave. It's amazing.'

They ran across the sand and into the pleasantly warm water, laughing as their pyjamas became saturated and weighed them down, making it hard to swim. Sirius pulled back the curtain of ivy and waved Remus inside. Then he watched as Remus' face lit up with wonder.

The inside walls and ceiling of the cave shimmered with luminous blue crystals, giving everything a soft glow. Remus' skin sparkled in the light. And Sirius got a weird tingling in his stomach.

'It's beautiful,' Remus said, turning to look at Sirius.

'I knew you'd like it,' Sirius said.

 -o-o-o-o-

 They didn't go back to the beach room the following day because they needed to brew the animation potion for Halloween. If he were honest, Remus was a little relieved. It had been a lot of fun swimming with Sirius the night before, but he knew he couldn't swim in his clothes with other people present. It would draw too much attention. So he would end up alone again, watching everyone else have fun, unable to join in. Staying in the dorm and well out of the way while his friends brewed was far preferable to that.

They had set the cauldron up in the middle of the floor on a portable brewing stand they had "borrowed" from Slughorn. The stand had built-in fire control runes, so they didn't need to worry about casting any fire spells too far above their level and killing themselves. Always a plus.

Peter, as their Chief Potioneer, was in control of the project and had spent the day happily ordering James and Sirius around and grinning every time they obeyed his instructions. They had taken it in turns to eat, James and Peter going first while Sirius monitored the potion. When they returned, Sirius had joined Remus in the kitchen for their meals so he wouldn't have to eat alone in the Great Hall. It had been nice to have company.

'Okay, this just needs to simmer for a few hours,' Peter said, dusting his hands off.

'Excellent, that means we can go to Slughorn's party,' James said.

Sirius shook his head. 'Someone needs to stay here to prevent a dorm check.'

James deflated. 'Oh, yeah. Guess it wouldn't be fair to leave someone out whilst the rest of us go.'

Remus put down the book he was reading. 'I don't want to go, anyway. If it's just a case of being present in the room and I don't have to touch the potion, I don't mind staying while you three go to the party.'

Sirius and James looked to Peter, who nodded. 'The potion will be fine.'

'Thanks, Remus,' James said. 'We better get ready; it starts in fifteen minutes.'

Remus returned to his book while his friends changed into their best robes and preened in the mirror. The preening was mostly Sirius, although James got in his fair share. They were ready to leave ten minutes later, and Remus waved them off happily. He was quite looking forward to a little peace and quiet.

Remus had enjoyed swimming with Sirius the night before, but his revelation about them meeting before needed some analysing, and he'd been too tired to think about it when they returned to the dorm, falling asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. He wasn't sure how he felt about Sirius remembering the day he was bitten in such a fond light. The day was burned into both their minds, but for very different reasons. For Remus, it was the day his life changed forever. It was brutal and bloody and full of pain. For Sirius, it seemed to be a source of strength. A memory that he clung to during difficult moments and enjoyed recalling.

Could Remus use Sirius' positive feelings about that day to reduce his own negative ones? Change the way he thought about it? Instead of it being the day his life was changed forever, could it become the day he changed Sirius' life? It would make it easier to cope with the 16th of February in the future if he could learn to look at it that way.

He was half an hour into his alone time when he came across a useful passage in his book and he stood up to fetch a quill so he could make some notes. He was working on a way to add a second layer of enchantment to the belch powder. James still wasn't satisfied that the event would be magnificent enough, and he wanted to make it bigger. Remus bent over his trunk to get what he needed. And when he stood back up, disaster struck. He tried to lift his foot to turn around, but he happened to be standing on his untied shoelace and his foot wouldn't budge. Wobbling, he flailed his arms and lost his grip on the ink bottle he was holding. The bottle flew into the air towards the potion. Shit! Remus thought, and tried to make a grab for it, unbalancing himself even further. The ink bottle landed in the potion with a plop.

The potion bubbled ominously.

Remus fell.

The potion exploded.

The bright pink goo shot towards the ceiling and rained back down over Remus, lying prone on the floor. The next thing Remus knew was the strange feeling of his clothes wriggling around on his skin and pulling him in all directions.

 -o-o-o-o-

 Sirius waved goodbye to Remus and followed James and Peter down the stairs and through the common room. He was looking forward to letting his hair down and having some fun after the stress of potion-making all day. They exited through the portrait hole and made the long journey down to the dungeon where the party was being held.

As they approached the door, they heard the sound of music drifting out. They were playing something upbeat, with lots of bass. Sirius grinned. When they entered the room, the grin fell from his face. It was exactly like one of his mother's boring "parties." Lots of boring people standing around, talking. Not a single person was dancing to the music.

Peter made a beeline for the buffet table, and Sirius joined him for something to do. The food was at least good. The house-elves had outdone themselves. Unfortunately, Sirius had already eaten.

'Ah, Mister Black. So glad you could make it. I used to teach your mother, you know. Delightful woman. Brilliant with a cauldron,' Professor Slughorn said, appearing at his side.

'You must be thinking of someone else, sir. My mother is far from delightful,' Sirius said.

Slughorn chortled. 'Ah, teenage boys and their mothers. You'll change your mind about her when you have children of your own.' He patted Sirius on the shoulder patronisingly, and Sirius scowled.

'Ah. Mister Pettigrew,' Slughorn said, spotting Peter helping himself to a third chocolate eclair. 'I wanted to discuss a potential career in potion-making with you. You show a remarkable aptitude for the subject. Let me introduce you to…' Sirius took that opportunity to slip away and look for James.

He found his friend and fellow Marauder talking to an annoyed looking Evans in the corner of the room. Sirius didn't want to interrupt while James was trying his luck with the girl, so he slinked away and slouched against the wall, observing the party. It really was boring. Lots of important people, full of their own importance, talking about pointlessly important things. He'd rather be back in the dorm with Remus.

Never one to deny his impulses, Sirius pushed himself off the wall and strolled out of the room. As he climbed back up to the seventh floor, he pulled off his tie and undid the front of his robes, instantly feeling better without the restrictive clothes. He hated being dressed up.

He pushed the door open and quickly closed it behind him when he saw the state of the room. There was bright pink goo splattered on the ceiling and floor. Something had gone wrong with the potion. How? He'd only been gone for forty minutes. More importantly…

'Remus?' he called.

Remus' voice answered from the bathroom. 'Oh, Sirius. Thank Merlin you're back. Help me!'

Sirius rushed into the bathroom and was met with the sight of Remus, floating in midair, trying to fight his way out of his clothes, which seemed to have a mind of their own.

'What happened?'

'Potion exploded. Clothes animated. Can't breathe,' Remus said as his jumper, having managed to detach itself from Remus' arms, wrapped itself around his neck.

'Shit, okay, hang on,' Sirius said, reaching for the jumper.

'No! Gloves first!'

'Right, sorry.' Sirius ran back into the dorm to fetch his Herbology gloves and sped back again. He put them on as fast as he could and then ripped the jumper from Remus' neck and threw it into the dorm so it wouldn't attack them again. Then he paused. Remus was not going to like this.

'Remus, I can't do anything about the clothes, we just have to wait for the potion to wear off. You're going to have to take them off.'

Remus struggled against his shirt. 'I can't move my arms, the clothes are stronger than me.'

'Do you want me to help? I can probably do it with my eyes closed. Do you trust me?'

Remus stared at him for a long moment and then nodded. 'Yes, I trust you.'

Sirius felt a thrill at that. Maybe Remus would tell him his secret soon so Sirius could stop pretending he didn't know.

He closed his eyes and reached for the front of Remus' shirt. There was no way he was going to be able to manage buttons with these gloves on, so he just yanked on the edges, causing the buttons to ping off. He kept his eyes shut tight as he moved around behind Remus. As tempting as it was to look, and it was tempting—he desperately wanted to know what Remus was hiding, how bad it was—there was no way he was going to betray the trust Remus had placed in him.

He grabbed hold of the collar and pulled it down, and back so it released his arms.

'I think I can get the trousers myself now,' Remus said. His voice sounded scared and shaky.

Sirius kept his eyes closed and moved back in front of Remus. 'Okay, but I'm going to hold on to your arms, when you get them off you're going to fall.'

'No, don't. Just stand back and let me fall. It'll only be bruises.'

Sirius hesitated. 'Are you sure?'

'Yes.' Remus' voice was firm now, all signs of fear had vanished.

'Okay.' Sirius moved back until his back hit the wall.

'Thank you.'

There was the sound of material rustling and then a loud crash and a cry of pain.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, just a bump. I'm going to go and get dressed.'

'Alright.'

Sirius waited until he heard the door close before opening his eyes. He was immediately attacked by Remus' trousers and forced to wrestle them into surrender.

'You can come in now,' Remus called from the dorm.

Sirius kept a firm grip on Remus' trousers as he pulled the bathroom door open and entered the dorm. Remus was maintaining an equally firm grip on his shirt and jumper.

'What shall we do with them?' he asked.

'Stuff them in James' trunk?' Sirius suggested.

Remus grinned wickedly. It lit up his entire face, and Sirius thought he should grin like that more often. 'That is an excellent idea.'

'Well, I'm not just a pretty face,' Sirius said, tossing his long hair like Evans did all the time.

'Clearly,' Remus said, not denying that he was pretty, Sirius noticed with a thrill.

They stuffed the animated clothes into James' trunk and slammed the lid closed. The trunk rattled for a few minutes and then went silent. James was going to get a big surprise when he next opened it.

 -o-o-o-o-

  Extract from The Official Marauders Notebook

Animation potion recipe

- Cowbane infusion

- 25 Yellow rose petals

- Crushed snake fangs - frog liver

- Essence of squill bulbs

- Tincture of knotgrass

- Dried billywig stings

- Moondew drops

- Caterpillars - powdered chrysalis

- Powdered beetle eyes

- Fluxweed

- Flobberworm mucus

Step one: Pour cowbane infusion into the cauldron. Bring to the boil.

Step two: Sprinkle rose petals across the surface and leave to simmer for 1 hour. Remove from the heat.

Step three: The rose petals should have completely dissolved and the potion should now be a pale yellow colour with a faint pink sheen. Add the crushed snake fangs, sprinkling around the edge of the cauldron. - Replace with chopped frog liver, add to the centre of the potion. Leave to simmer for thirty minutes. Remove from the heat.

Step four: The potion should now be faintly orange. Add four drops of squill bulb essence and stir anticlockwise three times, followed by four times clockwise and one figure-eight. The potion should turn bright orange.

Step five: Add one measure of knotgrass tincture to the exact centre of the cauldron and immediately apply high heat, bring to the boil and turn the heat down to simmer for two hours, stirring once clockwise every five minutes.

Step six: The potion should now be bright red. Add six billywig stings. One at a time. Stirring three times clockwise in between each addition. Boil for five minutes and simmer for thirty.

Step seven: The potion should be bright pink. Add twelve moondew drops evenly spaced around the circumference of the cauldron. Leave to simmer for three hours.

Step eight: The potion should be pale lilac and have reduced by half. Add four chopped caterpillars and stir vigorously until the potion turns deep purple. - Add four powdered chrysalis and stir gently until the potion turns purple.

Step nine: Add one measure of powdered beetle eyes and boil for two hours or until the potion turns bright blue.

Step ten: Add two measures of finely chopped fluxweed. Bring to the boil and reduce heat. Simmer for three hours. The potion should now be a deep turquoise. Bottle immediately and leave to stand for three days until the liquid has turned into smoke.

- After the potion has turned turquoise, apply a targeting spell and add target. Simmer for thirty minutes and then bottle. The potion should be green.

 Whatever you do, do not add a bottle of ink to the potion when it's pink - Remus Lupin, Chief Researcher and Safety Monitor.

But if you do, definitely don't then hide the resultant sentient clothing in your best mate's trunk for him to find first thing in the morning when he's sleepy and not thinking straight - James Potter, Chief Imaginator

Do do that, because the result is hysterically funny - Sirius Black, Chief Artist  and Charmer of Teachers.

It was not funny, Sirius! - James Potter, Chief Imaginator.

When you fell over and the trousers wrapped themselves around your head? Mate, that was classic comedy! - Sirius Black, Chief Artist  and Charmer of Teachers.

I banged my head! - James Potter, Chief Imaginator.

That's what made it so funny. And stop crossing out my second title! - Sirius Black, Chief Artist  and Charmer of Teachers.

You don't have a second title! - James Potter, Chief Imaginator.

Chapter 21

[stusbunker]

The Wife She Was Never Meant To Be

For Better or Worst: Chapter Eleven

Featuring: Sam x Emery Simmons-Winchester (OFC)

Other Characters: Mary Winchester, Jack Kline, Dumah, Bandit (OC), neighbors Jason, Trudy and Dylan (OCs)

Season 14 AU

Word Count: 2121

Summary: Jack is confronted about his extracurricular activities. A pointed flashback. Sam and Emery babysit.

Series Masterlist

^*^*^

              Dumah inhaled with sheer satisfaction, her vessel’s dark eyes alight with the task at hand. She approached the diner alone, pant suit pristine as she scanned the civilians in her way. With a short nod at the waitress at the counter, she took a sharp turn toward the back of the dining area, stopping at the last booth on the right.

              Mary stopped midsentence and turned to face her, hand sliding instinctively to the weapon at the small at of her back. “Can we help you?”

              Dumah shook her head. “Don’t need your help. But Jackie here, well, he’s needed on some official business.” Mary’s face fell as Dumah shined with her smugness.

              “Is it--- did something happen?” Jack crawled from his side of the booth, staring into the angel for some sense of honesty.

              “Jack, I don’t think��,” Mary tried to reason with him, seeing the urgency overtake his entire body.

              “I can’t say, but you need to come with me. Now, Jack,” Dumah finished sternly, seeing the warning in the older woman’s eyes before the Nephil squared his shoulders and walked out of the diner. Mary grabbed the angel’s arm as she turned to follow Jack outside.

              “Look, I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but I’m coming with. You’re not taking Jack too,” Mary warned under her breath.

              “He’s coming willingly. Maybe you should accept that you aren’t cut out to play grandma either,” Dumah said in true mean girl fashion, leaving Mary dumbstruck with a conniving smirk. Mary tossed some cash onto the table and ran to catch up with them outside, but it was too late, they were gone.

^*^*^

              The sound pierced through the cavernous walls like an alarm, a long unnatural wail, sadder and more primal than any pitch they had heard before on the protected airwaves. Naomi’s mind raced at what or who could be in such anguish. Anyone with access was accounted for, where was this misery coming from? As quickly as it started, it cut off, leaving the dwindling angels murmuring in speculation.

              A week later, Naomi knew she had the right flat, simply by the demons lining the perimeter of the block. Slowly, she made her way through Hell’s foot soldiers, without so much as a misplaced strand of hair. She approached the third floor with caution, uncertain why the demons hadn’t stormed in and taken her for themselves. She reached the door at the top of the stairs, no landing beyond the final step on which Naomi shuffled her feet over the threadbare carpeting.

              Before she could knock a weak voice called out, “if you’re going to kill me, you can do it from there.”

              Naomi surprised at the timidity of the creature that somehow subverted both Heaven and Hell’s lines of communication. Naomi leaned in until she could hear shuffling footsteps beyond the hollow plywood door. “I’ve come to help you, Emery. Can I come in?”

              With very little ceremony the door opened to reveal a grief-stricken mother in such a state that Naomi would have felt indecent entering her home, had she, herself, been human.

“How can you help me?” Emery demanded.

              Naomi, confused by the spikes of energy the woman emitted as they each tried to read each other, stepped inside the repurposed attic. A dog lingered beside her, protective yet silent.

“I understand that you have lost your son recently. Now, I may not be able to remedy that situation, but I may be able to ease your conscience and help you towards some absolution.”

              Emery stiffened at the dangling carrot. “Why help me? Why not smite me like you did all those demons who were too chicken shit to come up here? I’m no better than they are.”

              Naomi tilted her head to the side and sighed. “You truly believe that, don’t you? That you’re no better than those that prey upon the weak?”

              Emery shrugged, folding her arms over her stomach as she looked into the angel’s piercing blue eyes. “Sooner or later, I’ll become exactly what they were.”

              “Emery, you’re not damned. There is still time for you,” Naomi started to see the guilt and anguish that had been piled over her grief. This woman could barely stand with the weight of her emotional pain. Emery let out a single mirthless chuckle, head shaking as she glared through glistening eyes.

              “I don’t deserve time or forgiveness. I’ve done the unspeakable,” Emery whispered, closing her eyes against her confession.

              “And yet, somehow an angel has come to you offering you a path toward salvation,” Naomi replied, kinder than she expected to sound.

              “I don’t want salvation. Not for myself,” Emery spat, anger surfacing at the selfishness implied by such an offer. Naomi considered what she meant, seeing everything standing in their way and without missing a beat, sold with everything she had.

              “Let us help you free your son,” Naomi went big.

              “Why would you--?” Emery gaped.

              “There are things happening all over the world, yet I came here today. For you. The Bible is filled with people who, at their lowest, were set on the path to righteousness. You are no different, Emery.” Naomi saw the instant her hope ignited, the flames of regret and loss dimming in comparison. This woman held immense psychic power and though it had only extrapolated after her recent tragedy, Naomi couldn’t let her uncover her true potential. There was so much more at risk if she remained unchecked, than a single immortal soul.

              “If not for yourself, do it for him. Come with me, let us free you from your burdens while you help protect us Heaven and Earth,” Naomi brushed Emery’s bangs from her forehead, like an older sister soothing a lost sibling. Emery gave into the whirlwind, faith and loss, guilt and new possibilities overwhelming her tired mind and weakened body. She couldn’t remember the last time she had slept. Yet, here stood the most ethereal being she had ever seen, offering her hope beyond dreams. This is what her pastor meant that they’d be surprised with who they saw in Heaven, when their time came. Salvation wasn’t just offered to the pious, it was granted to those who sought it; who worked for it.

              And even though everything told Emery she wasn’t worthy of such an opportunity, she clung to it, the first solid steppingstone on the cracking path she climbed.

              “What do you need me to do?” Emery whispered, eyes closed and heart open.

^*^*^

              Emery knew Sam was telling her the truth, obvious, provable things had happened which lined up too perfectly to be coincidence. But it was so all encompassing that she had taken days to process his history. Oddly, Sam seemed more relaxed the more she knew about him. Perhaps it was the relief of knowing what had been happening between them and putting an end to its influence. Maybe it was just easier than living a lie. Either way, she took the tiny victory, grateful for the trust he gave her by sharing his and his brother’s lifelong struggle against evil.

              Sam mentioned that there were books floating on the internet, a new gospel, penned by God himself. Though he wasn’t eager to share the gory details, he told her if she needed more in-depth answers, they were available. Like a true academic, she did her research. She checked dates and locations and even weather reports. It was all there, just below the surface of the major headlines, but sprinkled throughout the trashy newspapers that had become bad chain emails or misguided social media panics along the way. Monsters had always been real for Emery, but apocalyptic destinies were beyond the scope of her time as a sunroom psychic and single mother. His perseverance floored her.

              Sam came home Wednesday night to the shrill wail of a newborn and two extra barking voices. Jason and Trudy were hovering at the front door, dropping off the baby (and dogs) for their first night out since becoming parents. Emery rocked pudgy Dylan against her shoulder, hand lightly cupping his tiny head when Sam stole over the dogs’ attention as he came in the back. Suddenly three excited boys hurdled over each other across the hardwood floors.

              “Hey, guys!” Sam waved from beyond the wall of fur. Amusingly, Jason was the one who was insistent on the baby’s schedule, lingering over his son as Trudy stood on the wide front porch rolling her eyes. When their neighbors were finally on their way to a quick dinner downtown, Sam started reheating leftovers for Emery and himself to eat around keeping their wards content. Within an hour, the dogs had settled, and Dylan was back asleep after a quick change.

              “You’re really good at that,” Sam admired, watching Emery settle the infant back into his carrier.

              “This is an easy stage, feed, change, rock, repeat,” Emery shrugged off the compliment, giggling when she saw the express disbelief on Sam’s face. “It’s just a baby, Sam.”

              “I know, he’s probably the smallest one I’ve ever seen,” Sam shrugged.

              “He’s actually really big for a month, but unsurprising with his genetics,” Emery sighed, dropping onto the couch close, but not too close to Sam.

              “How tall were your parents?” Emery asked, getting comfortable asking Sam about himself more and more.

              Sam tilted his head back, “Uh, Dad was six-one, six-two--- somewhere in there. Mom’s tiny in comparison, but she’s doesn’t seem like it. Too tough, you know?”

              “I forget your mom’s alive,” Emery apologized.

              “Yeah,” Sam chuckled. “Still confuses the hell out of people.”

              The mood settled into a subdued quiet, reflective, but comfortable. Emery thought about how brave Sam was to stick beside her, to keep up his end of the deal. She knew he loved his brother more than anyone or anything, and though she benefitted from that loyalty in unspecified terms, it warmed her heart to know that kind of fraternity still existed in the world. A world filled with more monsters than the supernatural kinds, and somehow, she had been granted a man who worked to stay human against all odds.

              “Sam?” Emery turned to face him; knees pulled to her chest. “I want you to know that I have been honest with you. And I’ll keep being honest with you. I know this hasn’t been easy, especially given everything you have gone through. And I appreciate you explaining yourself to me.”

              Sam nodded, though a constricting sort of anticipation burned along his neck and he scratched the lower reaches of his beard to try and keep from flinching away from her.

              “Do you--- do you think you could trust me again?” Emery exhaled the plea, rushing the words out of her mouth towards Sam, giving him their weight to handle. Sam swallowed against the strain, her eyes adding the undercurrent of intimate trust to the bundle of her words.

              “Honestly? I don’t know,” Sam replied, brow wrinkled in levels of consideration. “But I’m still here and you’re still here, and damnit, I really hope that’s enough for this thing to end well.”

              “So—” Emery inched forward. “What does that mean, for us?”

              Sam exhaled, drawing it out as his hands fell to his thighs, sweaty and twitching. “I am comfortable being in this—partnership, with you Emery. But I don’t think I can go back to being your husband, in that way.”

              God, she was good at putting on a mask when she needed to. Sam saw it flicker in her eyes, the rise and deliberate hiding of her pain. His rejection stung them both, but he needed to be sure. She deserved that clarification, his truth. He wasn’t going to be the drunk asshole he once was, but he wasn’t going to be falling into bed with her that night either.

              “Okay,” Emery shrugged.

              “Okay?” Sam countered.

              “Yeah, Sam. If that’s what you need--- I’m not going to--- that’s not how I work. Like I said, if I had known you weren’t actually interested I—”

              Sam cut her off, “hey, it’s not that. Alright? This is my shit to process, please, understand that. I need to be sure here. I can be your friend, Emery. Hell, I want to be—I just. Can we just do that? First? Or finally? Or whatever?”

              Emery nodded, biting both her lips to keep from saying too much. Sam felt like she was shrinking away, the couch enveloping her, a shield against his words that carved into the tendrils of hope that had sprouted from her new understanding of him. Their relationship never made sense, in definition or routine. Why did this turn feel like such an impasse?

^*^*^

Read On Chapter Twelve: The Stuff of Souls

[allstarsstorymode867]

All-Stars -Story Mode- CHAPTER 15 Pt. 4

Part 3      Part 5

It’s been a rough typing and editing here and there on the fanfiction story, with patience and perseverance, I can finally post part 4 here.

I want you guys to give credit to @sampoststuff and @nan14bread for the artwork for Pt. 4 so give them love and follow them. Anyways, enjoy the part.

[Meanwhile with Primis Richtofen…]

“HELLO?!” P!Richtofen screamed as he ran around the area while looking around for his teammates, he is in an unknown place, a void of sunlight and the only surface is a water-like ground as it’s colored is in a crimson shade of red.

“Dempsey?! Takeo?! Nikolai!?” He called out as he looked around, water splashing around him and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he’s scared…. He’s afraid.

“But… B-but…” he babbled before hearing a female voice laughed, he knew that voice doesn’t belong to Samantha or anyone else but he knew this was not good.

“Enjoying yourself, Doctor?~ Are you feeling it now?~” the voice taunted while P!Richtofen looked around frequently, taking a couple steps back while doing so. The voice taunted him again saying “Those blood vials you’ve and your allies got, the qoute-unqoute “insurance policy” that you called it now, is it? You knew that “Doctor” Monty was going to bring it up and too bad for him, I am too powerful and smarter nerd than he is. I am on no one’s side but mine!~”

“J-Just…. Vho are you?!” he jabbed as he looked around the area, he’s helpless, weaponless and hopeless to stand against whoever’s behind all of this. Behind all of the chaos that has been going on.

“Who am I? Who am I??” the voice cried, sounded offended when he asked her, “Why “Minster” Richtofen! You sound feel honored to meet someone as broken and hopeless as you!” as Richtofen was obvious to the danger that is coming from behind him from within the water.

“I am beyond pain and ruin, above all else, I am Broken but I swear for the unspoken: I may be broken as a porcelain doll but I am still here!" she declared as Richtofen turned to see a little too late and saw tentacles made out of strange types of fabric had suddenly attacked. Richtofen tried to squirm his way out of them but they are much stronger than he thought.

He let out a scream as he is pulled downward into the raging water and babbles are popping out of his mouth, he tried struggling to get out when he felt something hit his head very hard, knocking him out cold.

Tentacles then dissolves into nothing as he floated downward towards the dark unknown below, his clothes began to change as well. The straps that are secured tightly around his torso had broken off and floated upwards with his blood vials.

[Drawn a while ago by Meaghan “Iceifr” Halter]

His clothes had changed color, his pants had turned from blue to red, his vest into teal green, his dress shirt into gray navy blue, he had even a long trench coat with two new straps and he even wore gloves. One more addition had appeared around his neck and a greek symbol, Delta is then linked on the chain string, forming a necklace as it glowed purple.

A song is playing softly in the background, it had sing:

Drowning in silence gasping and violent Crying and cold I know you never knew me I'm thinking all the way down In darker, deeper, freezing water

As he floated down backwards, making it look like he is falling from the sky head first into the abyss when a hand had reached out, a human hand, not a zombie, not Hallow. Just a normal human hand reaching from below him and then dragged him deeper into the water to which it’s started to turn from red to blue slowly as the song reaches to it’s fated end as everything is turning to white.

It's colder even now...

He then woke up, just like that, he found himself looking at the nighttime sky from where he’s at, it’s beautiful with all the stars and the moon out but that feeling that was there had short lived when he felt a sharp pain from his left arm.

He hissed in pain and then sat up to look at it and saw that his hand and arm are covered in cuts and thorns are still stuck in it. He reached for one thorn and then pulled it out and then recoiled back in pain.

“G-Guys?” Miss Pauling groaned as she rolled over, Diego is starting to wake up and then realized that he is on top of Scarlett, shocked by this revelation, he froze in place when Scarlett begins to wake up as well and noticed that she is under him.

Silence has filled around them for a moment as they looked at each other, “Well… This is a familiar situation.” he finally said as he looked at her, earning a sigh from her in return.

“What, you falling asleep on top of me?” she scolded as she gently pushes him off of her, Diego landed onto his back with a groan of pain as others around him began to wake up from their slumber.

“Oh… Mah head…” Engineer mumbled as he rubbed his head in aching pain, he looked around and noticed Pyro is about an itch far from him, “Pyro…” he muttered as he is surprised to see them lying on the ground before stumbling onto his feet and then ran to their side as he slid onto his knee-protecting caps he had strapped on.

“Pyro!” Engineer maintained from yelling, shaking them gently as he looked at them and noticed a crack on one of their eye lenses of their gas mask. “Aw hell, what happened when we’re out?” he demanded as he looked at them.

A muffed groan came out from them, Engineer looked at Pyro with relief and said “Thank god, you’re alright, Pyro.” just when Medic had awoken with a splitting headache.

Pyro looks at the Engineer and must’ve noticed they had a crack on the len of their mask, they must've panicked when they saw it when they saw Engineer so they had called out “Medic!”

“H-Huh…?” Medic said confused, looking over as he picked up his Medigun while Primis Nikolai and Shaw begins to wake up as well. He stumbled over to the two and kneels down to Pyro and asked “Are you hurt?” when he noticed a crack in the len, he rolled his eyes and then activated the Medigun right away without a word for a little bit for the len to be repaired.

P!Richtofen turned his head to the field and called out “Medic!” as he happened to use a cloth he had for the wounds on his arm to briefly stopped the bleeding, Medic looked over to the Primis Doctor after he finished fixing Pyro’s len. He ran over to him and then healed him with a medical beam with a usual pace and annoyed expression that Richtofen had acknowledged. “Does this happened often, Doctor?” he asked, the fellow German looked at the doctor with a confused look, “Hm? Oh… I had often gotten used to zhis routine, if you had discovered this type of healing medicine und zhen solution becomes a daily routine in zhe Gravel Wars.” he answered with honestly as he leaned a hand for the doctor, Edward then grabbed and then was pulled up onto his feet with Medic’s help. “It must’ve been a problem type zhan solution.” he said as he dusted himself off as Medic chuckled.

“It may be annoying problem but do not vorry mein friend, you’ll get used to it.” Medic humored with a smile, the way he talked reminds Richtofen of his friend and companion, Dr. Ludwig Maxis and looked up to him as a father figure when his parents passed away unexpectedly.

Nikolai is the one who noticed that they are no longer in the Caves but somewhere else they had never been.

“Where are we?” Nikolai groaned as he looked over to see Ultimis Dempsey and Takeo there as well, “Seems like an unfamiliar place,” Shaw stated as he surveyed the area and as well hearing sounds of a town going through some type of riot, “An unfamiliar place that is surrounding a park. How strange.”

“What the…” U!Dempsey muttered as he looked around with his Takeo who are astonished to see a place surrounding the natural park. “Guys… I think we’re in a mall.” Miss Pauling answered as the members of Primis, Chaos and Ultimis looked at her with even more confusion about the mall.

“The what?” Takeo questioned as he and Dempsey are suspecting about this place, “She said you are in a mall, what are you; deaf?” another new voice had suddenly chirped up with seriousness tone sharpen it.

They turned to look who had said that and see a very pale skin man wearing three layers of clothes: on his upper body, a button-up white shirt with a protruding collar kept partially buttoned, a plain gray hoodie, and a black leather jacket with a red interior, two horizontal white lines on each sleeve, and a red tribal design on the back. On his lower body, he wears plain blue jeans and black shoes.

He is standing with his back against a tree, his arms crossed together as he looked at them with his eyes are light blue and had constantly have a sickly gray tinting around them while he was wearing a hood over his head.

“Are you people lost or something?” the man said in an ominous tone, Takeo gently placed his hand on the handle of his katana sword as he felt a grim araroa coming off of him, Shaw swiftly held his arm out to stop him before he could draw it out.

The man seemed to have noticed this and said “I guess this outbreak had you guys on edge too, did it?” as he tilted his head to aside before walking towards them.

“Outbreak?” Nikolai said in shock, “What kind of outbreak is it?” he questioned as he took a couple of steps back away from this man approaching him. “Well, it’s a zombie-related outbreak and from what I can tell that this town is infested with them by now.” he answered as he stopped in his tracks.

Everyone looked at each other in shock and overwhelmed while the man watched, Pyro did turn their head back at him to look at, they are wasn't so sure if they all should trust him after since they had just meet him tonight and also… He was almost not human-like at all.

“How bad was it?” Dempsey ordered, feeling his marine side kicking in as he looked at the man, he had an almost expressionless look and he answered “I think it’s best that you should see it for yourselves but be careful, there are people that are still ass-shaken with all the hell happened.”

“Gotcha.” Dempsey nodded and looked over to everyone, waves his hand for them to follow him and then looks at the man before saying “I’m Dempsey, thanks for the help.” “The name’s Alex Mercer by the way, and you’re welcome.” the now-named man said before turning around and then walking away with Dempsey protesting “Hey, where ya going?”

Alex only turned around and looked at him, “Going for a place to hide like other survivors here and if we ever meet up again, I will be generous to help you guys out.” he cautioned as he turned and then continued walking away.

Ultimis Dempsey shook his head as he turned to everyone and said, “Alright, let’s go see the damages.” then walking ahead of the group and others did so.

[45 minutes later]

They all got there and they saw townspeople screaming, crying and panicking as they held their loved ones close, their confused and don’t know what to do, one hispanic man in a black dress shirt had got up with a bat, the woman, presumingly his girlfriend or wife had got up and asked “H-Hey! Where are you going?!”

“Stay alive! I’m getting help!” he answered as he headed for the direction of the zombie’s groans, “With those f*&^ing things out there, are you insane?!” she yelled as she stood there after she stopped following him.

“Yeah!”

“But it’s not safe!” Black african man with a yellow dress shirt with a tie and brown pants and leather shoes yelled, putting his hand on his shoulder to stop him, making him look at him in anger and disbelief.

“Brad!” another female voice called out, a white caucasian woman wearing grey formal clothing, under shirt, necklace, skirt and black shoes is kneeling down to one of the townies and that he was injured, making Brad let go of the bat-helding man to go over to her.

They are seeing them trying to treat the person as Brad said “How bad is it, Jesse?” as he looked at him and seeing a bite mark on his left wrist. Jesse can only answer “Pretty bad, Brad.”

Miss Pauling wasn’t sure what to make out of this chaos that is undergoing as she looked over to other group of survivors. One woman with a cellphone that she had never seen before and it looked brand new as she is trying to get out a call but couldn’t as she said “I… I can’t get a signal… Why- Why can’t I get a signal?”

Man who was traumatized then begins to babble things such as this “I-I was holding onto her and t-they had her, she was there for a minute then suddenly she went down with those things without a sound a-and I don’t know what to do, I-I just ran!” while he moved around constantly.

Richtofen was busy as he looked at the survivors until he looked at a young woman, the only one that doesn’t look modern as everyone else.

Her skin is sickly pale with disheveled shoulder-length dull brown hair, which looked like it was growing back after it had been once cut off against her will. Her cheeks are gaunt and she looks even more borderline anorexic and exhausted. Her eyes have darkened skin around them, giving the impression that she is tired or has been crying. He noticed that the cuts were her suicide cuts on her once-bloody wrists appear to have been healed.

She looked like was suffering from poverty and couldn't afford basic clothing, someone must have given her clothes. For what she wears, she wears a filthy black-and-white dress with a striped, long-sleeved top and black skirt, complete with black stockings, ankle-high boots, and a dirty white apron.

Young woman was underweight and fragile figure; she is borderline anorexic with a dangerously small waist, implying malnourishment. She has dark hair, a long oval-shaped face and large eyes with a shade of emerald-green. She is of average height for a woman, possibly slightly under average.

She was looking at the situation they are in before noticing Richtofen was looking at her as she looked back, looking at him with a look that can only say “We need to get out of here.” with her hand close to her face.

Richtofen was heading to her but another african man had cut in front of him, one thing the Doctor had noticed that his man is in his mid-50s, around 6 feet tall (1.83 m), mark on his neck is his thickly scar on his neck and he appeared to be wearing a normal civilian’s clothing; he is wearing a dress shirt with a black coat, black jeans and casual black shoes.

“Hey!” he said, “You can go around flirting around women later but can’t you see the situation we are in?!” as he points at the see-through doors with zombies that are… Confusing.

They looked like they were eaten, their eyes are glowing red as they are scratching their arms and necks like they had an itch. Their injuries are usual as their zombies are, with open wounds and guts spilled out but one thing that stands out the most is that they are not trying to get in or banging their hands on the glass.

Engineer and Richtofen looked at where the man had pointed in awe, “Dang it.” Engineer said, “I know, it’s already gotten worse for everything here in a small town called “Willamette” and I can tell…” the man growled, like he was mad at someone he knows.

“I can tell he did this! Jigsaw did this! This is another of his twisted games!” he yelled as he holds his head with his hands, everyone around looked at him confused. “Who is Jigsaw?” Richtofen’s thought said through his skull.

“This Jigsaw fellow behind this zombie outbreak, son?” Engineer said as he continued to look at doors with the dead being on the other side of it, avoiding the gazes of other people who were surprised to hear it.

“Those things have a name?” one man asked, another man who gave him a glare and then answered “Told ‘cha! Like in the George A. Romero’s zombie movies about them!”

“True.” Brad said, “But we already know killing them in the head is possible.” he continued, Nikolai nodded and said “True, comrade.”

“But still, it’s sure to block this one of all entrances here to keep them all out for sure until help arrives.” an old man added, “If we all do that; then we sure as dog on a stool we will be safe.”

He was standing beside Dempsey when he nudged him a little as he reassured others, “But hey! Best parts that we had already known about these “zombies” is that when we ran away, they’re too slow and dumb.”

“Good to know.” Miss Pauling said as she raised an eyebrow to this, the friendly old man clapped his hands together and then said, “Alright, time to seacure the mall. As long as all of you know what is going on, check every nook and cranny here for any stuff heavy enough for you can find then meet us back here. Now get!” as he clapped his hands like a referee, “Move ‘er out! Go!” before ushering them away.

Unsure with what’s happened, other that they are receiving stares from the people around them, most of them are looking at them with suspicions, some of them are looking at them like their prayers had been answered.

“Like one zombie situation after another.” Richtofen had thought to himself, looking around him and to the survivors around them. He noticed that this man he had stopped him earlier is now walking with them.

“Um… Do ve help you?” he asked, trying not to sound too weirded out by this behavior. “Going with you, not to know what is going on but to find Jigsaw.” he said like it explains everything behind his reason.

“Alright then…?” he said, “Zhen you tell us vhy you vant to help.” Richtofen soon asked the man beside him. “It’s my own reason but I want to help to make sure everyone is safe. Police had the idea that goes with the Serve and Protect mottos when I had once go by as an officer.” “Wait, you’re a cop?” Miss Pauling asked, looking at him with scared and surprised with the fear of one police officer to find out about the Gravel Wars in her world. “I am a detective,” he answered, looking at her as he walked ahead. “I’m David Tapp, I work as a detective and I am working on the case of the killer named''Jigsaw ``. You?”

“Miss Pauling,” she introduced to herself, “And these people is my team are with me.” she continued as she jesters everyone to him. “Hello” Nikolai greeted the detective but David only turned away from him to look at Richtofen with suspicion to winch Nikolai is quite familiar with.

He had his suspicions with his Richtofen, Primis version of the original for all he had done and had always doubts about plans of saving their future but this man is somewhat different, reasons behind it was something that person is truly obsessed with something or someone.

*Something like this fills you with… *Worry for David Tapp’s obsession and his sanity.

“Yet, earlier you had said that this “Jigsaw” had done this, is it true?” Nikolai questioned, making Tapp look right at him with a glare and then answered “I didn’t but if I’d find evidence that he did this then I couldn’t wait until I get my hands on him and then make him pay for all of this.”

Others began getting to work with the job of barricading as they listened to David’s story.

[Drawn by SamPostsStuff on Tumblr]

“Oookay?” Scarlett said as she listened to the conversion, David could only say to her, “You had no idea what he is capable off, he would make- no, force you to play his sick game like a puzzle or a riddle until you will “appreite” life and be “reformed” but I know that he is killing druggies and innocent people.”

Scarlett is a bit intrigued by his determination and she noticed that he had an obsession with this Jigsaw so she had decided to keep an eye on him to make sure he doesn’t become something possibly dangerous if it had gotten to the point of insanity after not catching the killer he had explained, but they had another objective to get it done first; Barricade the mall.

“Winch one entrance should we start off first?”  Scarlett asked over her shoulder, looking for a map of the mall as U!Takeo had said while looking at one map he had found “Entrance Plaza?” making others turned and looked at him who is still looking at the map confused.

[From Dead Rising Fandom Wiki, the map from the First Dead Rising Video Game]

They looked at the map and they are both amazed and confused to see the map, except for Engineer, Pyro, Medic, Spy and Miss Pauling who knew what this map had meant and she noticed a promment that had the same map on it. With all the names of each store and everything that is useful to their advantage.

Miss Pauling looked at it for a moment as she knew this could be useful later and she did think about that Alex Mercer who had meet them earlier and would try to join them to face against whatever threat is to them, she then hurryingly stuffed it in her pouch for later.

*You had gotten the map of Willamette Shopping Mall! *It could be useful for future use. *That or just kill time in a mall like this.

Miss Pauling looked at the text below her and made a mental note to acknowledge it in the future, looking over to the entrance as well with her teammates before saying “Alright, Entrance Plaza it is. Best to work.” to everyone around her.

“Then let’s get started barricading.” U!Dempsey said as he walked over to a pile of thin-ish wood planks and picked them up. P!Richtofen and Scarlett looked at each other and then going over to the wooden beam and then them working together, picked it up with their hands, Scarlett’s being gloved and Richtofen’s bare handed, he didn’t complain since they are in the middle of another zombie outbreak but he had hoped this couldn’t be worse than the one back in Northern France.

Spy stood there, presiding as he took another drag of smoke and then said “Best to do what she said, gentlemen.” as he looked over to the Engineer and Med who nodded as the Texen picked up a few scattered wooden boards and a hammer.

Diego ad been watching them from the stairs been watching when he noticed Pyro had started up the stairs and he didn’t mind it since this is another time he had during the heist that went wrong and started an outbreak on the Titanic, the ship that had sunk into the ocean’s cold embrace of water. But he had remembered that everyone that had turned into zombies had returned to normal after they finished the trial and seeing the gateway that Shaw had identified Delphi, Greece and… He hardly remembered what happened next. He knew that he needs to try harder on remembering how they all got there.

“I wonder who that victorian girl is, she seemed familiar…” Richtofen thought as he and Scarlett made their way to the entrance, he looked at it once again and made note of it mentally if they break the glass of the door and grabbed him, he will not hesitate to fight back when needed.

They then placed it when Engineer walked over as well and with Shaw’s help, they hold the board up on one of the doors and then hammered the nails in with each hit. Diego and Medic had picked up a bench and moved it at the doors.

People of the small town of Willamette simply watched before deciding to not to stand around being victims and then be survivors like they were in a movie set or something. Then much like clockwork; they helped them barricade the entrance after their group had spent seven minutes to warm up the barricading for the townsfolk.

Feeling a bit tired, Richtofen decided to rest easy as he pressed against a pillar and then slid down as Medic and Scarlett looked over their shoulders to see this. They go over to him to see if he is alright but he relented “Don’t vorry, I’ll be alright, I’m just tired.” as they kneel down to his level.

“Are you sure?” Scarlett asked, Richtofen nodded as he looked at her. “I am sure, I zhink vith me staying up for so long fighting zhese zhings had me sleep deprived.” he continued as he rubbed his eye out of tiredness, Medic places his hand on his shoulder after he told him this and said softly “I understand, it had been tiring on our mission und being brought here. Rest easily mein friend.” with a smile, what he said softly is to make sure no one around them wasn’t able to year.

Richtofen wasn’t sure about but he nodded, he wasn’t used to sleeping like this with his bear as he watched them go off, possibly going back to barricading the entrance as he thought it that way. He felt too tired, he wanted to fight it, fight it ro stay awake before he knew that he’s losing as his eyes fluttered closed for a moment and then…

He snapped his eyes back open as he muttered “Nein! Nien… I can’t sleep now! Zhe entrance must be…” but then he looked around his surrounds as he finished “Closed off…?”

There were people here before, his teammates, the survivors, zombies… Everyone. But now, it was completely deserted, empty, like they had been erased from existence as Richtofen got back on his feet and then looked around. “Hello? Scarlett? Miss Pauling? David?” he called out as he walked around the area, the barricade is still up to winch it was a relief to him.

“Vhere is everyone?” he questioned to himself, “Edward… Please, keep yourself together, zhey must’ve gone someplace else, getting more zhings for zhe barricade.” he reassured himself as he noticed something in his eyesight.

A white rabbit with a top hat and a pocket watch, it’s eyes seemed familiar, one eye is green yet the other eye was white, it clicked in his mind that it is blind in one eye. He found himself in a staring contest with the white rabbit as it- as he looked back at him.

Then finally, he said with Stanton Shaw’s voice; “Come quickly, Eddie, we must go to her. We must not be late.” before he taps on his watch to the puzzled Doctor before turning around and then runs off as the gate opens up for him.

Richtofen then found himself running off to go after the white rabbit as he called out “Wait! Stant- I mean Rabbit! Wait!” as he ran as fast as his legs can carry him, hoping to gain some speed on him. He was surprised that the White Rabbit had been around Shaw’s height and he can run and then hopped every now and then as they run across the mall.

“Wait! Rabbit! Wait for me! Vhat do you mean by “Her”?” he yelled out after him as the White Rabbit slid on the floor and then went into another section of the mall: Paradise Plaza.

“Wait!” he called out again as he enters the plaza but he was shocked to see that the White Rabbit had disappeared, he looked around the plaza as he looked around for him but he can’t see him. “Vhere did he go…? Und vhy does he sound like Shaw?” he thought as he continued to look around. He then heard a crack and then felt a jolt from before.

He looked at his feet and his eyes widen when he saw that the floor he is standing on is breaking, another cranked and he was about to run off the breaking floor but it was too late for him to do that as the floor gave way and he fell through it with a yell.

A voice he heard was a man’s voice, it sang:

I invite you to a world where there is no such thing as time.

He listened to that voice closely as he felt some comfort from it strangely as he fell down the hole, the Rabbit Hole he had fallen into.

And every creature lends themselves to change your state of mind. And the girl that chase the rabbit, drank the wine and took the pill. Has locked herself in limbo to see how it truly feels.

Wonderland, that answer to that riddle is Wonderland but Richtofen is confused yet continued to listen as he felt a cool wind wrapping around him.

To stand outside your virtue, no one can never hurt you. Or so they say…

Her name is Alice.

She crawls through the window, shaped in shadows.

Alice Alice

And even though she’s dreaming, she knows.

Richtofen was lost in the song before everything around him had gone black, he can’t see through the pitch black darkness and he couldn’t feel anything but a cool wind around him and his body.

He then see a clearing from below him as he found himself floating down gently, a cyan blue glow had revealed that he is wearing different clothing, he looked at his gloved hands and then at the trench coat as he landed on his feet softly on the sand.

[Reference sheet of P!Richtofen’s Wonderland costume “Dead Wonderer” by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter”]

“How unusual…” he spoke softly, dumbfounded, he then noticed on his side it was a holder and it meant to be a knife. “It seemed to be empty.” he said as he looked around and slowly realized…

He is under water, literally, there’s seaweed, coloral, fish and crabs anywhere and everywhere. At first, he panicked, he began swimming but then realized that he wasn’t drowning as he thought as he slowed down the pace while he breathed in water and air bubbles coming out.

“How… How is zhis possible?” He asked as he looked at his hands in disbelief, “How can I breath underwater vhen I don’t have gills as fishes do?” he questioned, he looked down at his feet as he placed his hands on his head as he breathed more in hopes of calming down his heart rate but something shiny hits his eye. He blinked and then looked at object that is reflecting the light.

There, in the rock was a knife, a Vorpal Knife wedged into it and his reflection had his attention. He wasn’t sure why but he was mesmerized by it and walked towards it with a calming pace, he walked towards the rock and then gently grabs the knife by the handle and then… Pulled it out of its place.

He examined the knife and each detail of it, his fingers had touched the blade and felt it’s smooth touch. “Vhat is zhis knife? It had a different metal from vhat I remembered.” he asked internally to himself.

“It is the Vorpal blade you had in your hands.” a voice echoed out, he turned around with the verbal knife in his right hand, ready to fight as he looked around for the voice. “Is there someone there?” he caugtion, as he kept his eyes open for anyone who will appear.

“Or something?” a voice cooed out, it sounded close in his ear and that made him jump at the voice and slashed in thin air. He looked around for the voice with his feet having a mind of their own as he walked around and then questioned “Who are you?”

“Who am I?” it answered, sounded offended, “You should know me, Edward Richtofen. You know my tricks and my stripes in stories. Ticks and fruits are often ripes for each taking.” it continued, he was surprised that the voice knew his name but left out the “Doctor” from it. “I must be losing it but…” He muttered to himself before letting out another question.

“Vhere are you?”

“Follow the grin I wore, so you will be krin to know who I am as you are sore.” the voice said softly as Richtofen clearly felt the voice is actually grinning when it spoke out a hint, hint within a riddle.

He then looked around with caution as he held tightly on the knife in his hands as he walked around in a swordsman's pace. His eyes scanned the area for anyone or anything but didn’t see who the voice belongs to but then thought about the riddle for a moment and then it clicked in his head; Find the grin.

He then continued to look around for anyone who had a grin and then noticed a wall of the cave he’s in, he realized that it had a very defying detail on it; a grin and it’s eyes opened up. Richtofen gasped at the sight in disbelief.

Then the rest of hit’s body appeared, his body in detail that is very familiar to him yet at the same time; it was unfamiliar at the same time.

It was the Cheshire Cat but vaguely resembles a Sphinx cat, with its very thin coat of fur and thin body shape. The Cheshire Cat has taken an emaciated, almost skeletal appearance; his bones can be seen through his fur-less, gray skin. His decaying starved appearance is suggestive of a cat carcass that has been rotting for years.

He has a large head and paws, a disturbingly human-like smile which is sometimes seen spattered with blood, a long neck, sharp claws, big pointed ears, and a long tail with a tuft of fur on the end. He wears a gold hoop earring in his right ear, and his skin is covered with black markings similar to tribal tattoos. His smile looks maniacal, and he appears to have under-grown yellow incisors that are covered in blood. His eyes are also green, and glow with a bright, illuminating light.

“Congrations, Edward, you had found me.” he said as he walked over to him as he looked at the cat with confusion and disbelief. “It can’t be… You can’t be real…” He uttered as Cheshire Cat stops with a constant smile. “I can be, I can not be but here, it’s either winch.” he said in a rhyme and cryptic tongue, “As much you prefer me to be but I prefer my own choices, much to an ice on a cake much as your mind would rake.” he continued as he hopped onto a broken old beam that was once a part of an old world ship.

Richtofen seemed annoyed at this but watching the cat walking as he said “If you are real, then do such things so I can confirm that I am losing mein mind.”

Cheshire Cat seemed to like the idea and then said “Persistent one, are you Richtofen?” as he stopped near a rusted flag pole before finishing “Since you had offered, I do insist.” and then walking but didn’t come out on the other side of the flagpole. He had disappeared once again, Richtofen was surprised to see this and walked over to the flagpole to see if he had used a flag to disappeared but he realized quickly that the pole is missing the flag.

Richtofen didn’t realized that Cheshire had reappeared again but this time, from behind him as he looked at him.

[Drawn traditionally by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter]

“Is this proof that you are needed, Edward?” he spoke up, making Richtofen turned around in shock, he then shook his head and then walked back to the rock where he had picked up the Verbal Knife and then placing it back in place.

“Zhis is enough, vhen I placed zhis back you will just disappear.” Richtofen said as he did this but Cheshire is still in fact there, in the full view of Edward’s, he floated upwards in the air/water and padding around him as he said “When you do that, and who are you be?”

Richtofen sneered a glare at the cat and said in a confrontal yet calm voice he can muster, “I am not insane, I am a doctor und I vill leave zhis nonsense including you behind und forget zhat zhis had happened!” as he began to walk away but Cheshire Cat stops him “Alright, be on your way then. I can not stop you but she would be disappointed that you’re not coming.” he relented that made Richtofen stopped in his tracks.

“Vho is she?” Richtofen asked under his breath, sensing the Cat is walking over to him and gone in front of him with the same grin he wore. “Alice, her name is Alice Liddel, I believe to an ace that you know her.” he answered, as he disappears and then reappears next to the Vorpal blade as he said this next.

“As for the Vorpal blade in hand,” as the knife has widge itself free from its place, then floated over to him as Richtofen turned around to see the Cheshire Cat but to see a floating knife coming towards him. He yelled out in surprise but watched at the knife had lends itself a handle for him to grab.

“It’s your and Alice’s only weapon in Londerland, a mix of London and Wonderland been put together as one. It is your only weapon to ensure your sanity, if you manage to get to her with it then you will be brought back to your realm that is reality to you. Shall you take this deal or not?” he spoke again with his paw gestures for him to take the Vorpal blade.

Richtofen was thinking about it for a moment as he spoke on his mind, “If I refuse, I will go… Gone insane as my original self but if I do….” He then cursed under his breath as he had made his choice and then grabbed the Vorpal Blade.

*You have gotten the Vorpal Blade! *The knife made from the metal that had slayed the Jabberwocky in one of Alice’s stories. *Best to hold onto it for now.

“I am now more insane than myself.” Richtofen sighed in defeat, “Now,” Cheshire Cat began with the same grin but it felt like it was satificanified, “we must go to meet her now, when and how then again I will lead the way.” he said then he hopped off and walked off, before P!Richtofen could walk off after him, he noticed something at his point of view, a small purple 4 pointed star, just flickering softly of it’s own light as it had rested on top of a treasure chest.

He wasn’t sure why but he was once again curious and then walked over to it, he was hesitant to let his hand touch it as thoughts about the star; was it a 115 star? Was the Apothicans doing this? Was Dr. Monty doing this?

His hand had neared the star when the Delta pendent glowed purple once again, he looked at it with looks of bewilderment, he lightly touched with his other hand and then turned to the star again. Then a text appeared before him, it said:

[Dead Wonderland (P!Richtofen’s Mental World)]

*First we are taken from our respective universe and now this?

*If I want to know more, I must persevere.

[Drawn by Nan14Bread on Tumblr]

[ED. RICHTOFEN  LV 45  11:52]

[Dead Wonderland - Mental Realm]

>Save           Return

Richtofen holds his hand as he looked at the text as the necklace continued to glow, he then looked at the word “Save” that is glowing yellow, he once again reaches his hand out to the text and then accidentally pressed it.

[ED. RICHTOFEN  LV 45  11:54]

[Dead Wonderland - Mental Realm]

[File saved]

[HP restored]

“Incredible…” Richtofen muttered in amazement as he saw a swirl of purple magic surrounded him and felt the same warm feeling deep down, he felt new and resurrected for a strange reason. He was thinking about it for barely a minute when Cheshire Cat reappeared once more and called out “Are you coming, Edward?”

He snapped his head up again before running over to the cat to catch up, he looked back at the star one last time before turning his attention to the pendent he’s wearing, he recognized the greek symbol due to the shape of it like this “Δ” and was confused on why he is wearing.

“I hope for your sake zhat Alice is here, isn’t she?” Richtofen said as he placed the knife in its sheath while he walked along the sandy road with Cheshire Cat walking beside him. “Eye of the storm is often to stream of voices along the path to your Otherland.”

“Otherland?” he asked, looking at him with curiosity as he tried to avoid the fish heading their way. “Mental states of mind, Edward, her ability to travel into their worlds freely whenever she pleases. With yours is quite…. Starting to say the least or the rather of it is quite lasting nightmares.” the Cat had explained as Richtofen listened to him while he looked around.

“Do you think that I had-” he was beginning to say but Cheshire had used his paw to halt him, looking alerted and said “Best to get out your weapon, we had unexpected company.” before disappearing.

Richtofen looked around as he got the knife out and readied himself for anything that can fight back, then he saw the same creatures, the Hallows but they all looked…. Different than before.

(Two types: Alpha Hallow and Omega Hallow, created by Broken yet drawn by Meaghan “Icefir” Halter)

It was as tall as a velociraptor as it nearly looked like one but with dog bones mixed, fur had covered it’s neck as it gone from its head all the way back to the tip of its tall, more cracks are all over its body, antennas are longer and almost instinct like.

He readies himself for the fight against this different type of Hallow.

[bethhxrmon]

All I Ask of You Pt 5

“Live in my house, I’ll be your shelter.” -”I’ll Cover You” from RENT

Pairing: Peter Parker x Original Female Characters

Word Count: 4,014

Warnings: The tiniest bit of angst, cussing

Summary: The one with some relationship development

A/N: Not much canon character action in this one whoops! Tell me what you think!

MASTERLIST

           What Annie needed to do was redesign the White Swan costume. Remaking her beaten up costume into a dream suit was easier said than done. It wasn’t even designing the suit that made things difficult, though drawing was far from her forte and the suit hardly ever looked proportional to an actual body. The difficult part was finding the time to draw inconspicuously without anyone seeing just what she was doing. Getting caught drawing her suit and having someone figure out her superhero alias would have been the death of the girl.

           On a chilly, late November morning, Annie laid on the dark yellow carpet of her bedroom while sketching the suit. She didn’t lay on her pillowtop mattress because of how likely it was that she would crawl under her purple comforter and fall back asleep. There were various showtunes playing in the background coming from her laptop that was sitting on her desk across the room as she tried to work. It wasn’t just any showtunes, though, they were a playlist of all the possible audition songs she had been thinking about between Ned, Peter, and herself. Even songs for future use for herself were being thought of. Annie simply couldn’t get herself to stop multitasking.

           Besides, part of what had convinced Peter and Ned to audition was her promise to find the songs for them. That promise was easier said than done, though. Finding simple songs that weren’t overused was quite the challenge. Only because she was normally looking for soprano pieces, not tenor and bass ones. Though the time spent in her room was cut short when she decided that the solution to her losing focus due to being tired was coffee instead of getting more much needed sleep after the long night she’d had coupled with regular patrolling and talking to Spider-Man.

~*~*~*~*~

           “Did I ever tell you about the time I stole Captain America’s shield?” Spider-Man asked, shoving some nachos supreme in his mouth.

           Annie rolled her eyes as she swallowed some of her taco, “Yep, only every other time we get food, you say something about that damn fight in Germany.

           “Oh… well, I mean I fought Ant-Man while he was giant… Germany was really cool, you know. You would’ve probably liked it,” the male replied with a shrug.

           Annie’s jaw dropped, “What the hell?! That guy was, like, my idol!”

           “He’s a war criminal… you know that, right?” Spider-Man questioned, his eyes squinting almost as though he were accusing her of something.

           Annie gave a small shrug, “He’s a good guy though, morality is perceptive… you’re just getting all defensive because you have your dick out for Tony Stark.”

           “Do not!”

           “Do too!

           “I wasn’t getting defensive, Swan, but you’re siding with people who were helping a murderer,” the male hero pointed out.

           Annie scoffed, “You and I both know James Barnes was a prisoner of war first. That was mind control, all that shit wasn’t his fault.

           “But he killed people, that’s not right. It was someone’s fault,” Spider-Man replied.

           Annie shook her head, “Then blame the people who put him in that situation. Not the guy who was caught in the middle of everything.”

           “So… what you’re saying is that if you were in Germany we wouldn’t have been on the same side, would we?” he questioned.

           She shook her head, tugging on her white hood, “I’m afraid not, Spidey… but we argue a lot anyways, does that surprise you?”

           Spider-Man shrugged in response and they both ate in silence the rest of the time. Though, Annie wasn’t sure how to feel about it. She hadn’t been involved in the fight, and maybe that was for the best. The side she’d been on was decided to have been in the wrong, but she wasn’t sure she cared. Maybe she just needed to stop thinking about it.

           “Um… anyways, are there any girls you’ve been crushing on?” Annie asked in an attempt to change the subject.

           Spider-Man looked over quizzically, “You’re asking me about girls?”

           “Well unless you’re into guys, that’s totally cool too. I was just wondering, obviously you have a life outside of this,” Annie responded.

           Spider-Man sighed a bit, “Okay, fine. I guess that there’s this one girl…”

~*~*~*~*~

           Of course, the coffee machine was still unpacked and most likely buried in one of the boxes that was supposed to have been unpacked, but between her parents and herself being busy it just wasn’t done. That also meant that there probably weren’t any coffee grounds either, so she wasn’t going to bother digging through all the unpacked boxes that were left precariously around the apartment. She had been living in the new apartment for nearly a month and she still couldn’t make coffee there.

           “Hey, dad, I’m going to the corner store for some coffee, you want something?” she asked, watching as her father was creating a slide show on his desktop computer. It was most likely for one of his university lectures, and he would most likely come back and complain about how nearly none of his students had nearly enough passion for the topic. That was how it was with Annie’s dad, people were never interested in his passions even if they actually were.

           It took the black-haired man a few moments to look up from his computer screen, “Oh, um, yes, could you get me a black coffee?”

           “Yep, have fun making that lecture, dad,” Annie commented as she pocketed the money that her father handed her.

           The man hardly looked up from the computer as she left. That didn’t exactly surprise Annie, but sometimes it left her feeling a bit ignored. Sometimes, more often than not in reality, it felt like he barely noticed her. It felt as though she could get up and run away and he would never even notice. It wasn’t that Carter Hardwick was neglectful. At the end of the day, he would seem to care about her in his own odd way, but work often came before her. Annie had commented on it before, but he would just point out the amount of money that he made from being a professor. It was to the point that she had stopped trying to point out that maybe, just maybe, he should focus on her and her mother a little bit more than he did. A part of her just wished that money didn’t matter.

           Most of the time, Annie wouldn’t bring up how much her mother made from being a lawyer. Let him justify his bullshit, she thought as she walked down the block. It wasn’t like she had ever gotten him to stop, and she had spent years trying to do just that. A cool breeze cut through the black leggings Annie wore and she tugged her dark blue hoodie around herself. The late November chill proved that Thanksgiving was less than a week away, meaning that Christmas as well as the audition were just around the corner.

           Walking into the store, the first thing she felt was the warmth of walking inside, the heated air feeling amazing against her cool legs. Then, Annie did a double take as she scanned the store. A girl with crutches and short, kinky black hair seemed to be looking around at some of the candy and chips. It was definitely Tina, there was no question about that.

           The initial plan was to avoid her at all cost. She didn’t have to go anywhere near Tina, there was no reason to even talk to her in the first place. It wasn’t like the other girl would outright accuse her of being a superhero, but that didn’t ease her racing heart. While, walking over to her to see how she was doing did feel tempting, Annie doubted that it was worth it. She just wouldn’t take any risks, not today when she was still rubbing the sleep from her eyes. However, there was only one way to get to the coffee and that involved passing by Tina. They were complete strangers, though, it would be fine. Her costume had kept her hidden for a few years, it could continue to do so for ten seconds or less. At least, that was what Annie kept telling herself in attempt to calm herself down. There was nothing for her to worry about. Although, that wasn’t going to plan when walking behind Tina completely surprised her. It had caused Tina to fall, of course, she couldn’t just leave Tina on the ground like that.

           “Shit! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that, oh my god I am seriously so sorry,” Annie rambled, offering a hand to help the other girl up.

           Tina had a frown as she accepted the hand and used a crutch to get herself to stand back up, “You coulda said something. Ya know, told me you were coming behind me.”

           “R-right, I’m really sorry about that. Seriously, I could get you something to make it up to you,” Annie offered, looking at the linoleum floor.

           Tina shook her head, “No, I don’t need your pity.”

           “It’s not about that, I just wanna help,” Annie insisted, crossing her arms.

           Tina huffed, “I don’t need it.”

           “But, Tina, you do, just- “

           “How do you know my name?”

           Annie gulped and choked on the mixture of saliva and air in her throat. Her light brown face turned into a shade of bright red. She mentally kicked herself as she tried to think of an excuse. Only, there wasn’t one. It was just her being stupid and not thinking before she spoke. Maybe she should have just laid on her bed and slept instead of trying to persevere through her exhaustion.

           Tina blinked, “Um… don’t die?”

           “I uh… I work at the soup kitchen,” Annie replied with coughs in between some of her words.

           The other girl glared, her dark brown eyes almost looking like they turned completely black, “That’s bullshit and you know it. Are you stalking me?”

           “No, not that at all, I swear. Woah woah woah, you can put that crutch down I’m not gonna hurt you… put that crutch down… ow! Fucking hell!” Annie exclaimed as the crutch dug into her foot, earning a few weird looks from the handful of people in the store.

           The crutch only dug into her foot more. It was placing just the right amount of pressure to where it was nearly unbearable. Annie couldn’t even stop a barrier of energy from forming and then bursting, pushing the crutch off. Thankfully it had just been Tina and herself there to see it. What left Annie worried was whether or not she would do something else like that again. It wasn’t like she was trying to make a point, it just kind of happened. Almost as though she had lost control for a split second, but she stopped worrying as much once nothing else happened.

           “Oh… you’re-“

           “Not here, okay? Let me buy my coffee and get you something too. Then we can talk about it,” Annie pleaded, her light brown eyes widened as she hoped that there wouldn’t be any confrontation right in front of so many people.

           Tina gave a sigh, almost like she was still contemplating her decision, “Okay, fine… but you owe me a huge explanation.”

           “Of course, yeah, I’ll do that. And you’ll get it. Just not this second, okay?”

           Getting two cups of black coffee and a bottled, sweetened black tea took all of five minutes. The whole time, the brunette’s heart was racing and she felt like she could throw up all over the polite cashier. No one had ever found her out before this. Yes, people had gotten close, but that hardly meant anything unless they actually knew her true identity. There were now so many ways that Tina could get back at her. Though, Annie hoped that wouldn’t be the case. At least, that was what she kept thinking as she stuffed the change into her hoodie pocket. If more people found out who she was, she would probably spontaneously combust and then she would never have to deal with keeping secrets ever again.

           “Also, we gotta take a detour to my place, this extra coffee was for my dad,” Annie explained as she walked out of the store with Tina, the cold air practically slapping her in the face.

           A cold breeze passed through again, causing Annie’s long, dark hair to get in her face. With both hands holding onto the corner store coffees, she couldn’t get the annoying strands of hair out of her face. All she could do was keep her mouth closed so none of her hair would get into her mouth. She had already choked on her own spit, she didn’t want to choke on her own hair next. At least her hands were warm. She couldn’t imagine holding a cold drink in the chilled weather.

When she glanced at Tina, she felt a pang of guilt as she saw the other girl moving slowly with her crutches and cold drink. There she was, dragging the other girl around when that was probably all Tina had gone through for who knew how long. Still, Annie knew that her dad would probably say a few things if she didn’t get him his coffee. Plus, Annie hadn’t planned on seeing Tina in the first place. Then again, it wasn’t like Annie was keeping the other girl hostage. She had questions and wanted answers, answers that Annie did feel were justified.

           Once the girls made it to the apartment building, Tina cleared her throat, “Do I go up with you?”

           “Yeah, j-just say you’re my new friend if anyone asks,” Annie replied, leading the way into the tall building.

           Getting to the apartment, Annie didn’t know what was sadder, that her dad never questioned Tina walking in or that the landlord asked a bunch of questions about the other female. Thankfully, Tina played it cool as they left. It wasn’t that Annie wanted her dad to give Tina the third degree, but she wanted her dad to act like he cared more often. She wished he would have said hello or who he was, something that she thought normal parents did. Sure, Annie wasn’t their blood-related child, but she thought that meant that her parents had made the conscious choice to care about her. The more Annie grew up, the more it felt like only her mom had made that decision.

           Tina huffed as they continued to walk some more, “Where are you taking me? This hobbling around hurts like a bitch,”

           “Just across this street. You just gotta be patient,” Annie responded, rolling her eyes a bit.

           “Says the one who’s not on crutches.”

           “Says the one who tried to crush my foot.”

           “Touchè.”

           Annie and Tina made their way into the library. It took a moment to find an empty space where they wouldn’t have to worry about being overheard. Though, it took a bit, Annie hadn’t thought it took that long. However, the sigh that Tina let out seemed to say otherwise. The enclosed room was walled with green glass. Annie wasn’t sure where to start, so she took a big drink of her black coffee.

           “So, what’s your name anyways?” asked Tina.

           The other girl swallowed the warm liquid, “Annika, but everyone just calls me Annie.”

           “Hmm… so what’re you really trying to do, talking to me?” Tina asked, opening her tea.

           Annie bit her lip in thought, “With what? With you or with my own image as a hero or?”

           “No, obviously, why’re you helping me?”

           “Because you deserve better than you’re getting, than you’ve gotten in the past.”

           “How would you know what I deserve?”

           “I know because no one, and you listen to me Tina, no one deserves to be hurt in the way that you were.”

           “You really think that?”

           “Yes! Of course I do. I’m not a hero just for the glory… then I would’ve quit a long time ago, because there’s not much glory in it all.”

           Tina nodded a little bit, “So, that Spider-Man guy… what’s your deal with him?”

           “Honestly, I have no fucking clue. I know he’s a bit… ah what’s the word for it?”

           “Awkward yet cocky?”

           “Sure, but his heart’s in the right place, I wouldn’t say cocky… anywho, I thought maybe we could be friends or something like that.”

           “Oh, no way. You’re saying that to break me down and find out more about me and to get me even more roped into whatever it is that you and that other guy have planned.”

           “It’s not that at all! You need someone to talk to. I know what it’s like to be alone, just let me help you, could you do that?”

           Of course, Annie wanted to know more relating to the case she was trying to crack that had everything to deal with Tina. Why wouldn’t she want that? But the poor girl in front of her was in desperate need to talk to someone. It was written in the bags under her nearly black eyes. She needed someone there for her, anyone. If talking to Tina in the past had told Annie anything, it was that she was exceedingly lonely. Odds were that Tina couldn’t get through what was happening if she were left alone. Annie worried that she would just go back to the man who had treated her so cruelly. She could get away with it too, given how little information she and Spider-Man had.

           “You won’t tell your hero friend about any of this, will you?”

           “No, I-I’m not trying to be involved like that. This is just me being normal and trying to be your friend simply because that’s what I want.”

           “Normal people don’t hang out with homeless teens,” Tina pointed out, her dark eyebrows raised.

           “Eh, I was never super normal to begin with, powers or not.”

           For the first time in weeks, Annie found herself getting to Tina. It wasn’t by much, but they were just talking. Not about the past that led them to the positions that they were currently in, no, they talked about regular things. Favorite movies, getting jobs, starting at new schools, the things that regular friends talked about on a regular day. Things like how Tina wouldn’t be going to Midtown, but rather some normal high school somewhere in the neighborhood. Annie wished they would be at the same school, though, for the sole purpose of no longer being the token new-girl.

           They continued talking for hours. Tina didn’t say a thing about being trafficked, but she listened as Annie blabbered on about the school musical and her other friends. Occasionally, Tina would say something, but she tended to avoid saying anything of substance. As much as Annie wanted to comment on it, she knew it wasn’t the time or the place.

           Though, they did have to go home eventually and when they got to the homeless shelter, Annie hugged Tina.

           “If you need anything, call me, I gave you my number for a reason, okay?” Annie said, looking at Tina dead in the eyes.

           Tina gave a nod that seemed reluctant, “Okay, but I’m safe now, honestly. I’m just trying to finish school and get back on my feet.”

           Annie gave a nod, “I know, but I also know that shit happens. So when it does, I’m here.”

           It didn’t matter if Tina would tell her anything about being hurt or not. Annie truly did just want to help. For a moment, being successful or powerful wasn’t what mattered to her. That was all the motivation that she needed to throw herself back into being a multitasking hero who kept promises to as many people as she could. Whether she knew them that well or not. It gave her enough energy to continue getting things done at a million miles a minute. Maybe trying to do things so quickly wasn’t the best idea, but that hardly mattered to Annie either.

           That Monday, Annie had gone through the day with more energy than she thought she could have had. There was this spring in her step as she finally felt herself accomplishing some of her goals. At least, she had better ideas for the auditions that she could hardly wait to tell Peter and Ned about. Not to mention how the suit she had a sketch of in her dresser drawer was starting to come together. Though, it didn’t seem that the boys were talking about anything that she was thinking of.

           “What time do you want us over on Thursday?” Ned asked Peter as Annie sat down.

           Annie cocked her head, “What’s so special about Thursday?”

           “Um… I don’t know, maybe the fact that it’s Thanksgiving? Come on, get with it!” Ned exclaimed, sounding incredulous.

           Peter nodded a bit, “Yeah, did you have any plans for Thursday? I mean, I’m sure my aunt would love to meet you. I mean, it could be fun.”

           When the girl took a moment to step back, she could remember her mom saying something about her dad being gone on some literature conference in Philadelphia for the holiday. Her mom had wanted to do something, but there was still so much happening with getting settled in and it just being the two ladies in the apartment that day anyhow. Though, perhaps she could get the chance to bring Tina along too. To show that she was being serious about just being friends for the sake of friendship, not to get ahead.

           “Well, would it be okay if there were two other people? I could make some food to help make up for it,” Annie offered before adding, “I make a great potato salad.”

           Peter shrugged, “I don’t see why not, but you don’t need to make anything… who were you thinking about?”

           “Oh, well, there’s my mom and then this one girl I met a few days ago, Tina, she’s kinda lonely and I think she could use the whole, having-people-around thing,” Annie explained, giving a tiny shrug, “She might not even come because, well, she doesn’t know you guys. It could be fun though!”

           Peter spat out his chocolate milk, the liquid getting all over his food. His eyes seemed to widen a bit and he looked like he was trying to say something to Ned with his eyes. Why Peter was reacting this way, she had absolutely no clue.

           “Is it because you’re nervous about meeting girls or something?” Annie asked teasingly with a small laugh.

           Peter shook his head, “No, uh, I just… needed to cough and I kinda did… you’re not bringing her to set one of us up, are you?”

           “No, no, it’s not that… I met her when I was getting coffee and I almost knocked her out. She’s been having a rough time and I wanna help,” Annie replied.

           Peter nodded, “Yeah, we got that… um sure, that’s fine,”

           Despite the words leaving the other boy’s mouth, Annie couldn’t help wondering if he had been telling the truth. Something told her that he was hiding something, but she didn’t have the ability to find out what. There was a reason as to why he had been so surprised, and she couldn’t understand why that was. Maybe it was because he didn’t know Tina and he really did have to cough. Something told her that wasn’t the case, though.

           However, Annie didn’t have enough motivation to figure out what was going through Peter’s head. Besides, it wasn’t like she was a mind reader. She controlled energy, not people. That was probably for the best, even if that meant she wasn’t able to know what Peter was doing. More importantly, how Ned was involved in whatever it was Peter was doing. Though, perhaps she was just looking into it too much and needed to get a full night’s rest before she started jumping to conclusions.

Tag list: @flushings-here / @upsidedownparker / @gaypanda / @ijustdontknowsometimes / @lionsfandomsandbearsohmy (just ask to be added to the tag list)

[crzcorgi]

Changes

John Winchester Love Week fanfiction

John Winchester x Reader (Y/N) eventually

Words~1800

Warnings ~ language

What happens when a stay at an ordinary motel turns extraordinary?

 I was afraid to go to sleep. Yes, a grown man fucking scared of his dreams. Dreams that have haunted me since that day. Dreams of her, my wife, my boys mother. The woman who was ripped from our lives, from our hearts, by some unknown entity, a monster. That I swore I would hunt down even if it takes me a lifetime.

 Revenge, it’s what fueled me. That and keepin’ my boys safe. Safe from things out there that until my Mary’s death I never knew existed. They were after us, I didn’t know why, but I knew it. My Dean, my Sammy, Mary’s boys, I had to keep them safe.

 So here I sat at the rickety motel table, pouring myself another whiskey, and trying to drink the nightmares away. Every night, those dreams never giving me a rest.

   “Dad?”

 “Whatta you doing’ up Dean? Go back to sleep buddy, you’ve got school in the morning.”

 He walked over to me, shuffling his bare feet. God help me if he didn’t look a bit more like Mary every time I looked at him. He came over and just looked up at me from under his eyelashes. “I had a bad dream again.”

 Fuck.

 It’s one thing for me to go through this living nightmare. But my boy, Jesus, God, Mary, whoever is listening, why do my boys have to suffer? I sighed.

“Come here son.”

 He walked closer to me, close enough for me to pick him up in my arms. I pulled him tightly to my chest, his head snuggling under my chin. I slowly rubbed my hand up and down his back, placing a kiss on the top of his head.

 “I miss momma.”

 Shit

 “I do too buddy. I do too.”

  After awhile I realized he had fallen asleep, I slowly  stood up and carried him across the room. I carefully placed him back beside his little brother in their shared bed. I hesitated, just watching them sleep. I then climbed in beside my oldest, his arm coming up and draping over me.

 Maybe this could be a restful, dreamless, night.

  “Daddy! Daddy!!”

 I woke up to a bright light and a tiny body sitting on my chest.

 “You gots to get up, De gotta go!” Sammy was now poking at my face. I reached down and began tickling his sides, little peals of laughter coming forth from him. Between giggles he spoke, “Daddy! Stop Daddy, you gots to get weady!”

 I picked him up, placing him beside me as I sat up. “Alright dude, I’m up. Can you get dressed on your own?”

 “I’s fwee” He held up 4 fingers, contemplating if that was right. “I knows how to get dwessed!” He sounded indignant, making me silently snicker.

 I stood up, walking to towards the bathroom. Reaching the doorway, I saw the door was open and no Dean to be seen.

 I turned to see Sammy rummaging through his duffle. “Sammy, do you know where your brother is?” It wasn’t like him to disappear, he knew he had to ask permission before leaving the room.

 “He says not to tell you, but…” He wouldn’t look at me.

 Damn it Dean.

 “Sammy, it’s okay, you can tell me bud.”

 “He needs to do somefing for school. The nice lady in da ofwice is helping him.”

 Shit, he needs to tell me these things.

 “Okay, son, can you get dressed and stay here until I get back? I’ll lock the door. Maybe put on a cartoon?”

 “I cans do dat Daddy!”

 I hurried out the door, making sure it was locked, taking off for the office. Reaching the door, I opened it, stepping inside to an empty room.

 “Hello?” No answer. I walked up to the counter and rang the bell.  I turned to look out the window, swinging back around when I heard the shifting of the curtain hanging behind the desk.

   “I’m so sorry, I’m kinda busy back there, I don’t usually leave the desk, just helping a little…”

  Suddenly Dean appeared from behind the curtain, interrupting the woman. “Dad, I’m sorry, don’t be mad. Miss y/n was just helping me with my school project that’s due today.”

 I wanted to be mad, wanted to grab my boy and take him back to our room and ream him out. But I couldn’t. I was fucking mesmerized by this woman standing here. She had long y/h/c, beautiful y/e/c and a smile that made me wanna smile right back.

 Fuck.

 “Mr. Winchester, correct? I’m sorry, I thought you knew Dean was here. I volunteer in his classroom and offered to help him with his project. I do apologize.” She looked at me and I fucking melted.

I was in trouble.

 Dean stepped around the desk carrying what looked like an odd shaped box. “It’s a pyramid Dad! Y/N helped me make it.”

 I looked away from my unabashed starring to take a hold of Dean’s “pyramid” “Nice job buddy, did you thank Mrs…?”

 “He did, he’s a very polite young man. And it’s just y/n, and I’m not married.” I was smiling at her like a fucking teenager. Shit, I can’t do this. But there was something about her, the unexplained draw towards her, I’d never felt it before.

 I cleared my throat, “Well, thank you, y/n, very much. I, uh, my job, it makes it hard for me to, uh, help Dean with his schoolwork.” I couldn’t stop smiling at her. “So, really, thank you, it’s very much, um, appreciated.”

  “It’s no trouble at all Mr. Winchester, I understand all about a job keeping you from your children.” She looked down, her demeanor quickly switching, “all too well.”

 I missed her smile. “Just call me John,” She looked up at me, her beautiful smile returning. “Dean, lets go pick up Sammy and get you to school.”

 Dean turned and ran over to y/n, his arms sliding around her, giving her a tight hug. “Thank you y/n.”  Seeing my boy hugging a woman other than my Mary, his mom, fuck, I didn’t know what I was thinking, it was a mix of emotions. But the one that seemed to be most dominant wasn’t anger or sadness, which if I witnessed this a month ago would have been the definite answer. No, it was a feeling of warmth, something that felt like hopefulness. Something like home.

  “Okay Dean, you go get your baby brother.” She had moved her hands up to lightly grasp his head, placing a gentle kiss on the crown. Dean turned, starting to walk away. “Oh wait!” She gasped out. “I’m heading to the school in just a bit, would you like to ride with me Dean? If your dad says it’s okay?” She smiled at me, her head tipping to the side slightly.

 “Can I dad, please?” Dean looked up at me, giving me his brother’s patented puppy dog eyes.  

 “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” I looked over to y/n, watching her smile fade. And feeling like shit. I just couldn’t trust, not even someone that affected me the way she seemed to. But I’m sure she just thought I was a jackass.

  “Aww, come on dad!”

  “It’s okay Dean, I’ll see you at school anyway!” She tried to smile, I’m sure for his sake.

  “Okay.” He answered in a gruff tone, pushing past me and out the door.  

 “Dean! Don’t give your dad a hard time!” She yelled after him, sighing. “I’m sorry John.”  

 I wasn’t sure what to say it felt kinda awkward. “Uh, thanks for that, it’s just,” She had walked around the desk and was now standing beside me, her small hand landing on my arm.

  “It’s okay, I get it.” The way she looked at me, it was like we were sharing a secret. It confused me. Did she know what I did? But how could she? Did Dean slip up? No, he wouldn’t. One thing I was sure of, I was enjoying her warm hand on my arm more than I should have.

 Removing her hand from my arm she looked at me and smiled. “You need to grab your boys and I need to see where my sister is. Please tell Dean that he did a wonderful job on his pyramid and I will let Ms. Smith how hard he worked on it.”

 I grinned, I know I didn’t let him know nearly enough, but I was damn proud of that boy. He’s been through so much in his short life and yet he perseveres. Most days I feel like the shittiest fuck-up of a parent, the life I’ve forced my boys into. Yeah, I can blame that monster that took their mom. But the end of the day it’s my decision, my choice. So listening to y/n praise him, it meant I might be doing something right in how I’m teachin’ them.

  “Yeah, yes, I gotta go, but um, thank you again. It’s much appreciated. I don’t know if Dean told you but it’s just us men, their mom, my wife, she…” I choked up, trying not to get fucking emotional in front of her.

 “It’s okay John, I understand, truly.” She had stepped closer again, no hand on me this time, but a sad smile, and a look of understanding. “Hey, I don’t know what your plans are, or where your job will take you today. But I have a stew in the crock pot and I know it is way too much for just my sis and me, maybe you and your boys can join us? It’s not much but it’ll get you men out of that tiny room, not that our apartment is that much bigger.” She giggled, making me feel warm.

 My brain wanted to decline her kind offer. But my mouth had other plans and I just fucking blurted out, “Yeah, that sounds great, I’m sure Sammy would love something besides spaghettios. And Dean would wanna kick my ass if I said no.”

 “Great! I’ll be back by 4 so come on over anytime after that. If for some reason I’m not here, my sister will be.”

 I started walking towards the door. “Thank you again, y/n.”

 “No need to keep thanking me, John. Dean’s a great kid, I love spending time with him.” She moved right into my side, making me suck in a big breath. “Between you and me, most 8 year olds annoy the heck out of me, and I work with them!” She laughed, sending a chill throughout my body. “But Dean, he’s mature beyond his years, but still a kid, you know?”

 I nodded, once again feeling proud of my boy. “Well, I guess we’ll see you later then.”

 “You have a good day, John. And find yourself a bronze dagger.” She winked, turning and walking behind the desk and through the curtain.

 And left me standing there with my mouth open.

[dontshootmespence]

The Weather Must Be Getting To Me

A/N: Day 22 of the 25 Days of BAU Christmas! I just HAD to do the “we’re platonic but we’re snowed in...” prompt. Had to. I also saw the prompt “YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE?” And wanted to use that too. :D

Warnings: Smut

“I told you you were gonna be snowed in if you came over!” You yelled, laughing as Spencer tried in vain to open the door out of your apartment building.

Spencer kicked the door in mock rage. He had Christmas shopping to do. “Dammit! The Department of Public Works had to know this was coming! How were they not prepared?!” 

You couldn’t help but howl with laughter. “Spence, I fucking warned you and you decided to come over anyway. You’re stuck with me until this gets taken care of.”

Spencer knocked his head repeatedly against the glass before turning around to follow you back up the stairs. “See, this is what I get for stopping by to see my best friend after she was sick.”

“Again, Spence, I did tell you so.”

“Shut up.”

Opening the door, you shoved Spencer toward the couch and walked into the kitchen. The lobby downstairs was freezing. It’s what you got for cheap rent, but still, it was freezing and now you wanted hot chocolate. “You want some hot cocoa?” You asked.

“Yea, no marshmallows though.”

What? How? Why? How were you friends? “YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE?”

“We’ve been friends for seven years? How did you not know this?”

You stared into oblivion for a few moments before repeating yourself. “YOU DON’T LIKE MARSHMALLOWS IN YOUR HOT CHOCOLATE? WHY DO YOU HATE LOVE?”

“I don’t hate love!” He replied, taking the hot cocoa sans marshmallow (seriously what the fuck). He almost sounded offended. “It just dilutes the taste of the hot chocolate.”

“You mean it enhances it with creamy deliciousness! How are we even friends?”

“Bite me. And put on a movie.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“Yea, I’m not,” he laughed, taking a sip of his drink. “Seriously though. Can we watch something? Because otherwise I’m going to perseverate on the fact that I’m supposed to be shopping right now.”

“Of course,” you laughed. “How about Miracle on 34th Street?”

“Good by me.”

The movie didn’t matter. Within 15 you and Spencer had fallen asleep. Between both your jobs and the Christmas rush, it had been a rough week.

Two hours later you opened your eyes slowly, rubbing the metaphorical sand from your eyes with the back of your hand. As you moved to get up, you realized where you were. Somehow, in your sleep, you’d ended up on top of Spencer, your head rising and falling in time with his chest.

Immediately, you popped up, which jarred him awake.

“What happened?” He pushed himself up. “Were you sleeping on me?”

“No, of course not.” 

As he stood up, he mentioned that he was going to run down and check the snow situation. But no luck. “It still hasn’t been touched. Sometimes, I really hate the city.”

“It’s definitely love hate.”

After getting on the phone with the city to see what the fuck was their problem, you and Spencer stood in the center of the room in silence. “I’ve been doing nothing but working and sleeping and online shopping because I can’t bear to go into stores all week long. I’m either going stir crazy or the weather must be getting to me.”

“Seasonal affective disorder,” Spencer replied.

“It’s fucking stupid and it’s driving me crazy. The city needs to get off their collective asses and plow this bitch so I can at least go outside just for the joy of it even if the sun is barely out and isn’t going to do anything for me. I don’t feel like watching a movie, I’ve been drinking my weight in cocoa lately, and I’m just-”

All of a sudden Spencer’s lips crashed into yours. You melted into him slightly before realizing what was happening and pulling away. “What was that?”

“I wanted you to calm down.”

“And that was your way of going about it?”

“It works in the movies.”

“Movies.”

But...

“You are good at that though.”

“What?”

“What do you mean what? Kissing! You have nice lips. You should do that again.” Spencer had been your best friend forever, and sure you found him attractive, but it had never been like that. ...Right?

Spencer smirked. “I mean...I have more than once thought about crossing that line...but are you sure?”

Were you really going to make out and possibly sleep with your best friend? This could be the worst decision ever. Or maybe it would be the best? Fuck. Why were hormones so stupid? “I’m sure.”

“You know me, Y/N...I don’t do the one night stand thing. If we cross this line, I want to explore this aspect of our relationship.” He swallowed hard, as if he was hoping for a particular answer. Had he really had feelings for you for a while now? Why wouldn’t he have said anything? Shut up, brain. Just kiss him. 

No think for a minute you fucking idiot. 

Everyone you’d ever known had told you that finding a romantic partner boiled down to finding a best friend that you wanted to fuck. Spencer was your best friend. He knew everything about you. In seven years, you’d never fought. The only thing he’d ever kept from you were his apparent feelings. Otherwise, he told you everything. You were his sounding board, but it was never one-sided. He’d been there through crying jags over exes and the loss of your dad. “Okay,” you said softly as you stared at his perfectly heart-shaped lips.

That seemed to be enough for him.

His fingers entangled in yours as he closed the space between you and brought his left hand to graze the side of your face. The slight chill in the apartment dissipated as his lips touched yours again. How had you not even made-out until now? His lips were amazing. Gently, he pressed you into the wall and traveled down the side of your neck, nibbling slightly and causing you to whimper. 

Yours hands came up around the back of his neck and traveled through his hair, pushing him closer. Apparently, he liked that. Duly noted. Whenever you tugged at his hair, he tasted your skin more hungrily than before. “Get up here and kiss me,” you whispered as you smiled into his hair.

Spencer chuckled against you. His nose skated up the side of your face as he came up to look at you. “You are not the boss of me.”

“Yes, I am.”

His laugh reverberated through you when you kissed him. Pushing back against the wall, you lifted your hips to wrap your legs around him and went immediately to the buttons of his shirt. “Have you always wanted to undress me?” 

“Maybe...”

Within minutes, his shirt was on the floor and your own soon followed. In the years that you’d been friends, you though you’d seen every look that Spencer could’ve given you, but half naked before him brought a hunger to his eyes you hadn’t seen before. “You’re so beautiful.”

The affirmation made you blush. You wanted him. How this wasn’t apparent before you didn’t know, but you wanted him right now. You let your legs slide down his body and back toward the floor. What better way to spend a snowed in day?

“Let’s go inside,” you said, grabbing Spencer’s belt and leading him into your room. 

He took you off guard when you entered the room and picked you up, throwing you onto the bed and coming to hover over you. Again, you tangled your hands in his hair and coaxed him down your body, whimpering again at the feel of his lips against your skin. His fingers peeled back the delicate lace of your bra and grazed your nipples, bringing them to hardened peaks within minutes. “Kiss me,” you breathed.

Spencer gently clamped down on your nipple and rolled it around with his tongue while his hand slid down your jeans and played with your slick heat. “So wet...”

You reached down and put your hand over his, encouraging him to touch you more insistently. “For you. Please, Spence.”

Kissing down your body, he continued to play with your clit as he removed your pants with the other hand. He stepped out of his own pants and joined you back on the bed. After being friends for seven years, you would’ve thought that being naked with Spencer might have been weird, but it wasn’t. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. 

He peppered your body with kisses and moved down to your slit. With one fluid motion, his tongue traveled up along your folds. He devoured you - never sticking with one movement for too long lest you get used to it and come to quickly. “Please, oh my god, Spence. I’m...I’m...”

“Come for me.”

The second he spoke, you climaxed around him and tightened your legs around his head, riding out the high as he continued. “I had no idea you could do that,” you laughed. 

When he moved back up to kiss you, you tasted yourself on his lips and reached toward the bedside table for a condom, quickly sheathing him before placing the tip of his cock at your entrance. “Take me, Spence,” you breathed.

As he entered you, you cried out slightly, biting down on your bottom lip to keep from becoming too loud. His mouth fell open as your walls tightened around him, but he worked through the intense pleasure, slowly undulating his hips above you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and pushed on his lower back, silently giving him permission to fuck you harder.

“Oh fuck!” His cock hit that sensitive spot inside you. It was overwhelming and you reached back to grasp the bedpost. “Please. More. Oh fuck...”

“Y/N,” he said. His own hand reached up, covering yours as it gripped the post. “I’m going to come.”

“Please. I want you to. Please. Come with me, Spence.”

Mirrored like before, the second you spoke Spencer surged inside you, thrusting inside you one final time as he groaned. He let out a large huff of breathe as he fell at your side and clutched the blanket to his chest.

Wow, that was amazing, you thought to yourself. “Worth crossing boundaries for?” You asked with a smile.

“More than.” Turning into you, he gathered your body close and buried his head in your side.

After making out in bed for another 30 minutes, you got up and grabbed something to eat to see that the city had finally got some people out to plow the roads. “I do actually have to go shopping for gifts,” he said, coming up behind you and burying his head in your neck. “Wanna come with? Get out of the apartment for a while for something that isn’t work?”

“That sounds good,” you replied. 

Spencer blushed as you turned around to face him. “What?”

“Maybe...” he said, shuffling his feet behind him. “Maybe I can come back here after? Stay the night?”

“You just might be able to,” you teased. “Maybe we’ll even get snowed in again.”

@unstoppableangel8 @coveofmemories @iammostdefinitelyonfire26 @jamiemelyn @sexualemobitch @lukeassmanalvez @reddie-for-mileven @original-criminal-fanfics @lookwhatyoumademequeue @hogwarts-konoha @rt8815 @amarislestrange @bagelsofdoom @xxfeelmylovexx @psychoticantisepticeye @bitchinprentiss @dsgirl4987 @captainreid @teatimewithtiya @queenanneslace4 @the-awesome-one-with-pigtails @tippy06 @ultrarebelheart @static-001 @dependsonthering

[impertfectedchoices]

I Promise - PT.1

Prompt: In a Heartbeat

Ship: James X MC

POV: (Point of View): James

Word Count: 1511

Artist Comment: SO LIHHH, this is my first fan fiction! Woooooooh, perfect for people to look back and see where I’ve come. 😅

But I chose to write something like this because not only am I always curious about how significant others react if their spouse get hurt, and to see how much they reeeallllyyy care, but I wanted some angsty sad stuff with this being my first one. I’m still learning how to actually portray a character’s personality, so hopefully I did them justice. Plussss I also wanted to see his reaction, being in a somewhat similar situation. Like this. IM SORRY BAE, you don’t deserve this torture.😩

11:03am

“Well, when observing last month’s trends, it’s clear that everyone’s topic of interest leans towards midterms.”

Are you 100% positive you won’t need to stay? I can take a day off. Reyna wouldn’t mind covering for me at this morning’s meeting.

“When it comes to midterm finals, all the students go crazy trying to find quick crash study ideas, sir!”

I’m fine James, it’s just a small cold. Nothing I… *sniff* can’t handle! Plus you’ve been been with me since Monday, I got this!

“And the worse thing they can do, is look up Buzzfeed articles on: Ways to Pass Finals Without Studying!”

*Muffled laughter erupts from the staff amongst themselves*

And I don’t regret it, but okay. I just wouldn’t bare with myself if I didn’t ask.

“Uh… I think we should break off and do some researching.”

I’ll be okay James, I promise.

I love you.

Geez, so mushy, Heh!

She smiled up at me. You were to think she must’ve been carved by a true artist at their craft… because her smile was so mesmerizing. God, her laugh was so contagious. It dissolved any stress I thought I held in myself still. It seemed as if my mind lost its train of though just being able to hear her voice. Let alone, thinking about her. She was just genuinely captivating. I had to take her word for her word, I just needed to get through this meeting…

… but I love you too, my darling.

An uncanny smile glided giddily on her face, as my smile grew larger, and more effortless. It’s been a year, and she still remembered the “pet name” I opted for us to call each other. She was so disappointed she couldn’t just call me “Jamesies”, but-

“Um, James?”

And with a blink, I was drawn back in the library, standing in-front of the conference table; empty. I hadn’t noticed that everyone, once watching me; had moves toward separate tables & computers alike, fast at work. I was then able to distinguish the voice.

“Hey Reyna, sorry. I assumed I spa-“

“Spaced out? Yes, in the middle of the meeting.”

Had I really let my thoughts consume me that much? Normally, I’m able to regulate my thoughts enough to multitask. I’m able to focus on more than one thing, on the rare occasions that I do; and work productively.

“No one really noticed, I was able to stir things in the right direction. I let everyone know to go ahead and research on midterm finals and student procrastination with it.”

She was trying to reassure me. Reyna always had such a calm spirit underneath her steadfast & determined perseverance. She truly reminded me of myself, or in ways, something similar to Vasquez and I. Mentor and colleague. When the time comes, she’ll be capable to take MC’s place when she moves into my position. I’m blessed to have had MC’s help to hire her as a journalist to our team.

“Thank you Reyna,” She seemed to relax more after my reassurance. Patting her shoulder, I headed towards a vacant table. “Let me go do something productive, but I may need your help a little later with an interview ab-“

“Are you alright, James?”

I froze midway. Looking back at her, even from a distance; the concern was still very distinguishable. Could she notice? I had been pretty good at keeping my facial expressions indecipherable. It’s difficult for others to pick up on my feelings, if only but a guess. MC told me herself, that she found the task a challenge, although now, she has it down to a science. I really must be more worried than I assumed I had been.

“Pardon me?” She seemed to grow more hesitant at my surprised expression. Cautiously, she set her papers off to the side and took one step closer, growing more urgent.

“Um,” Clearing her throat, she took a breath, trying to expel what nerves she had left dwelling. “Well Mr. Ashton, not to be too forward, but I noticed that MC hadn’t attended any meetings all week. You mentioned that she’d be here today, but she’s not... Is she okay?” Yeah, she most definitely can pick up on it. For a moment, it seemed intriguing to see her investigating skills pick up on minuet things like this. “She’s out for today, she caught a small cold. So, she’s resting. I was going to pick up on her tasks for today.” She seemed to sprout more worry. “Is there anyone there watching her?”

“She’ll be fine. Her roommates checked up on her periodically while I stayed for the past few days. And one’s going to be keeping her company today. I’ll be stopping by to see how she’s doing after we’re all done here.” She nodded, finding enough strength to work up a smile. I wanted to diminish any worry Reyna had. She had taken a liking to becoming friends with MC, and it was clear to see she was weary of her health as well.

I lean forward and hand her some papers. “These are some templates. All I’ll need you to do today is interview a sample of students & teachers; get some comments of their experience with midterm finals. If you can get it to me by the end of the weekend, that would be great!” Nodding, she grabbed her laptop from the table, and looked back at me. “Just, if you don’t mind, giving me an update on her? From, a concerned friend?”

“Will do.”

Smiling genuinely towards her, I waved goodbye, grabbing the rest of my papers. The unoccupied table I was originally going to was still empty. Some of the students cluttered together at different tables; some discussing & showing off information they found from credible articles, and others looking up articles to gain a collective opinion. I made my rounds toward each table, giving constructive criticism, and approving work. By the time I reached the table I wanted, I had already felt semi-drained.

It wasn’t a simple task; to tuck away my anxiety. Every minute that past, calling MC raced my thoughts, even walking out to go to her aid grew more and more into an option. But, once you show worry, it travels to the majority your staff. I realized how frequently I had been checking my phone.

11:50am

This would be the best time to bury myself into my work; that’s all I need; a good distraction. I reached for my phone, and held on to the side for a few seconds.

-Slide to power off-

I slide on the screen with my thumb subconsciously, and put my phone at the side of the table. Instead of working up more worry in myself, checking the time every second, I’m going to lose myself in my work. By the time I check, it’ll feel like the time flew by. I just need to keep working, and look forward to getting lost in her voice again.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I’ll be okay James, I promise.”

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

My head flew up from its steady surface.

A few blinks later, and my vision cleared into light. I had been still seated at the library table I was at this morning. I looked around an empty room, Then down to my laptop. It had taken the same notion as me; the screen was black. After taping on one of the keys, I typed in my password. I must’ve been more exhausted than I anticipated. Maybe I should take it easy... but the newspaper club depends on me, they’re Head to run everything smoothly.

Sighing, I ran my hands down my face, trying to reawaken myself from my drowsy position. I couldn’t have been asleep for that long. The sudden brightness caught my attention, as the screen came to life, pulling up my novel I’d been working on. My eyes glided to the corner.

6:38pm

No…

My eyes darted up, scanning for any window for reassurance. Confirming my accusation, the sun had been setting outside. I could tell just by seeing the libraries reflection on the glass.

I moved my books to the corner, pulling my phone from underneath a stack of papers. After several attempts to turn it on, I came to the obvious realization & lapse of judgement:

I turned it off earlier

As I muttered swears and insults to myself, I began hoping & praying that she’d been okay.

She was okay.

She has to be okay.

She is okay.

The phone breathed on, and I froze. All I could do was stare, stare at my screen; and for what felt like forever, nothing was there. Nothing had popped up. As my phone screen went black, it suddenly began vibrating repeatedly, notification light flashing like a strobe light as the screen cut on and a multitude of notifications flew down it.

The feeling of repulsive guilt and anguish engulfed me as my phone continued vibrating.

MC 👑😂☺️👫💕 Missed Call (10) & Voicemail

MC 👑😂☺️👫💕: Text Message

MC 👑😂☺️👫💕: Text Message

MC 👑😂☺️👫💕: Text Message

MC 👑😂☺️👫💕: Text Message

Building the courage to scroll down, I noticed phone calls & texts from Kaitlyn. Guilt plaguing me enough to avoid reading & listening to MC’s first, I opened hers, anxiety clearly working to my disadvantage.

“Uh, James? I’ve been calling you from MC’s phone. She’s not okay…”

I dropped my phone on the table as I stuffed my books into my messenger bag.

“…um, were at the hospital right now, we had to leave a little after 2:15,”

I pulled my lanyard from around my neck and grabbed the keys from them, shutting my laptop closed.

“I don’t think it’s just some cold, she hasn’t woken up since talking about you earlier. That was around 11:30 this morning, when you get this, come asa-“

Her voice began to muffle as I stuffed my phone straight into my pocket, running through the library doors towards my car.

My mind fell blank, with only one thought racing:

Please, let her be okay.

6:45pm

•NEXT

[geekmama]

This New Day

 The next bit of the Aftermath series...

When Molly woke again, several hours later, Sherlock was sound asleep, his embrace now slack, his curls mussed, his face peaceful and far younger, save for the scant, scruffy reddish-brown shadow of his beard. The urge to kiss him was strong, it seemed that every feature of that beloved countenance called to her: cheek, nose, brow; the prickly jawline; his lips, slightly parted as he breathed, deep and even. But she resisted. He needed to rest as long as possible. The previous day had been full of trauma, and she feared those coming would not be easy for him either, in spite of the hope of happiness he had once again awakened in her.

Cautiously, she slid from his arms, and then with silent stealth began to slip away. But true to form, he woke. “Molly?” he mumbled, his brows twitching together.

She darted in as he began to rouse himself and kissed him, gently, on his lips, a blush rising at her daring. She said softly, “Have to use the loo.”  

And his brow smoothed. He gave a sleepy smile and his eyes closed again.

Excellent! she thought, and went to use the en suite, taking the time to wash her face and run a brush through her hair. She was even more pleased with herself when she reentered the bedroom and saw that once again he was deep in slumber.

Sleep was a great healer, and it was sometimes most elusive for the great Sherlock Holmes, a fact of which she’d recently been forcibly reminded. After Culverton Smith’s arrest, Sherlock’s friends had taken it in turns to watch over him, since he’d abandoned the hospital as soon as he could stand unaided, and flatly refused to go to a rehabilitation facility. The subsequent weeks had been quite challenging for everyone involved, and particularly for Molly who had taken the night watch, often Sherlock’s most difficult hours. She had endured much, particularly at first. Ill temper, whining, miles and miles of traipsing the dark streets of London; badgering or coaxing (whatever worked) to get him to eat decently. She had patiently wiped the sweat from his brow, held him shaking in her arms more than once, dried his tears of remorse or self-pity, and distracted him as best she could at all points. It had become easier after the first couple of weeks, but even now she felt that she was still recovering from those often very long nights. And though Sherlock had, for some weeks now, been taking great care to show them all that he was now back on an even keel, she was fairly certain it was only his strength of will that enabled him to do so consistently.

And now this. A mad, murderous sister? That he hadn’t known about? And she still had little idea of what had actually occurred in their encounter with the woman.

Molly was capable of great patience, particularly where Sherlock was concerned, but she very much hoped he would be willing to explain things to her in the cool light of this new day.   

She went downstairs to the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil, then stared into her refrigerator, trying to decide what to offer him for breakfast when he should wake. An omelet, she thought. He liked her omelets. Perhaps with cheddar cheese and a few slices of glazed apple, and some bacon, and toast with marmalade --  she had some good brioche left from the previous weekend, when she’d purchased it to make eggy bread for John and little Rosie.

Dear Rosie! And John -- she was suddenly seized with a need to know how he was faring -- Sherlock had said John had been trapped in an old well for several hours on the old, abandoned Holmes family estate.

A family estate. Heavens. She’d known Sherlock sprang from a posh background, but that seemed a bit much, compared to her own modest, very middle class upbringing. Success had come to her through dogged perseverance and the good fortune to qualify for scholarships, but it seemed as though it was Sherlock’s birthright -- which, admittedly, she had always realized, in a vague fashion. The imminent reality of it might soon affect her in a number of ways, however, and that worried her a bit -- though, of course, his parents had seemed very kind, not at all standoffish, when she had met them after his “fall”. They had wanted to meet her, since she had had so much to do with the success of “Lazarus”, and Mycroft had driven her up to their home outside Cambridge to do so. The visit had gone some way toward easing her grief at his departure, and the circumstances surrounding it.

Her mobile was still on the coffee table, where she had left it the previous evening. But Sherlock’s Belstaff was draped over the sofa nearby, and as she walked in she noticed that his own mobile was buzzing away in the coat’s pocket. She hesitated for only a half second before retrieving it. It had stopped buzzing by the time she had it in her hand, and was locked besides, but he’d given her the code early on in his latest recovery, since most of the time he’d been disinclined to answer it himself. His Girl Friday, she thought with a grim smile.

She quickly entered the code and saw that there were two missed calls, both from Mycroft. She frowned, wondering if Sherlock would be willing to call his brother back. He usually resisted doing so, but with everything that had happened…

But she would not wake him. She put his mobile in one pocket of her dressing gown, and carried her own back to the kitchen to call John, putting it on speaker so she could put tea together at the same time.

John answered quickly. “Hello? Molly?”

“John, how are you? Are you alright?”

“Better than a few hours ago by a long way. Did Sherlock tell you any of it? How is he?”

“He’s still sleeping. He hasn’t told me much, yet, though he did tell me you were stuck in a well, and by a sister he didn’t know he had?”

“Yeah,” John said, slowly. “She… uh… she put him through these tests she’d devised. Pretty horrible, most of it. Five people killed before… well… before he made that call to you.”

She stood there frozen for a moment. Then managed to ask, “Was… was that call one of the tests? Were you there? ”

There was a pause. Then, “Molly, I think I’d better let him explain what was going on.”

“John,” she said, firmly, “there were four cameras found in my house. Were you there when he made that call? And...  and did you...“

He sighed. “We were both there, Molly. Me and… Mycroft. Saw the whole bloody thing. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered, replaying the scene in light of this new information. She wanted to crawl in a hole and die.

“Molly, you have to hold it together,” John said, very worried. “For Sherlock’s sake -- and your own. I swear… if you could have seen what it did to him...”

She gave a rather hysterical laugh. What it had done to him ?

But John went on. “Molly, ask him about the coffin. I mean… God, if this doesn’t put him back on the drugs, nothing will. Look, he was telling you the truth. I would swear to it, on anything you can name--”

And then the phone was snatched off the counter and Sherlock was saying in a steely voice, “Yes, John, that will be all for now.”

Molly, had yelped in surprise and backed away a couple of steps, and now heard John’s tinny, “ Sherlock?! ” just before the man himself disconnected the call with the jab of a long finger and a look that would have felled the doctor, had he actually been present. Then he turned to her, his eyes full of renewed pain.

“Oh, God,” she said, her voice breaking. “Sherlock… I’m so sorry! ”

The pain turned to shock. “ You’re sorry? What do you have to be sorry about? It was me , just as it always is!”

“No! No!” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t have made you say it! I should have known … known something was wrong! ” And she gave a hitching sob and tried to turn away.

But he wouldn’t let her.

She found herself pulled into his embrace and held tight against him, and she couldn’t help it, she fisted the soft material of his t-shirt and pressed her face against his chest, and wept. But his hand was in her hair again, and he was kissing her forehead and saying in between, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. But I meant it, Molly, I swear I did, not the first time, perhaps, but the second, God, it was like a bloody bolt of lightning, shattering my stupid… I swear to you! And I was so afraid… so afraid you would hate me…”

“Hate you?!” she cried, pushing away from him and looking up at him, outraged, as well as hideously tear-ravaged again, she knew it even without a mirror to hand, and she didn’t care. She grabbed at him, at his neck, pulled him down, and kissed him.

He gave a shocked chuff of laughter, but responded with alacrity, then finding the position a strain he grabbed her up and carried her into the living room, to the sofa, laid her down and half fell upon her. It was awkward, and messy, and fierce, and the feel of his arms and shoulders under her hands, the muscles of his back, the taste of him, the delicious weight of him as he bore her down into the cushions was everything her heart had ever desired.

After a while, he moved a bit and took her wrists in his hands and pressed them into the cushion, one on either side of her head, and looked down at her, panting. “This was… not… how I envisioned doing this. So you don’t hate me?”

She snarled, “You, Sherlock Holmes, are an idiot! ”

And he laughed. “I know.” He settled down over her, loosening his grip on her wrists. “But you love me anyway?”

“Oh my God!” she said, with an epic roll of her eyes. “Of course I do! Stupid! ”

He kissed her again, to her immense satisfaction, smiling at the same time, and she really could not help returning the smile. It was pretty much the best kiss in the history of kisses.

It was difficult to say where it might have ended (well, not that difficult) but after a bit the left pocket of her crushed dressing gown began to buzz and vibrate.

“What’s that?” he demanded, offended at the interruption.

“Probably Mycroft, again. He called twice before.”

It was Sherlock’s turn for an eyeroll. “Of course he did. Bloody hell. I suppose I should see how he’s doing. He was a bit traumatized by the whole debacle yesterday.”

“I expect he was,” Molly said. Her joy faded somewhat, remembering. “John said there were five people killed. Is that true?”

“Yes.” He frowned, and then kissed her forehead lightly.

“And… he said something about a coffin?”

And at that, he scowled. “Bloody John.”

“I don’t think he meant to tell me that much. It just sort of… came out.”

“Hmm. I daresay. It always does, doesn’t it? I mean, look at his bloody blog!”

She started to chuckle, then stifled it. “Not really funny, this,” she said apologetically.

“It is a natural human reaction in times of stress, however, no matter how serious.” He kissed her lips, gently, lingeringly.

When he was finished ( Too soon! Too soon! ) she said, “I love you, you know.”

“Yes. And I love you, too. Just as I said.”

She said in wonder, “And… that’s when you realized it?”

He sighed. “No. I’ve known it for a long time, I believe. But I thought -- idiot that I am -- that by not telling you, or acting upon it in any way -- well, almost any way -- that I was keeping you safe.” He frowned and added, thoughtfully, “Actually, I think it did work for a while. I don’t think Eurus knew about you until that day you brought the ambulance for me. To John’s therapist’s. That was Eurus.”

She stared. “Eurus… is that your sister’s name? And she was John’s therapist?”

He opened his mouth, then shut it again, then said, “There’s a lot to tell you.”

“Yes!” she agreed.

“Can we.. go back to bed? It’s easier to talk there. And… maybe we could reopen the discussion about getting a dog. Afterwards. Something to look forward to?”

She really could not help chuckling at that, but she also said, “No. I’m going to fix you breakfast first. When did you last eat anything?”

He looked first aggrieved, and then puzzled as he thought back. “I had some tea and a couple of biscuits yesterday. Before Mycroft came, and my flat got blown up. That was Eurus, too, by the way.”

Molly shook her head. “If I didn’t love you so much I would be having second thoughts about getting involved with you.”

Sherlock nodded with a grimace. “She’s a genius. An evil genius.”

“I suppose that’s why she and Jim got on so well?”

“I’m afraid so. For all of five minutes, from what Mycroft said. That’s all it took.”

He looked so sad that Molly kissed him again, and then said, against his lips, “Never mind, for now. We’ll be alright. Don’t you think so?”

And he began to smile again, a crooked smile, but genuine, lighting his eyes. “I do. I really do,” he said with conviction, and rubbed his nose against hers.

 ~.~

[vin-taege]

Zodiac

Summary: Despite Yoongi’s protests, you still buy the small mirror in the antique shop rumored to bring good luck. Soon enough, a series of fortunate events happen, and so does a chain of deaths. The mirror may bring good luck, but at what cost? 

Genre: Horror, Angst, FengShui!au

Pairing: Yoongi x reader, ft. members

Disclaimer: major character death, mild depictions of gore

Legend: >> a few minutes forward 

Yoongi doesn’t believe in superstitions, much less luck. Everything you got in life was because of your own will and perseverance, not because some higher entity thought you could have it. You, on the other hand, couldn’t agree less. There wasn’t any harm in trying out so-called luck-bringing rituals. If it didn’t work, nothing bad would actually happen, right?

The first part of your relationship was a bit rocky. His hectic schedule provided you barely enough time to see each other, and when you did, he needed to rest. He left before you woke up, and arrived just after you fell asleep. Composing for artists was a difficult and stressing thing, a fact you understood. That’s why when you moved to a new house, you wanted to start anew.

You were currently shopping for furniture in an antique shop. Taking Taehyung’s advice, you wanted to go for a classy look. Plus, the prices were way cheaper than those in department stores. Yoongi had already picked a dining table and its chairs, and you just finished checking out a dresser, when you saw it. 

It was a fairly simple mirror, small enough to fit on top of your front door. It was a circular mirror, a thick octagonal border around it.. You went towards it and picked it up, its black, gold, and red colors vibrant. However, you noticed that there was a piece of cloth taped around the edges of the glass.

“May I help you?”, a voice said behind you, almost making you drop the mirror in surprise. You turned around to find one of the employees, a bored-looking teenager- who was probably annoyed at you touching their stuff.

“Oh, I was just looking. Um, do you know how much this thing costs?”, you showed him the mirror. He took it, checking the back and sides, before returning it to you. “Well, there isn’t a price tag, but I’ll ask Ms. Mei. That bagua’s pretty old, so it might cost a lot”, he said, leading you to the counter, where Yoongi was waiting for you.

Bagua.

You remembered reading about it once. In Chinese belief, it supposedly brought in good luck if you placed it at your front door. Perfect for your new home. 

You placed the bagua on the counter, earning a questioning look from Yoongi. “Another ritual, cult girl?”, he teased you. You gave him a playful slap. “There’s no harm in trying.”

The employee went through a curtain behind the counter, and came back together with an old woman. She was shorter than you, her grey hair tied into a neat bun. She was wearing a shawl over her loose, red dress. Greeting you with a smile, she took the form you filled out earlier.

“The shop can help you transport your furniture. We have a truck, and I can get one of my employees to drive them to your house”, she offered. 

“Yes, we would like that very much”, Yoongi smiled back, appreciating her thoughtfulness. She then looked at you, smile suddenly disappearing as she saw the mirror on the counter. Her expression darkened, and she even took a step back, wrinkled hands moving to pull the shawl around her tighter.

Even Yoongi noticed, and he flashed you a look of confusion. You nibbled on your lip awkwardly, the change of atmosphere evident. “Is there something wrong?” you asked her. “I wanted to ask how much this bagua costs. I saw it on one of the displays, so I thought it was on sale.”

“No!” she snapped. “No. Keep it. Y-you can have it for free. Just... be careful with it”, she said, her tone much softer this time. She hurriedly went back through the curtain, leaving behind the employee from earlier, who looked equally confused.

“I can drive the furniture. Just point out your car so I can follow you guys”, he trailed off, getting the truck keys. “Sehun, I’ll be out for a while. Man the counter”, he called out to the back of the store. You heard a faint ‘okay’, before exiting the store, with Yoongi holding your hand, the bagua clutched tightly in the other.

Fortunately, Jin and Jimin came to help move your things. It would’ve taken you two days to move just a cabinet, and a table set, and that’s even with Yoongi’s help. The table wouldn’t have been off the ground by an inch, and you’d already drop it.

“Wow, you guys got more than what you bargained for”, Jin said over a mouthful of cookies. Indeed, you did. For a cheap price, you got a small, but cozy bungalow. The inside was a plain white, which Yoongi liked since he thought it was simple.

“She even got into a fight with one agent”, Yoongi elbowed you teasingly. You rolled your eyes, taking a sip of your coffee. “He was charging us way too much. The house wasn’t even that nice”, you argued, making the boys laugh.

The house you chose was near a forest, and was more on the rural side, but not too far away from the city. Most of your neighbors ran farms, so there were times a chicken or a dog would run down the streets, something you’d get used to. Taehyung was delighted to hear that, coming from a family of farmers himself, though he hasn’t visited the house yet, due to his busy school schedule.

To your luck, you didn’t have to change jobs since the shop you were working in was just a ten minute walk away. Definitely closer than your old house. 

“Noona, what’s that?” Jimin nodded towards the octagonal mirror, the reflective surface itself still covered up. You took it from its spot on the table and brought it close to your face, holding it away as you took the cover off. 

“It’s a bagua. It brings good luck apparently”, you told them as you tried to scratch the tape off. Yoongi snorted beside you. “It’s another one of those Chinese things she tried out. I gotta admit though, the incense she sprayed around in Chinese New Year did smell pretty great.”

Ignoring his comment,you finally got the cover off, and you peered into the mirror. It kind of looked like the eye-holes in hotels, where everything was slightly more rounded than normal. Weirdly, it gave off an odd feeling. Worry was tugging at your subconscious, but like Yoongi’s comment, you payed no attention to it. Maybe you were going to get a fever. It was just a mirror after all.

“Woah, that looks cool”, Jin remarked, reaching for it. Yoongi sat back as you handed him the mirror, choosing to look at you questioningly. You shrugged at him. “Hey, it’s not doing harm.” He gave you a half-smile. “I suppose not.”

“Hyung, let me see”, Jimin shifted next to Jin, seeing his own warped reflection beside the older boy’s. “Woah, it’s like those fish-eye things. Yoongi-hyung, wanna look too?”

Yoongi gave him a gentle smile. “No, I believe I’m good.” He leaned onto you, using you as a cushion. You whined, trying to push him off. He rolled his eyes, only squishing you further into the side of the couch. Jin looked at you and fake gagged, before handing back the mirror. Suddenly, a honk from outside caught your attention. 

“Ah that’s Hobi. We should get going. We don’t really trust Jungkook alone at the house”, Jimin chuckled. “I suppose so. Thanks for coming over.” you said, laughing with them. The pair got up, only to be greeted by Hoseok opening the front door. “Hobi!” you waved at him,urging him to come in. ���Hello! Sorry I wasn’t able to help in the moving.” he rubbed his nape. 

He nodded at the mirror. “What’s that?” he said, moving closer to get a better look. “Oh, just a little lucky charm I got.” you replied, ignoring Yoongi’s scoffs.

“Y/n good news!” Your boss walked in as you were arranging a bouquet. The business at the flower shop has been slow, resulting in low paychecks. The salary wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t the best either. The only things keeping you from resigning were your overly-nice manager and the need to help Yoongi with the expenses. 

“Yes, sir?” you placed the final rose in the center, stopping to turn to him. “Fortunately, a sudden pop-up of orders came; at least a hundred different companies and people are asking for orders.” he beamed at you.

Your jaw dropped. The shop you were in was a small one, having only a number of chains nationwide. It was highly unusual, and almost miraculous, to have a hundred orders pop out of nowhere. “W-what? Really?” a smile slowly crept, heart beating at the news. “Yes! I’m equally surprised. So, let’s work hard! About a fourth of them are due next week, so we better get going.” he patted you on the shoulder, a ringing phone drawing him out the room.

You stared at the pink cloth wrapped around the flowers. Twenty five orders were needed by next week, and God knows how much the amount was. Coincidentally, your boss came back with a long slip of paper. “Here’s a portion of the list.” he said, placing it on the counter. “I’ve already talked to Jiwoo and Hansung. They’re going to help you.” he finished, rushing out to manage another phone call.

The list was a jumble of rushed writing. Big companies were even there, and so were weddings. Determined to finish the orders by today, you looked at the first name. 

Song’s Wedding

Your heart rate sped up. Could it possibly be Song-Song couple? No way. “Y/n!” your manager’s voice brought you back to reality. “On it!” A ton of peonies and roses mixed together, making about twenty for the aisle, and another special bouquet for the bride. It was going to be a long day, but it was so worth it.

*

Yoongs <3

Yoongs <3: Really? You aren’t just joking right?

You: Yes! I’m shocked too, I mean 100 orders in one day?? wtf

You: but in a good way

Yoongs <3:  I’m so happy for you, babe :)

You: … omg screenshotted

Yoongs <3:Fuck off before I take it back

You smiled, sending a quick ‘I love you’, before putting your phone in your bag and zipping it up. Your boss was a bit too delighted and decided to send you home early. It was perfect for walking around the village and getting to memorize the way home.

Lately, the weather has been unpredictable. One moment, it rained, the next, it was incredibly hot. Thankfully, it was just right today, although it was a bit windy. A strong breeze pushed your hair back, making you hold it down with one hand. You could feel your phone vibrating in your bag. With a huff, you tried your best to get it using your free hand.

‘Goddamn,’ you muttered ‘How convenient.’ You continued grumbling, then you felt something hit your chest. A shriek left your lips, and you furiously wiped whatever landed on you off your body. You calmed down enough, seeing a small, thin, brown envelope in the ground.

It got blown away a few inches more, before you caught it by stepping on it. You reached down, and opened it. ‘Holy shit’ you thought. The thing had 50 000 won in it. 

You looked around, seeing no one looking for it. In fact, you were strangely the only person in the empty road. 

“Min Yoongi!” you screamed at him as soon as you got your phone out. “Y/n, I love you and all, but I actually need my ears to compose-”

“Yeah, whatever. Shut up and listen. Ok, so I was walking down the road, and it was windy, and there was a thing-”

“Y/n, take a deep breath, and please talk slowly.”

“Yoongi,” you squealed. “50 000 won literally got blown to me.” 

Silence followed, and at one point you thought he hung up. Then, you heard a loud thud, followed by what sounded like someone hitting a table multiple times. “You- what- how?” he managed to choke out, though you could hear extreme happiness in his tone.

“I don’t know! I was just walking, and no one seemed to look for it. I mean, we really kinda need it, babe.” you said in an uneasy way, guilt starting to follow. Maybe taking it wasn’t the most moral option, but you didn’t want to skip meals like last time. “I understand. But really, wow. I- I don’t even know what to say.”

More silence. Yoongi normally would’ve had something to say, never being a man lost for words. You didn’t notice how long you were talking until you began to see your house. “Hey, I’m home early by the way. I’m making a celebratory dinner.” you grinned. Yoongi let out a cute victory yell. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. My girlfriend’s calling for me, and there’s no way I’m passing this up.”

The news of your promotion spread fast among the boys. Despite Yoongi’s whines of having alone time, you invited the boys to your mini feast. They gladly accepted, with Taehyung excitedly coming over (and dragging Namjoon with him) within the first thirty minutes.Hoseok showed up next, fresh from his dance tournament. Jungkook texted that they’d be a bit late since they decided to make you a little present. 

“Where’s the lucky mirror?” Namjoon grinned at you. Yoongi sent you a smirk. “It’s outside. She’d gladly show you the way.”

“You sure you don’t want to look at it, babe? Might give you a small work boost.” you winked at him. He laughed and shook his head. “I’d rather stay inside and not let the food burn.” You looked at Hoseok. “I’m staying to help this guy. Plus, I’ve already seen it anyway.” he politely declined.

Shrugging, you stepped out the door, the other boys following you. Namjoon giddily came next to you, glancing up at what you were pointing to. “Oh, a bagua?” you glanced at him, surprised that he knew the term. He gave you a sheepish smile. “I’ve been reading in my spare time.”

“A what, hyung?” Taehyung said, moving next to Namjoon as he looked at the mirror. “A bagua. Something from Chinese belief.” Taehyung hummed in response, staring as the reds and golds of the mirror captivated him.

Back at the dorm, the three boys were busy preparing a meal of their own. They planned to give you a bulgogi, knowing that you’d share it and they’d get some themselves. Jin has been leading the process, telling them to wrap it up as it was getting late. 

“Jimin, just put the materials back. Look at that knife holder, it’s almost falling off. Plus, there’s tons of bowls scattered around. Move it, men!” he clapped. Jimin squinted at him. “Aish, so bossy.” he muttered. Jin ignored the comment, grabbing a glass of water. “I’m gonna change clothes. You guys look decent already, so we’re going straight out after I finish.” he rushed off, leaving the younger boys to tend to the mess.

He softly sang to himself as he entered the room, setting the glass down a bit too close to the edge of the table. His stufftoys and figurines lay messily on the floor, the older boy not finding the time to recently clean his room. Marios, Princess Peach, and a huge Donkey Kong plushie was left untouched near the table. 

He dug through his closet, carelessly throwing out shirts. He’d clean it up once he gets home. ‘Aha!’ his eyes glanced upon a simple button-down, perfect. He took his shirt off, tossing it behind him. As he was about to button the shirt, he heard something fall and looked behind him. 

The glass fell, water soaking through his shirt. He grumbled, turning his head to the door. “Kook, can you hand me the mop?” he hollered. No reply. “Kook?” he waited a few more seconds, still met by silence. He sighed, walking around the spill to a small cabinet where they kept the brooms. 

He got a mop, dragging it behind him. He trudged around the junk sprawled around his room, dodging things he could step on. However, he mis-stepped, tripping over a backpack. 

The older boy yelped, arms not fast enough from catching his fall, head hitting the edge of the table with a loud bang. His body landed on the Donkey Kong plushie, limp. 

“Jin hyung?” Jungkook called from downstairs. “Are you okay?” No reply.

“He totally left us with all the cleaning.” Jimin chuckled. Jungkook shook his head with a smile. “I mean, I’m not even surprised.” He picked up the plates and bowls they used, stacking them on top of each other. He placed them in the sink, then turned back to Jimin.

“Hyung, can you handle the others? I really don’t want to touch raw pork, especially after I just showered” Jimin nodded at him, gathering the whisks and teaspoons. “Hey, isn’t it weird how we have at least three different butcher knives, but can’t get a knife holder that actually holds the knives?” Jimin gestured to the knife holder. Jungkook shrugged. “Then again, it’s Jin hyung, ‘master of culinary arts’“ he said, adding finger quotes. 

Jimin’s phone beeped from his pocket. “It’s probably noona. You should answer her.” Jungkook told him. Obliging, he took his phone out, blindly leaning on the counter. “Hyung!”

He reluctantly drew his arm back. The chopping board was halfway off the edge, the knife holder placed on top of it. “You should look at what you’re doing.” Jungkook tsked at him. Jimin rolled his eyes. Suddenly, they heard a loud bang from upstairs, causing Jimin to drop his phone. 

They looked at each other. “Jin hyung? Jungkook called out. Knowing Jin, he probably just fell down amidst the mess of his room. However, he didn’t reply. “Are you okay?” Jungkook yelled after him again. Or maybe Jin was just playing prank. The two boys felt an unsettling feeling neither of them could explain. “I’m gonna check on him”, Jungkook muttered, leaving the kitchen.

Jimin blinked, soon crouching down to reach for it. He mindlessly scrolled through his phone, trying to get his nerves eased up. His other hand reached for the counter as he tried to pull himself up, accidentally whacking the chopping board, sending the knives and bits of pork flying.

A loosely placed butcher knife fell, blade down, landing on his neck. Jimin gasped, blood rapidly dripping down and pooling in his throat. He couldn’t find the strength to stand up, crawling on the floor instead. Pork and knives lay around him, making it difficult to maneuver.

“J-Jungkook!” his voice came out hoarse, much of a silent yell. He clutched his throat, trying to stop the bleeding. “Hyung!” he heard the younger one call from upstairs. “We need to call the ambulance! Jin, he-” But Jimin didn’t even make it to the end of the sentence.

“Someone’s late”, Namjoon impatiently muttered. It’s been an hour since they texted, and even though Jin took his time while cooking, it was never this long. Finally, Taehyung’s phone rung, and he quickly answered.

“Jungkook, where the hell- What?!” he stood up, worry etched in his face. The room fell silent, except for Jungkook’s unclear voice on the phone. “Okay. Okay, we’re going there right now. Kookie wait, we’re going there right now.” he said, getting the backpack and dragging Namjoon up.

“What? What’s happening? Why aren’t they here?” Hoseok looked at the younger boy worriedly. You walked closer to him, Yoongi following you. Taehyung pulled the phone away. “Jungkook’s in the hospital. Something bad happened. Really bad. We need to get there now.” 

You didn’t need another word from him before scrambling outside and craming into Hoseok’s car. “The one near our dorm, Daegu Hospital, something like that. Please hurry.” Taehyung told Hoseok. The older boy got the car running, and sped out. 

Taehyung directed his attention back to Jungkook’s call. “We’re on the road. Just keep talking. We’ll get there, don’t worry. Jesus- why?” he choked, tears starting to spill out.

>>>

Jungkook had his head in his hands, fingers clawing out at his hair. He hasn’t stopped crying, and he was scared. Scared and traumatized. Nurses and doctors passed by him, giving him sympathetic looks. He didn’t need their sympathy. He needed a doctor to come out and tell him that his friends were fine. That the hit Jin took to his head only resulted in a minor concussion. That the knife sticking out of Jimin’s head somehow got removed and he’s in recovery now. 

He heard footsteps shuffling down the hall, immediately hearing Namjoon’s worried voice. 

You spotted him crouched against the wall. “Kookie!” you ran to him, kneeling to his level. “What happened? Are they okay now?” you held his wrists, moving your hands to wipe his tears. Yoongi kneeled next to him. “Jungkook, what happened?”

The youngest looked up, eyes skimming over your worried faces, before stopping at Taehyung. His face was ashen, and they knew they shared the same pain. The same thing you’d experience in a few seconds.

Yoongi rubbed his back, making him calm down before he spoke. He coughed, leaning over to you as you welcomed him in your arms. Jungkook shut his eyes, taking in a few deep breaths. 

“It was a freak accident. Fuck, I shouldn’t have left Jimin. I- I should’ve asked Jin to stay. I could’ve helped them”, he said, tears streaming down his face again. Hoseok joined you and Yoongi on the floor, him also starting to cry. “Jungkook. Tell us what happened.”

“Jin hyung, he bumped his head on the corner of a table. It was a sharp edge. I told him to tape it or something since it was so sharp. I should’ve taped it myself, then maybe he wouldn’t-”

“Jungkook.” Namjoon said, voice cold.

“Jimin, he-” Jungkook choked on his own words. He couldn’t forget the gruesome image, Jimin laying on the floor, a huge pool of blood coming from his neck. “I don’t know how. He- there was a kn-knife in his neck. H-he was on the floor with a knife in his neck, I think he toppled the board, I don’t know anymore..” Jungkook sobbed, burying his head further in your shoulder. 

Shock settled in everyone. It was too ridiculous to believe. You were just talking to Jin and Jimin yesterday. Jimin even texted you. They were supposed to bring bulgogi. You were supposed to have fun. The night was supposed to end anywhere else, except in a hospital, hoping that your friends were still alive. 

“For patients Kim Seokjin and Park Jimin?” A doctor approached you. You helped Jungkook shakily stand up, crowding around the doctor. “We’re his friends”, Namjoon informed him. 

The doctor stared at each of you, a sad expression plastered on his face. “Well?” Namjoon pushed, his tone alarmingly increasing. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to inform you that both patients didn’t make it. Mr. Park has lost too much blood, and Mr. Kim suffered heavy trauma to the brain, resulting in a blood clot.”

“And you can’t do anything about that?” Namjoon snapped at him. He glared in response. “The knife that fell on your friend’s neck hit two nerves, something impossible to treat with the time it took to get there. He was dead on arrival. The blow Seokjin suffered was forceful enough to form a small dent in his skull, and cause a blood clot. I’m sorry, but we couldn’t do anything.”

“That’s just bullshit! You could’ve at least tried harder with Jin. You guys are doctors- you’re supposed to save people”, Namjoon took a step forward, inly to be held back by Hoseok. The doctor, now alarmed, signaled to one of the nurses. “If you think of causing a scene here, I won’t think twice of calling security”, he warned, turning his heel to attend to other patients.

“You shouldn’t have said that, Joon” Hobi whispered. Namjoon shrugged his arm off, walking towards the exit. Hoseok gave you a teary-eyed look, before going after his friend. 

You looked at Yoongi, who now had his eyes shut. “This is not happening. They’re joking right?” he scoffed. “They have got to be joking. I was talking to Jin this morning, there’s no way he’s...” No one wanted to say the word. It hung in the sullen atmosphere, where the chatter in the background turned to static and the hospital’s white walls seemed too bright.

Jungkook didn’t want to go home. Especially since all the blood and spills where still there. In fact, he never wanted to go back. It would hurt too much seeing Jin’s room, or passing by the kitchen. The thought of an empty bed across his room, where Jimin should’ve been, was unbearable. 

“Hyung, can I stay over at your house?” he was looking out the window when he said that. All four boys looked at him ready to let out a ‘yes’. “Yoongi hyung, can I?” he looked towards the older man. 

Yoongi didn’t reply. He was too busy staring at the road, thinking of how things escalated so badly. His hand held yours, and although he felt warm, it looked like he was a thousand miles away. You squeezed his hand, getting his attention. “Jungkook asked if he can stay over tonight.” you repeated. He nodded, sinking farther in his seat. 

“We need to get spare clothes though.” Taehyung slowly said, knowing it’d imply something bad. Jungkook’s faced scrunched in a mix of annoyance and anger. “I’m not going back there. Not now, not ever.” he hissed. 

“You don’t have to. You can wait in the car.” Hoseok said, already taking a left to their dorm. “What the fuck is wrong with you?! You don’t know how fucking hard it is to go back there!” Jungkook sprung up. “Namjoon, you understand, right?”

Namjoon had his earphones in. He didn’t feel like discussing anything with anyone, and he just wanted to ignore the elephant in the room. Aside from Hoseok, he was the one who tried to show his friends the good side of things. However it was difficult to when there is no good side.

When Jungkook was met with stone-cold silence, Hoseok spoke up again. “I know it’s shitty to say, but trying to avoid it won’t help you. I miss them too, we all do. But we can’t bring them back, and we have to accept that.”

He pulled up on their porch, unlocking the doors. “You don’t have to go, Kook.” you said, stepping out the car. Yoongi followed you, slamming the door shut. 

“You know where their rooms are.” Yoongi said, tone flat. “Where are you going?” you asked him. He just shrugged, about to go in the kitchen, then stopping halfway. “Why? Is there something-”

“Don’t go in there, please.” He grabbed your shoulders, spinning you around. You decided not to question any further, knowing you wouldn’t want to hear the answer. He steered you upstairs, purposefully blocking your view of Jin’s room.

“Grab a few random shirts, then let’s get the hell out of here.” he said,opening Jungkook’s cabinet. You obliged, standing next to him, packing a few jeans and shirts. You included a beanie too, plus a bracelet you’ve seen him always wearing. 

“Finished?” you nodded at Yoongi, showing the bag you filled. He gave you a small smile. “Everything will be okay. I’m so proud of how strong you are right now.” he gently said, giving you a kiss on the forehead. You returned the favor by pecking him on the cheek. “We should go.”

You went out the room last, making sure to properly close the door. Then, you heard something fall from Jin’s room. You looked back, contemplating whether to tell Yoongi or not. 

“Yoongi?” he looked back at you. “Can you wait for a bit?” Although he wanted to protest, he gave in. “Make it quick. I can feel Jungkook losing his shit in the car.”

You couldn’t agree more with what he said. The place was starting to pull off a creepy feeling, but you had to know what made that sound. Slinging the bag over your shoulder, you slowly went to the room.

Your heart was pounding from fear and anxiety. It better be a figment of your imagination. You reached for the knob and swung the door open.

It was as if time stopped. Your heartbeat was the only thing you could hear. The room was cold, too cold. There was a big mess all around, and you saw a small puddle of water drying out next to a coffee table. The corner had a smear of blood on it, reminding you of the previous events. But that wasn’t the thing that caught your attention.  

Jin stood at the center of the room. He was wearing a crumpled button-down, the buttons put in lopsidedly. His hair was sticking out, and a slight dent was on his head. The side of his temple was purplish, blending in with bloodshot eyes. 

“Pay the price” he hissed at you.

You slammed the door shut, running back to Yoongi. “Get out!” you screamed at him. 

He looked up at you in a daze. “What?” 

You continued running, pulling him along with you. You’d explain in the car, or at least when you got home. You didn’t want to talk about the two boys in front of Jungkook, but this was way too messed up. You reached the bottom of the stairs, the front door a few meters away from you.

“Y/n, wait!” Yoongi tugged at you from behind, trying to get you to stop. You halted, turning around to face him. “Yoongi, you don’t understand- holy shit!” you screamed, looking behind him. 

By the kitchen entrance stood Jimin, a large knife sticking out his neck. There was blood all over him, and he had the same bloodshot eyes. He opened his mouth, a pool of blood streaming out. “Pay the price” he repeated.

Yoongi confusedly followed your gaze. “What are you-” You cut him off, bolting out the house with him in tow. You didn’t stop running until you were inside the car. The backpack was clutched tightly in your hand, and Yoongi had to pry it off. “What was that?” The other boys looked over curiously.

You were about to explain, but then you saw Jungkook’s face. His cheeks were a bit puffy. His eyes were a slight tint of red from all the crying he did. You didn’t want to give off a mocking story, so you swallowed the fear. “I just got a bit freaked out. I’m sorry. Let’s get out of here.” Yoongi nodded uneasily, and you could tell he didn’t bite into your lie.

Hoseok started the car again, driving you back home.

“Thank you”, you hugged Hoseok. The two other boys stayed in the car as Yoongi helped Jungkook with his things. “Stay safe please” you whispered. He let out a sigh. “You too. I’ll try my best to calm Namjoon down. Tae’s still...”

“In shock?” you completed, face dropping. You’ve never seen Taehyung so quiet before, and it just made the whole thing worse. The impact of Jin and Jimin’s passing was completely evident, leaving a painful effect on the boys. 

“I hope wherever they are, they’re happy.” Hoseok nodded in agreement. Without another word, he got back in the car and drove away.

You went to go inside, stopping next to Jungkook. He was standing in front of the door, staring at the bagua. “Kookie, what is it?” you gently placed a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t look at you, eyes still glued to the mirror.

“I really hope it brings good luck, noona” he said, voice starting to break. “I really do.”

Jungkook’s been silent for the past few weeks. He didn’t talk unless he was spoken to, and when he did, it was one-worded answers. Sometimes even just simple grunts or nods. He’d usually stare into space, drowning out the whatever noise in the background. 

Things haven’t been the same. The funeral passed by, and none of you uttered anything about it. The boys even considered selling the apartment the three had, mainly because Jungkook knew he couldn’t stand the silence.

“Kookie, Yoongi’s gonna be back in a bit, okay?” you told him as you got your grocery bag. “Can you handle two minutes? I’m just going to buy a few things from the store.”

His eyes stayed on the TV screen, intently playing video games. He gave you a swift nod, looking over you as you passed by. 

Sometimes you forget that you moved. You were used to seeing tall buildings and buzzing cars when you went out. However, now the neighborhood’s so much simpler and nicer. A soft breeze blew gently against you. There were definitely more bushes and flowers, making the walk better. A loud bark came from behind you, making you flinch.

During the first week of your move, a few neighbors have told you about some stray dogs lurking in the forest. These were the wild kind, being a rural area. ‘Stay out of the forest, unless you have a hunter with you’, they’d say.

You walked up the steps to the small village center mall. There were stalls selling various fruit and produce around. Your grocery list was fairly small, so you thought of bringing fruits home to cheer the boys up a bit.

“Good morning, miss. Want to test your luck?” You turned your attention to the man in a suit. He was handing out a flyer advertising a ‘grand raffle’. Seeing there’s no harm in trying, you nodded thanking the paper. He smiled. “Registration is this way.”

You scanned the flyer as you followed him. The raffle showed off practical prizes, the first one being a car. Yoongi always whined about getting a car of his own, so it would’ve been amazing if you won it for him.

The man passed you a form, needing a few details like your name and contact number. “When do you announce the winners?” you asked him, dropping your raffle stub in the drop box. “In a while, actually. We initially planned to close off the entries early, but you made it! You’re the last entry for today.” 

What a coincidence.

“We’ll text you if you win.” he added. You thanked him, then carried on with your errand. You didn’t want to leave Jungkook alone, or Jungkook alone with Yoongi. The younger boy was too sensitive, and you knew your boyfriend might let the wrong words slip.

Fortunately, you easily found what was needed on your list. The line in the cashiers weren’t too long too, making your trip easier. 

As you were taking your wallet out, your phone buzzed. You handed the employee your payment, before checking your phone. There were four texts, one from Yoongi, and the others from an unknown number.

“Ma’am, here’s your change.” She handed you a few coins and your now filled bag. 

4 UNREAD MESSAGES

Yoongs <3: Babe, have you seen Hoseok?

Yoongs <3: Taehyung went home and Namjoon wasn’t there

Yoongs <3: Fuck you need to come to the hospital right now

Unknown: Congratulations! This is Lee Woo Bin from PriSeoul. I’d love to inform you that you one the first place in our raffle. You may claim your prize at the registration booth on or before the end of the month

<<<

Hoseok didn’t handle it easily. The first thing he did after the funeral was lock himself in his room and cry. When there were no more tears to shed, he ate less and danced more. Exhaustion couldn’t stop him from distracting himself. 

Usually, Taehyung or Namjoon would visit him to give him something to eat. It even took them great difficulty to convince him to come back home and rest.

“Namjoon, I’m going out for a jog.” He ran out the door, avoiding any opportunity of protest from the younger boy. He didn’t bring anything else aside from his phone, earphones, and a bottle of water. Normally, he wouldn’t bring the last one, but since he didn’t want to worry Namjoon, he did.

Their dorm wasn’t that far from your house. They lived somewhere in the middle of the city and the country, so it was pretty convenient at times when they needed to buy something. Fruits and vegetables from the countryside, and clothes from the city.

He thought of paying Jungkook a visit. He knew how traumatized he must be, seeing two of their friends dead in one night. 

Holding Onto You played as he put his earbuds in. He started to jog, not stopping even when his legs started to hurt. It was the afternoon, so the sun wasn’t scorching his skin as he ran. 

He finally halted at an intersection, looking left and right before crossing. A second just as he passed the middle, a truck zoomed passed him, nearly hitting him. He stumbled into the sidewalk, looking on as the truck passed. “Hey, I’m suing! I almost died there!” he screamed after it.

His heart beat fast in his chest. He couldn’t stand up, too scared by the encounter. The printed-on design of collars and accessories on the truck’s back stared at him as it sped into the distance. His water bottle rolled away, but he couldn’t care less about it.

When he composed himself again, he got up. He didn’t want to continue taking the same route, considering he almost got run over. Instead, he took a rumored ‘shortcut’ in the forest.

He turned and went through a row of trees, the cement soon fading into leaves and twigs. The twittering of birds surrounded him as he jogged. Relief washed over him, the beauty of it all making him forget everything bad that happened for a moment.

Seamus flowed into his ears. At first, he wasn’t into Pink Floyd much, then Namjoon suggested it to him. The main source of all his new music tastes were either Namjoon or Jungkook, as the two were ‘adventurous’ when it came to songs.

Behind the song, he heard something faint and muffled, kind of like a bark.He ignored it, thinking his earphones were just starting to break. They were old anyway, and he’s been planning on buying new ones. 

He heard it again, this time closer. Slowly, he lowered the volume, but still kept the earbuds on. He jogged faster, breaking into a full run when he heard the barks become louder.

Through shaking hands, he ripped the headset off before getting his phone out. He scrolled past his contacts, tapping Namjoon’s name. ‘Come on, pick up. Please.’ A hundred thoughts raced in his mind as he dodged bushes and trees. 

The barks were accompanied by crunching leaves now, making it apparent that something was chasing him. On instinct, he looked back, seeing a wild dog, fangs jutting out, chasing after him. Its fur was coated in dirt, and saliva dripped from its mouth.

‘Shit.’ This was too surreal. He was a few steps away from death. One wrong move and he’d die or get seriously injured. Unless he can fight the dog off. 

He whipped his head back, only to trip. In front of him was Jimin, hand outstretched to stop him. The younger boy had a blank look on his face as he stared at Hoseok. 

From the ground, Hoseok looked up, locking eyes with him. “Hyung” Jimin whispered, voice gravelly. “Hyung, it’s time.”

Just as he finished, Hoseok felt fangs sinking into his his shoulder. Claws dug into his back while the wild mutt teared at his flesh. His screams ran through the forest, sending a flock of birds flying away.

Screams turned to whimpers, and soon enough, the dog stopped. It got off his body, walking towards the phone he dropped. Namjoon was on the line for a good minute, before the dog pawed it, accidentally ending the call.

It looked around more. Seeing no predators, it scampered off, Hoseok’s blood smeared all over its fur.

Namjoon rushed out of the house. It was a good thing Taehyung wasn’t at home, because he didn’t have enough time to explain to him why. He knew were Hoseok would’ve gone too.

The older boy was someone who always put other people before himself. Who played off his own hurt, and chose to comfort others first. It was obvious he went to visit Jungkook, especially since Yoongi’s been telling them that their youngest wasn’t doing well.

He dodged a few passers-by, shouting Hoseok’s name out in the process. “Hobi! Hobi, where are you?!” he breathlessly reached the intersection. He glanced around, looking for signs of his friend. Then, he spotted something wedged under the bushes.

The familiar water bottle lay under the leaves. He took it, rubbing the dirt off the surface. “Hoseok-” he stopped mid-sentence, bumping into someone.

He looked behind him, spotting an aggravated teenager. The boy was wearing all black, starting from his baseball cap, all the way to his leather jacket. It was so awfully pretentious. His minions stood behind him, the two of them balling their fists threateningly.

“Hey,” the boy narrowed his eyes. He took the toothpick he was chewing out and threw it on the ground. “You should watch where you’re going.” 

Namjoon rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry. It was an accident, but I don’t have time for this.” He tried walking around them, but one boy grabbed him and pushed him back. 

“Okay, I’m sorry. My friend is missing, and I know he’s in danger. So can you just let this one go?” he scoffed at them. 

Their leader stepped forward. “I think the fuck not.” He lunged at Namjoon, delivering a punch to the boy’s stomach. The air got knocked out of him, and he stumbled because of the sudden hit. “F-fuck off. I need to find my friend.” he coughed out.

The group huddled around him, kicking and hitting him. It was three against one, and there was no way he could hurt anyone. The two boys held him in a kneeling position while the other one kept throwing punches at him. When he finally thought it was over, the boy he bumped into clutched his shoulder and forced him to stand. 

“This should teach him.” he sneered to his lackeys, before punching him one last time.

The punch might’ve been a little too hard; or they might’ve been a little too close to a fire hydrant. It wasn’t until after Namjoon fell when someone yelled at them to stop. A middle-aged man chased them off, but by the time he got there, Namjoon’s blood was already spilling on the concrete. 

Next to them was a yellow fire hydrant; a single red splat on the metal.

The road was crowded when you went out. The locals were drawn to the forest shortcut, forming a circle around a clearing. An ambulance and police cars lined the streets. Policemen were preventing the people from going in further. Inside, a few more police were investigating the scene. 

“I pity the poor boy.” you heard an old woman whisper. “I do too. He mustn't have been from here. If he was, he wouldn’t even think of going in the forest.” her friend replied.

“The authorities really should start on putting up those anger signs.” she continued.

“Mama,” a little girl tugged on the hem of her mother’s dress. “What happened to the man in the forest?” 

Her mom looked down on her, her face etched with worry. “Nothing, honey. Let’s go before daddy gets worried.” She picked her daughter up, walking away from the scene. You caught up to her, curious about the news.

“Excuse me, miss. What happened here?” you asked her. She contemplated whether to tell you in front of her daughter or not, but in the end, she set her child back down. She leaned closer to whisper to you.

“There was an accident involving the wild dogs. A man was chased down and mauled to death. I overheard the police talking, and they said he didn’t make it.”

Dread stated to fill you. Your phone buzzed again, reminding you of Yoongi. “T-thanks.” you bid her goodbye.

Yoongi <3: Y/n where are you?? We found Namjoon... his body at least

You: Babe, wasn’t Hoseok born on the year of the dog?

Yoongi <3: What? I think so. Just come here please

Namjoon lay on the hospital bed. His white clothes matched the sheets. His eyes were closed, as if he was sleeping, except he wasn’t breathing. Bruises coated his skin, and one side of his head was busted. A faint line of stitching showed on that side, much like what happened to Jin. 

Taehyung stood at the foot of the bed. Jungkook clung onto him, his head tucked into the older one’s shoulder. They both looked tired, with Taehyung’s messy hair, and the dark circles under Jungkook’s eyes. 

You stood in front of Yoongi. He was hugging you from behind, nuzzling his mouth on your hair. Though he tried to stay calm, you could feel tension in his hands. 

“This is unbelievable.” Taehyung chuckled bitterly. “This is all your fault!” he pointed a finger accusingly at you. 

You were taken aback by his sudden outburst. “What are you talking about? You think I wanted this?!”

“This all started ever since you bought that stupid mirror. First Jin, then Jimin. Now Namjoon was beaten to death, and guess what? His head exploded on a fucking fire hydrant. Even Hoseok’s missing, and god knows where he’ll turn up. Probably dead, because of you!”

“Taehyung, that’s enough!” Yoongi shouted at him. You flinched, never hearing Yoongi yell before. 

SIlence returned to the room, and you couldn’t help but think that Taehyung was right. All the fortune came to you, but you didn’t want your loved ones taken away.

“Yoongi, we should go back to the shop.”

Without Hoseok, Yoongi drove this time. Taehyung helped you find his car keys so you can use his car for a bit. The bagua was shoved in your bag, wrapped with cloth. You didn’t know how the mirror worked, so you avoided all physical contact with it for the meantime.

You wordlessly reached the shop. Yoongi got off the car first, and without waiting for you, stormed into the shop.

He was slamming the bell on the counter when you went inside, the two other boys following behind. “Anyone here? Ms. Mei? Is no one manning the store? Sehun, where the fuck are you?!” his voice rang throughout the store. 

Finally, the employee who assisted you with the furniture came out. He looked twice as annoyed, a sour frown on his face. He held a black bag and hauled it on the counter. “Sir, I would need to ask you to stop-”

“Where’s your boss? We’re returning something.” he stretched his hand out to you, gesturing for the mirror. You unzipped your bag, shuffling through your things, before handing him the bundled cloth.

“This-” he shoved it near the clerk’s face. “-has ruined our lives. Four of my friends died. Call me crazy, but they died because of this.”

His face paled upon seeing it. He stepped back, shaking his head. “Ms. Mei isn’t here, and I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Bullshit!” Yoongi drew his hand back, throwing the mirror on the ground. Glass shards lay under the now loose cloth. You felt relieved seeing the mirror broken. It means it’s over now, right? Whatever curse it had should be lifted. It was gone, and you were saved. 

“That’s not how it works.” The cashier said weakly. “Ms. Mei is not here, and never will be. She’s dead. The day after you bought the mirror, she was about to move to America. She mentioned something about wanting to get away. A few days later, her grandson called the shop. She died after getting into a horsefly attack.” He pointed to where the mirror fell.

You stared in shock. It wasn’t there anymore. The cloth and the shards were gone. Yoongi looked back at mouth hung in confusion. You checked your bag again, digging through your wallet and phone. There it was, the cloth still wrapped around it. You felt around it, trying to feel a crack. However, there were no signs of damage.

The cashier coaxed you forward. The four of you stood behind the counter, the mirror placed in between. You put your bag next to his, the weight wearing your shoulders off.

“My name’s Minseok. I’ve been running the shop with her ever since the start. She’s practically like family now, you know? I’ve seen that mirror around a few times. She had it with her, but she never talked about it or showed it to anyone. Actually, I don’t know how it got on that shelf the day you saw it. I thought she changed her mind about it and decided to sell it.” He looked at you, and you nodded.

“Before she went to America, she told me something about it. It came from a girl, way back in the 18th century. No one knew her name, and she was dubbed Lotus Feet since her feet were bounded to give her small feet, or lotus feet. During the battle of Ningpo, her family was being hunted down by the British. Food was scarce, and they were having a hard time escaping. So, they decided to leave her behind.  They thought she was a burden, so they left her for dead. This-” he tapped the mirror.

“-holds her soul. It’s evil. I know it brings luck, but if you accept the luck it brings, it takes a life in payment. In particular, those who have looked into the mirror after you.”

“But why did she die? If she knew about it, why couldn’t she do anything about it?” you asked him. The three boys were silent next to you. You could feel Taehyung’s burning stare, but decided to ignore it.

“You. You were the good luck it gave. Something she couldn’t reject. You wanted the mirror, and the curse was passed from her to you. The only way you can avoid its effects is to reject the luck it brings.” he pushed it towards you. 

“Can’t I find someone else? How do I permanently end this?” you pushed it back.

“Unless someone willingly accepts the mirror, it won’t leave you. Unless...” he paused, nibbling on his lip while he was deep in thought. 

“Unless?” Taehyung pushed on.

“Unless you can go to a Chinese blessing shop. You can destroy it there. There’s one, but it’s in another town, left from here. You should go.” He ushered you out, grabbing your bag and returning it to you. 

You bounded put the shop, waiting for Minseok as he locked the door. “I can’t come with you. I’m sorry but I need to send money to my mom, since she’s really sick.”

He walked towards Yoongi and got a pen out. “Go on that road and drive straight down until you reach the fourth intersection. Take a left, then a right, and drive until you see a ‘Welcome to Jil-An’ sign. Turn right on the second crossing, and the second building should be ‘An Liu’s Charm Shop’. Just go straight in and say Fa Mei sent you.” he instructed as he scribbled down on Yoongi’s arm. 

You got into the car, and Yoongi slammed the pedal. Through the rearview mirror, you could see Minseok’s fading form. The forest was getting larger as you ventured forward. The sun was starting to set too, and it was going to be a long night for you.

“Why can’t we just destroy it here? It’s more dangerous going there,” Taehyung looked out the window, big raindrops splattering on it rapidly. “Let’s just chuck it out the window or something.”

Along the way, you ran into a storm. It was pouring outside, and there were constant flashes of lightning. The car’s headlights provided little help with the amount of water dripping down the windshield. A twig or some leaves would slap against the car from time to time, but Yoongi was unfazed.

“We can’t do that. Didn’t you see what just happened at the shop?” he said through gritted teeth. Taehyung glared at him from the backseat. 

“Easy for you to say. You’re the only person in this damn car that hasn’t looked at that mirror, and you perfectly know you’re safe.” he leaned forward, grabbing the back of your seat.

“Taehyung, sit back down. You’re distracting him.” Jungkook murmured, though the older boy ignored him.

“See that?” he spoke, just as lightning lit up the sky. “That’s the sign of me dying soon. I’m next. I’m the stupid bastard who looked into the mirror, not you.”

Yoongi shifted gear, driving impossibly faster. You looked across to see him. Tears pooled at the edges of his eyes, ready to be released. His breathing was getting irregular, and his grip on the steering wheel was tightening. 

“It’ll just get restored again, you know that. Hyung please stop.” Jungkook whispered, pulling Taehyung back. 

The older boy pushed him off, sending him flying to the window with a thump. “Shut up! Unlike you, I don’t want to die yet!”

“What, you think I want to die? How could anyone fucking know looking into that thing would kill you? Stop putting the blame on someone and think for once.” Jungkook snarled at him, throwing a punch. 

Taehyung sat back, rubbing his throbbing jaw. Jungkook stared back at him, appalled. “Jungkook...” your eyes swept back and forth on the two boys.

“Can you please stop? We’re all suffering here.” Yoongi looked at Taehyung through the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry, okay? We’re trying to help here. We won’t just let you die.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Stop the car.”

“What-”

“Stop the car!”

Yoongi stepped on the brake, sending the car forward in a jolt. Taehyung's eyes flickered to the bagua you were holding, then to you. “If you won’t do anything about it, I would.

He lunged forward, grabbing the cloth from you. “Taehyung, no!” you screamed at him, trying to pull the mirror back. His hold was strong, and you couldn’t shake it off, even with Jungkook trying to pull his arms away. Yoongi clicked his seatbelt off and grabbed Taehyung’s wrist.

“Let go!” he yelled. Suddenly, Taehyung let out a pained scream. You looked up to see Jungkook forcefully biting his shoulder. Just as the younger one pulled away, he did too. With the sudden loss of contrast, Yoongi stumbled back in his seat, the mirror in his hands.

In a state of shock, he looked at it, his distorted reflection staring back at him. Frantically, he grabbed the cloth and wrapped it around the bagua again. With shaking hands, he handed it back to you. 

“No,” you whispered. “Not you too. No, Yoongi-” Tears streamed down your cheeks. You hugged him, sobbing into his chest. The two younger boys speechlessly watched on.

You felt soothing hands caressing your hair. “Baby, it’s okay. We can make it.” he gently told you. His face was close to yours, and you could feel his cheeks equally wet. Was he crying too?

You heard the door lock click, and turned your head just in time to catch a glimpse of Taehyung stepping outside. You were about to go after him, but Yoongi held you back. Jungkook, however, was out of the car within seconds. 

“Jungkook, no-” Yoongi was met a slam of the door. He turned to you. “Get your phone and call Jungkook. Tell him to go back” He readjusted the gear and backed up the road. 

You opened your bag, trying to feel the outline of your phone. ‘What?’ You opened the bag wider, turning on the inside light to get a better look. “Yoongi, this isn’t my bag.”

The bag had bands of money in it. None of it was yours, and most of the contents looked like it belonged to a man. Everything pieced together. 

“I changed bags with Minseok.” you stared at it in horror. It would be a matter of time now before something happens to the person next in line. Distressed, you rolled down the window, chucking the bag out. “I don’t want your money!”

Taehyung trudged through the forest. The wind slapped at his face, and the rain sprayed harshly against his skin. He wanted to go home. That was all he could think of. Maybe if he slept it off, he’d wake up to find that it was just dream. Hoseok would wake him up, then he’d go to the living room to find Namjoon sitting on the couch, reading the same boring book. 

Jin and Jimin would call him over to hang out, and at the end of the day, he’d have dinner at your house just as usual. 

He wanted to believe it so bad. The blinding lie was so much more comforting. It warmed him as he shivered under the trees. He brought an arm to wipe his face, not sure if he wiped away tears or raindrops. 

In the distance, he heard Jungkook call for him. “Hyung!” he whipped his head around to find a figure making its way to him. “Hyung, come back!”

He didn’t know why, but he broke out into a run. He entered the forest, trying to get away from the younger boy. Why was he running? Isn’t he tired of doing that very thing? 

Maybe he couldn’t think straight. There was no way of escaping death at this point, so what was the use of avoiding it?  The cold was distracting him, that’s for sure. Jungkook’s voice was fading, but he didn’t stop.

The ground he was stepping on started becoming muddier. He concentrated on his steps, trying not to trip. Then, a loud snap followed by excruciating pain on his leg ensued. He fell down, clutching his left leg. A bear trap bit into it, the metal hidden under the mud. 

He tried forcing it open, only to injure his fingers. He cried out. “Jungkook! Jungkook, help me!” he yanked at it, thinking of ripping it off in desperation. Pain coursed through every bone in his body. Slowly, he felt the sharp tips on his bone. 

His screams grew hoarse as he tried prying it off. Thunder covered the sound of his yells. Mud coated his body from moving on the ground too much. The rain made his hold slippery, and he could feel a chunk of his leg starting to separate. Panicked, he looked around, eyes stopping on a familiar boy silently watching behind the trees. “Hoseok hyung.”

“Yoongi, we have to go after them, and the car isn’t helping.” you sternly told him. At last, he hesitantly nodded, stepping out the car. You took your seatbelt off, grabbed the mirror, and followed suit. 

“Jungkook!” you shouted for him. “Jungkook!” Yoongi cupped his hands around his mouth. You walked more, the fog devouring the car as you got farther away. 

“Y/n,” you looked at him. His brown eyes no longer held coldness. Instead, they were filled with regret. Sadness. The boy was tired. “If something bad happens, promise me, the first thing we’ll do is to run back to that car.” you nodded, understanding his point. There was no guarantee Jungkook will make it. It hurt to sa that, but it was the truth; and you didn’t want Yoongi to go next.  

“Is that him?” Yoongi pointed at a shadowy form standing on the other side of the road. “Where-” you started to run towards it, only to have Yoongi pull you back again. A car zoomed past you, beeping loudly.

“Noona?” It was Jungkook. He started to show clearer as he jogged towards you. “Wait-” you shouted, fearing the worst. “-stay away from the road!” 

A loud honk interrupted. Jungkook was illuminated under bright headlights, like a deer caught on the road. Metal against flesh collided, and the boy was thrown a few feet away. The driver of the truck tried to regain control, only tipping the truck over. Broken milk bottles lay on the road, some of the milk turning pink around Jungkook’s body. 

Horrified, Yoongi put you behind him, and you walked back to the body. The milk turned a darker shade of red each step you took closer. Jungkook was slumped on the ground, his limbs bent at awkward angles. 

Yoongi shook his head. He reached for your hand again. “Time to go.”

You forced yourself to take our eyes off the scene. If Yoongi didn’t save you, would’ve it been over? It was unfair. The mirror knew you couldn’t reject the luck it just brought. What if it happened to Yoongi? No, not him. Dear god, anyone but him.

Various thoughts raced in your mind as you got back in the car. Yoongi started it again, absentmindedly staring out the windshield. “You know couldn’t just let you die out there right?” you nodded at him. His voice was weary, the same voice he used when he comforted you. 

The trees got replaced by pastures. Fences appeared at the side of the road. You were close. You could make it. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you passed the sign Minseok told you about. Yoongi let out a breath he was holding. He looked over to you, smiling. You smiled back, eyes glancing at the road again. 

“Yoongi!” you screamed. He swerved, however still hitting the lone chicken that was about to cross. He lost complete control of the car, sliding off the road and crashing into a fence. You felt his hand holding yours, before you were knocked unconscious.

The police found the wreckage in the morning. You woke up to an unfamiliar voice talking to you. “Miss? I think she’s conscious now. Miss, do you remember your name?” Your body ached all over. Your head was pounding, and something sharp poked at your ribs. 

A siren pierced your eardrums. You could make out the sound of mumbling, but you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Bits and pieces were caught up in your brain, then you suddenly felt something soft against you.

“-lost control, and it crashed on the chicken wire fence”

“What about the other one?”

“Didn’t make it, he-”

“Miss, can you hear me?”

The voices were blending in your head. You tried opening your eyes, immediately closing them as harsh light came into view. A hand cupped over your eyes, preventing further light from coming. You blinked twice, blurry eyesight starting to focus. 

“We’re taking you to the hospital, no need to worry about anything.” 

With much effort, you turned your head to face him. Your mouth froze into a scream, looking face to face with Yoongi. His head was busted and blood was all over him. 

“Time to go, sweetheart.”

[frmartinshomiliesandreflections]

17th March >> Fr, Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on

Matthew 13:24-32 for The Solemnity of Saint Patrick, Bishop, Missionary

     and on 

Matthew 18:21-35 for Tuesday, Third Week of Lent.

Solemnity of Saint Patrick, Bishop, Missionary

Gospel (Europe)

Matthew 13:24-32

Let them both grow till the harvest

Jesus put another parable before the crowds: ‘The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everybody was asleep his enemy came, sowed darnel all among the wheat, and made off. When the new wheat sprouted and ripened, the darnel appeared as well. The owner’s servants went to him and said, “Sir, was it not good seed that you sowed in your field? If so, where does the darnel come from?” “Some enemy has done this” he answered. And the servants said, “Do you want us to go and weed it out?” But he said, “No, because when you weed out the darnel you might pull up the wheat with it. Let them both grow till the harvest; and at harvest time I shall say to the reapers: First collect the darnel and tie it in bundles to be burnt, then gather the wheat into my barn.”’

He put another parable before them: ‘The kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed which a man took and sowed in his field. It is the smallest of all the seeds, but when it has grown it is the biggest shrub of all and becomes a tree so that the birds of the air come and shelter in its branches.’

Reflections (5)

(i) Solemnity of Saint Patrick

Coming up to the feast of Saint Patrick, I always find myself re-reading the two documents that have come down to us from him, his Confession and his letter to the soldiers of Coroticus. His Confession in particular is a very personal document. He says he writes it because he wants people ‘to know what kind of man I am so that they may perceive the aspiration of my life’. He says that he is writing this Confession in his ‘old age’. Not long before he wrote his Confession, the people in Britain who had been sponsoring his mission in Ireland had made serious accusations against him, which proved to be false. They were taking away his good name. This crisis brought on a personal crisis of faith which nearly destroyed him. His Confession was a response to this very hurtful attack on himself and his mission. He needed to show that the way he was being portrayed was not the kind of man he actually was. He says that because of the accusation made against him, he felt shame and disgrace and ‘the impulse was overpowering to fall way not only here and now but forever’. In that dark moment, he turned to the Lord on whom he had always relied and the Lord did not let him down. He says, ‘the Lord graciously spared his exile and wanderer for his own name’s sake and helped me greatly when I was being walked on in this way’. Patrick had a strong sense of the Lord speaking personally to him through images, dreams, visions. He mentions how the night after this accusation by his seniors in Britain, he had a vision of the night. He saw before his face a writing that dishonoured him, and simultaneously, he says, ‘I heard God’s voice saying to me: “We have seen with disapproval the face of the chosen one deprived of his good name”’. In the Confessions, there is a strong note of thanksgiving to God i for standing by him during this difficult time, ‘I give thanks to my God tirelessly who kept me faithful in the day of trial’.

As he looks back on his life journey, he tells us that he is the freeborn son of a Roman nobleman, a town Councillor, who was also a deacon of the church. He had a privileged upbringing, but he acknowledges that in his younger years, his faith was at best dormant, ‘we had turned away from God’. Then at the age of sixteen he tells us that everything changed. As he puts it, ‘I was taken into captivity in Ireland with many thousands of people’. Without warning, he lost everything, his family and friends, his community, his freedom of movement, his schooling. In his utter misery as a slave, he found himself becoming aware of God’s presence. He had a spiritual awakening. He speaks of ‘the great benefits and grace that the Lord saw fit to confer on me in the land of my captivity’. Even though this was a traumatic time of suffering and loneliness, he repeatedly speaks of the ‘wonderful gifts’ that the Lord gave him, which he identifies as ‘the great and beneficial gift of knowing and loving God’. He says, ‘the Lord indeed gave much to me, his little servant, more than as a young man I ever hoped for or even considered’. Among the gifts the Lord gave him at this time, he says, was the gift of prayer, ‘the spirit was stirred up so that in the course of a single day I would say as many as a hundred prayers, and almost as many in the night. This I did even when I was staying in the woods and on the mountain’. As the years of captivity passed, his prayer grew in intensity. He learned to listen carefully to the promptings of the Spirit within, giving him the guidance he needed to make important decisions. For example, he learned to discern when the time of his captivity was coming to an end and that his ship was ready. He eventually escaped his captivity and made his way home to his family in Britain. When he arrived home, he tells us that his relatives ‘welcomed me as a son and earnestly begged me that I should never leave them, especially in view of all the hardships I had endured’.

Yet, such was his openness to God’s presence and his attentiveness to the Spirit’s promptings he became convinced that he was being called back to Ireland to proclaim the faith which was now central to his life. One night he had a vision of a man called Victor who appeared to have come from Ireland with an unlimited number of letters. As he read one of them, he heard the voice, ‘We ask you, holy boy, come and walk once more among us’. Probably against his family’s wishes, he went abroad to study for the priesthood, most likely to Gaul, in preparation for his mission to the Irish. It is clear from his Confession that his subsequent mission in Ireland bore rich fruit. He wasn’t the first missionary to bring the gospel to Ireland. Earlier in the fifth century, the Bishop Palladius had founded communities of faith. However, he brought the gospel to parts of the island that had never heard it, ‘in places’, he says, ‘beyond which nobody lives’. The impact of his mission was hugely significant. He speaks in his Confession of the many thousands whom he baptized in the Lord. He expresses his indebtedness to God who ‘gave me so much grace that through me people should be born again in God and afterwards confirmed, and that clergy should be ordained for them everywhere’.

We share the faith that Patrick preached on our island fifteen centuries ago. We might be tempted to think that our faith is weak at times. We may be aware of what Jesus’ parable in the gospel reading calls ‘darnel’ in our own personal lives and in the life of the church as a whole. Yet, Patrick’s story reminds us that the Lord never abandons us or his church. No matter where we are in our faith journey, the Lord can break through to us in a wonderfully new way at any time in our lives, if we give him the space to do so. Sometimes, as Patrick’s life shows us, it is often in times of great adversity that the space is created in our lives for the Lord to work powerfully within us and through us. We could all make our own Patrick’s prayer wish towards the end of his Confession, ‘I ask God for perseverance, to grant that I remain a faithful witness to him for his own sake until my passing from this life’.

And/Or

(ii) Solemnity of Saint Patrick

 Today on the feast of St. Patrick, we celebrate the beginnings of the Christian story on this island. We remember Patrick as the one who lit a flame that has remained lighting for nearly sixteen hundred years. Like Paul and Barnabas in today’s second reading, he was a light to the nations, to this nation. When children are baptized, as the baptismal candle is lit from the Easter candle, the celebrant says to their parents and godparents, ‘This light is entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly. These children of yours have been enlightened by Christ… May they keep the flame of faith alive in their hearts’. Today we give thanks that the flame of faith Patrick first lit has been kept alive among us.

 Two of Patrick’s own writings have been preserved for us. They are his Confessions and a letter he wrote to the soldiers of a chieftain by the name of Coroticus. Through these writings the voice of Patrick continues to be heard among us. It is above all from his Confessions that we get the fascinating story of his life.

 He was born a citizen of Roman Britain. His father was a town councillor, part of the Roman administration in southern Britain, who owned a country residence with male and female servants. Patrick came from a Christian family. He tells us that his father was a priest and that his grandfather was a deacon. Yet, as a youth, Patrick’s faith was lukewarm.  Looking back on his youth many years later, he writes in his Confessions: ‘We had turned away from God; we did not keep his commandments’. We can imagine that this must have been a disappointment to his parents.

 Then at the tender age of sixteen, his rather comfortable world came crashing down around him. Writing in his Confessions, he says: ‘I was taken captive as a youth, a mere child… I was taken into captivity in Ireland with many thousands of people… this is where I now am, among strangers’. At a vulnerable and impressionable age, he was wrenched from the family that loved him, taken from his home, his friends, his culture, and thrown into a foreign land as a slave. An experience like that could destroy a young man. Yet, Patrick tells us that in this harsh exile, he had a powerful experience of God’s presence. When everything had been taken from him, he found God, or, rather, God found him. He writes in his Confessions about ‘the great benefits that the Lord saw fit to confer on me in my captivity’. He uses a powerful image to describe his spiritual reawakening: ‘Before I was humbled, I was like a stone lying in the deep mud. Then he who is mighty came and in his mercy he not only pulled me out but lifted me up and placed me at the very top of the wall’. In the wilderness of exile, his faith came alive.

 He goes on to tell us in his Confessions that six years after first coming to Ireland as a slave, at the age of twenty two, he managed to escape from his captivity and to make his way back to Roman Britain. What a home coming that must have been for his parents, who probably thought they would never see him again. They considered him dead, and here he was alive, lost, and now he was found. Patrick states that ‘they earnestly begged me that I should never leave them’. Some years later, Patrick tells us, he had a vision of a man coming from Ireland with a large number of letters. In his vision, Patrick took one of these letters in his hands, and as he began to read it he heard a crowd shout with one voice: ‘We ask you, boy, come and walk once more among us’.

 That vision touched him deeply. He did not come back to Ireland immediately. He first pursued higher studies in preparation for the priesthood, probably in Roman Gaul. After several years he made the journey back to the land of his captivity, initially as a priest. Having established himself as a missionary, he was appointed bishop. He writes in his Confessions: ‘I came to the Irish heathen to preach the good news’. He goes on to write: ‘I am very much in dept to God who gave me so much grace that through me many people should be born again in God and afterwards confirmed’. It is extraordinary that Patrick was prepared to endure voluntary exile to bring the gospel to a people among whom he had experienced captivity. He brought the precious gift of the Christian faith to those who had taken away his freedom many years earlier. I am reminded of a line in one of Paul’s letters: ‘Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good’. It could only have been Patrick’s relationship with the Lord that enabled him to overcome evil with good, as the Lord himself had done.

 Patrick’s story can still speak to us over the centuries. The darkest moment in his life proved to be life-giving both for himself and for the people in the land of his captivity. We have all know our own dark moments. At times we can feel that we are in a kind of exile ourselves, cut off from the supports that we had come to value so much. In ways we might never suspect at the time, such experiences can turn out to be life-giving for ourselves and others. God can be preparing us in those dark times to be labourers in his harvest, like the seventy two in today’s gospel reading. Patrick’s feast day invites us to trust that God can turn even our darkest experiences to good and can bring unexpected new life out of our losses.

And/Or

(iii) Solemnity of Saint Patrick

 About four years ago I climbed Croagh Patrick for the first time in the company of my sister and brother-in-law. They both live in Southern California. Patrick, who is from the United States, was determined to climb Croagh Patrick. He was recovering from cancer at the time, and, in spite of a very bad back, he wanted to make this climb in thanksgiving for having come through his surgery and treatment so well, and, also, as a form of prayer of petition for God’s ongoing help. We managed to get to the top, just about.

 The Croagh Patrick climb is one expression of the cult of St. Patrick that has continued down to our time. We venerate Patrick today because he spent himself in proclaiming the gospel on this island, bringing Christ to huge numbers of people. He says in his Confessions, ‘I am very much in debt to God who gave me so much grace that through me many people should be born again in God and afterwards confirmed, and that clergy should be ordained for them everywhere’. In amazement at what God had done through him, he asks, ‘How then does it happen in Ireland that a people who in their ignorance of God always worshipped only idols and unclean things up to now, have lately become a people of the Lord and are called children of God?’

 On his feast day we give thanks for Patrick’s response to God’s call to preach the gospel in the land of his former captivity. His first journey to Ireland was not of his own choosing. He was brought here as a slave at the age of 16, having been cruelly separated from his family and his homeland. This must have been a hugely traumatic experience for a young adolescent. He says in his confessions: ‘I was taken captive… before I knew what to seek or what to avoid’. Yet, out of this difficult experience came great good. Although Patrick had been baptized a Christian in his youth, he had developed no relationship with Christ. The faith into which he had been baptized had made no impact on his life. It was only in his captivity that Christ became real for him. In the land of his exile he had a religious awakening. He tells us: ‘When I came to Ireland… I used to pray many times during the day. More and more the love of God and reverence for him came to me. My faith increased… As I now realize, the spirit was burning within me’. That spiritual awakening had enormous consequences, not only for himself but for the people of the land where he was held captive.

 The Lord somehow got through to Patrick during the rigours of captivity in a way he had not got through to Patrick during his reasonably privileged upbringing at home. Patrick uses a striking image to express this transformation in his life: ‘Before I was humbled I was like a stone lying in the deep mud. Then he who is mighty came and in his mercy he not only pulled me out but lifted me up and placed me at the very top of the wall’.

 Patrick’s own story brings home to us that the Lord can work powerfully in dark and troubling times. In the course of our lives we can be brought places that we would rather not go. We might be separated from someone or some place that has been very significant for us. We find ourselves isolated and adrift, in unfamiliar and threatening territory, unsure of our future and with regrets about the past. Patrick’s story reminds us that when we find ourselves in such wilderness places, the Lord does not abandon us. Rather when we seem to be losing so much, he can grace us all the more. Patrick says in his confessions: ‘I cannot be silent… about the great benefits and graces that the Lord saw fit to confer on me in the land of my captivity’. When we are brought low, for whatever reason, the Lord will be as generous with us as he was with Patrick. If we remain open to the Lord in such times, as Patrick did, the Lord will not only grace us but he will also grace many others through us.

 Patrick’s experience teaches us to be alert to the signs of God’s presence even in difficult times. Patrick’s story reminds us that the Lord continues to work powerfully in what appears to be unpromising situations. In this morning’s gospel reading the prospects for a great catch of fish seemed very slim to Peter and his companions. After all, they had worked hard all night and had caught nothing. Yet, Jesus saw great prospects where Peter and the others saw little of promise. When Peter and the others set out in response to the word of Jesus they saw for themselves what Jesus could see all along. The Lord is always creatively at work even in the most unpromising of situations. However, if his work is to bear fruit, he needs us to set out in faith and hope in response to his word, as Peter and his companions did in this morning’s gospel reading, as Patrick did when he left his home for a second time to come to the island of his former captivity. We pray this morning for something of Patrick’s courageous and expectant faith.

And/Or

(iv) Solemnity of Saint Patrick

 We venerate Patrick on this his feast day because he spent himself in proclaiming the gospel on this island, bringing Christ to huge numbers of people. He says of himself in his Confessions, ‘The love of Christ gave me to these people to serve them humbly and sincerely for my entire lifetime’. In amazement at what God had done through him, he asks, ‘How then does it happen in Ireland that a people who in their ignorance of God always worshipped only idols and unclean things up to now, have lately become a people of the Lord and are called children of God?’ He was amazed at how much God had done through him, all the more so because he was very aware of his failings and weaknesses. At the beginning of his Confessions he says, ‘although I am imperfect in many ways I want my brothers and sisters and my relatives to know what kind of man I am so that they may understand the aspiration of my life’. Later on in his Confessions he says, ‘I realize that I did not altogether lead a life as perfect as other believers’. Patrick knew that he was a mixture of wheat and weed, like the field in the parable of today’s gospel reading. In that parable the owner of the field does not despise the field because darnel was to be found among the wheat. He was happy to allow both to grow together knowing that they would be separated at harvest time. When the Lord looks upon us, he looks beyond our failings to the good that is within us. Patrick did not allow his awareness of his imperfections to hold him back from doing what he knew God was calling him to do. There is a lesson there for us all, especially in these days when we have become more aware of the church’s imperfections and failings.

 On his feast day we give thanks for Patrick’s response to God’s call to preach the gospel in the land of his former captivity. He was brought here as a slave at the age of 16, having been cruelly separated from his family and his homeland. This must have been a hugely traumatic experience for a young adolescent. Yet, out of this difficult experience came great good. Although Patrick had been baptized a Christian in his youth, he had developed no relationship with Christ. The faith into which he had been baptized had made no impact on his life. It was only in his captivity that Christ became real for him. He tells us: ‘When I came to Ireland… I used to pray many times during the day... My faith increased… the spirit was burning within me’. Patrick uses a striking image to express this transformation in his life: ‘Before I was humbled I was like a stone lying in the deep mud. Then he who is mighty came and in his mercy he not only pulled me out but lifted me up and placed me at the very top of the wall’. That spiritual awakening had enormous consequences, not only for himself but for the people of the land where he was held captive.

 In the course of our lives we can find ourselves in unfamiliar and threatening territory, unsure of our future and with regrets about the past. Patrick’s story reminds us that when we find ourselves in such wilderness places, the Lord is with us. Our brokenness can provide the openings for the Lord to enter our lives. Patrick says in his confessions: ‘I cannot be silent… about the great benefits and graces that the Lord saw fit to confer on me in the land of my captivity’. When we are brought low, for whatever reason, the Lord will be as generous with us as he was with Patrick, and if we seek the Lord in such times, as Patrick did, the Lord will not only grace us but he will grace many others through us.

 After six years Patrick said that he was given the opportunity to escape from his captivity. He was directed to a boat some distance from where he was minding sheep. The captain reluctantly took him on board. Three days sailing was followed by twenty eight days journeying through deserted country. At the end of that journey Patrick describes a very dark spiritual experience that he had, ‘when I was asleep Satan tempted me with a violence which I will remember as long as I am in this body. There fell on me as it were a great rock and I could not stir a limb’. However, he goes on to say that when he cried out in prayer he saw the sun rising in the sky and ‘the brilliance of that sun fell suddenly on me and lifted my depression at once’. Reflecting on that experience, he declares, ‘I believe that I was sustained by Christ my Lord and that his Spirit was even then calling out on my behalf’. Patrick was a great missionary but he also struggled with the darker experiences of life. Yet, he knew the Lord’s presence in his darkness of spirit as much as in the success of his mission. Patrick’s experience teaches us to be alert to the signs of God’s presence in difficult times as well as in good times, in those times when we are more aware of the darnel in our lives than of the wheat.

And/Or

(v) Solemnity of Saint Patrick

Today on the feast of St. Patrick, we remember Patrick as the one who lit a flame that has remained lighting for nearly sixteen hundred years. He was one of the first to preach the gospel in our land; he broke new ground. The Lord could have said of Patrick’s mission what he says in today’s first reading, ‘See, I am doing a new deed, even now it comes to light; can you not see it?’

 Two of Patrick’s own writings have been preserved for us. It is above all from his Confession that we get the fascinating story of his life. He was probably born a citizen of Roman Britain and came from a Christian family. Yet, as a youth, his faith was lukewarm.  He writes in his Confessions: ‘We had turned away from God; we did not keep his commandments’. At the tender age of sixteen, his rather comfortable world came crashing down around him. Writing in his Confessions, he says: ‘I was taken into captivity in Ireland with many thousands of people’. Patrick became an emigrant, against his wishes. Many of our young people today find themselves in a similar situation. We probably all know family and friends who have recently emigrated without it being their first choice. Patrick’s forced emigration was of a rougher kind. He was wrenched from the family that loved him by captives, and thrown into a foreign land as a slave. An experience like that could destroy a young man. Yet, Patrick tells us that in this harsh exile, he had a powerful experience of God’s presence. He writes in his Confessions about ‘the great benefits that the Lord saw fit to confer on me in my captivity’. In the wilderness of exile, when everything was taken from him, his faith started to fan into a living flame. In this moment of spiritual re-awaking he could easily have made his own the words of Paul in today’s second reading, ‘I look on everything as so much rubbish if only I can have Christ and be given a place in him... All I want is to know Christ’. Whenever we experience some devastating loss, the suffering can be bitter indeed; we find ourselves at the foot of the cross. Yet, like Patrick, we can also find, perhaps to our surprise, that the risen Lord comes to us in that dark place and touches us deeply.

 Patrick goes on to tell us in his Confessions that six years after first coming to Ireland as a slave, at the age of twenty two, he escaped from his captivity and made his way home. What a home coming that must have been for his parents. Patrick states that ‘they earnestly begged me that I should never leave them’. Yet, some years later, he had a vision of a man coming from Ireland with a large number of letters and in that vision he heard a crowd shout with one voice: ‘We ask you, boy, come and walk once more among us’. There and then he decided to answer the call. He first pursued studies for the priesthood, probably in Roman Gaul. After several years he made the journey back to the land of his captivity, initially as a priest. Having established himself as a missionary, he was appointed bishop. He writes in his Confessions: ‘I came to the Irish heathen to preach the good news’. This time Patrick voluntarily went into exile to bring the gospel to the very people who had formerly held him captive. He brought the precious gift of the Christian faith to those who had taken away his freedom many years earlier.

 At the heart of the gospel that Patrick preached was the message of the Lord’s love of us in all our frailty and weakness. That is the message of this morning’s gospel reading. The religious leaders brought a woman caught in the act of adultery to Jesus for his judgement. They thought of themselves as good religious people in contrast to the sinful woman. Jesus’ comment, ‘If there is one of you who has not sinned, let him be the first to throw a stone at her’, showed them that they were just as much sinners as she was. The reality is that we are all sinners; we just sin in different ways. The good news of Jesus is that God loves us unconditionally in spite of our sin. To receive that love and allow ourselves to be transformed by it, we simply need the humility to acknowledge our sin and to come before the Lord in our poverty. This was the humility Paul shows in our second reading, ‘Not that I have become perfect yet... but I am still running’. This humility characterized the life of Patrick too and as is clear from the opening words of his Confession, ‘I am Patrick, a sinner, the most unlearned of men, utterly worthless in the eyes of many’. He knew his past was far from perfect. Yet, he came to understand that the Lord is more interested in our present and our future than in our past. That was the message of Jesus to the woman in the gospel reading. It is his message to all of us.

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Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

Gospel (Europe, Africa, New Zealand, Australia & Canada)

Matthew 18:21-35

To be forgiven, you must forgive

Peter went up to Jesus and said, ‘Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?’ Jesus answered, ‘Not seven, I tell you, but seventy-seven times.

‘And so the kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who decided to settle his accounts with his servants. When the reckoning began, they brought him a man who owed ten thousand talents; but he had no means of paying, so his master gave orders that he should be sold, together with his wife and children and all his possessions, to meet the debt. At this, the servant threw himself down at his master’s feet. “Give me time” he said “and I will pay the whole sum.” And the servant’s master felt so sorry for him that he let him go and cancelled the debt. Now as this servant went out, he happened to meet a fellow servant who owed him one hundred denarii; and he seized him by the throat and began to throttle him. “Pay what you owe me” he said. His fellow servant fell at his feet and implored him, saying, “Give me time and I will pay you.” But the other would not agree; on the contrary, he had him thrown into prison till he should pay the debt. His fellow servants were deeply distressed when they saw what had happened, and they went to their master and reported the whole affair to him. Then the master sent for him. “You wicked servant,” he said “I cancelled all that debt of yours when you appealed to me. Were you not bound, then, to have pity on your fellow servant just as I had pity on you?” And in his anger the master handed him over to the torturers till he should pay all his debt. And that is how my heavenly Father will deal with you unless you each forgive your brother from your heart.’

Gospel (USA)

Matthew 18:21-35

Unless each of you forgives your brother and sister, the Father will not forgive you.

Peter approached Jesus and asked him, “Lord, if my brother sins against me, how often must I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus answered, “I say to you, not seven times but seventy-seven times. That is why the Kingdom of heaven may be likened to a king who decided to settle accounts with his servants. When he began the accounting, a debtor was brought before him who owed him a huge amount. Since he had no way of paying it back, his master ordered him to be sold, along with his wife, his children, and all his property, in payment of the debt. At that, the servant fell down, did him homage, and said, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back in full.’ Moved with compassion the master of that servant let him go and forgave him the loan. When that servant had left, he found one of his fellow servants who owed him a much smaller amount. He seized him and started to choke him, demanding, ‘Pay back what you owe.’ Falling to his knees, his fellow servant begged him, ‘Be patient with me, and I will pay you back.’ But he refused. Instead, he had him put in prison until he paid back the debt. Now when his fellow servants saw what had happened, they were deeply disturbed, and went to their master and reported the whole affair. His master summoned him and said to him, ‘You wicked servant! I forgave you your entire debt because you begged me to. Should you not have had pity on your fellow servant, as I had pity on you?’ Then in anger his master handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt. So will my heavenly Father do to you, unless each of you forgives your brother from your heart.”

Reflections (8)

(i) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

In the parable that Jesus speaks in today’s gospel reading, the servant who owed the king a huge amount of money pleaded, ‘Give me time and I will pay you’. Another servant who owed this first servant a relatively small some of money pleaded with him in the same words, ‘Give me time and I will pay you’. Both of them asked for time to pay a debt that they owed. Neither of the two servants was given the time that they asked for. The king simply cancelled the huge debt of the first servant, with the result that the servant did not need time to repay his debt. The first servant had the second servant thrown into prison, with the result that he was deprived of the time that he needed to repay the debt. In this parable, Jesus appears to be drawing a sharp contrast between how God relates to us and how we often relate to each other. When both servants asked for time, they were thinking in terms of work. They needed time to work off what they owed. However, the king gave the servant what he was looking for before he had time to work for it. The parable suggests that God does not ask us to work for the mercy that we need. The forgiveness that God extends to us when we sin is not a response to our efforts. Jesus reveals a God who gives generously to those who have nothing to offer. Having graced us in this extraordinarily generous way, God expects us to grace others in similar ways.

 And/Or

(ii) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

The question that Peter put to Jesus in this morning’s gospel reading suggested that there was a limit to forgiveness. ‘How often must I forgive? As often as seven times?’ When Jesus replied, ‘Not seven, but seventy seven times’, he was suggesting that there was no limit to forgiveness. Peter’s round figure of seven seemed very reasonable. However, it was not reasonable to Jesus. He pushed Peter beyond where Peter was inclined to stop. The exchange between Peter and Jesus reminds us just how demanding the message of Jesus in the gospels is. In a sense, Jesus calls on us to be God-like, in the matter of forgiveness as in other matters. Jesus implies that God’s readiness to forgive those who ask his forgiveness is limitless and our readiness to forgive should also be limitless. Our reading this morning is taken from Matthew’s gospel, and earlier in that gospel, in the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus had called on his disciples to be perfect as our heavenly Father is perfect. In reality, he calls on us to be as merciful as God is merciful, as forgiving as God is forgiving. We certainly need the help of the Holy Spirit, of God’s Spirit, if we are to respond to that call, if we are to be God-like as Jesus was.

 And/Or

(iii) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

Peter has a very significant profile in Matthew’s gospel. It is only in Matthew’s gospel that Jesus addresses him as the rock on which he will build his church. It is only in this gospel that we find Peter asking the question that he asks in this morning’s gospel reading, ‘Lord, how often must I forgive my brother if he wrongs me? As often as seven times?’  In the Scriptures, seven is a symbol of fullness and completion. To forgive someone seven times would seem to be as far as one could possibly go. However, in reply to Peter’s question Jesus states that we should forgive seventy seven times. In other words, there is to be no limit to our willingness to forgive. However, Jesus was aware that the human tendency was to put a limit on forgiveness; the parable he went on to speak bears that out. In that story, even someone who had been generously forgiven a huge debt could not find it in his heart to forgive another to a much lesser extent. Jesus was aware of how forgiving God was. In the gospel reading he is calling on Peter and on all of us to be God-like in our readiness to forgive. This is one aspect of what Jesus meant when he said earlier in Matthew’s gospel, ‘Be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect’.

 And/Or

(iv) Tuesday, Third week of Lent

When Peter asked Jesus the question, ‘How many times must I forgive my brother or sister if he wrongs me?’ and then suggests an answer to his own question, ‘as often as seven times?’ Peter’s answer would have sounded very reasonable to most people. Seven was considered the perfect number; to forgive seven times was perfect forgiveness. However, Jesus goes further that Peter’s suggested answer, ‘seventy seven times’. In other words, forgiveness must be limitless. The parable he goes on to speak explains why this must be so. The first servant owed the king ten thousand talents, which was an astronomical sum at the time. In cancelling the debt the king shows extraordinary generosity; mercy certainly triumphs over justice. The parable is reminding us that God’s readiness to forgive is limitless. There is nothing calculating about God’s mercy. It goes beyond what is normally found in the world of human experience. All that is required to release such mercy is to ask for it. When the first servant was approached by a fellow servant who owed him a very small sum, this first servant who had been so greatly graced acted without mercy towards his fellow servant. The parable is suggesting that when people are in debt to us, it is nothing compared to how much we are in debt to God, and if God is endless in his mercy towards us, we must be limitless in our mercy towards others. Such a willingness and ability to forgive those who have wronged us won’t always come easy to us. It will often be a lifetime’s work. It is our growing awareness of how great God’s mercy is towards us that will free us to show mercy to others eventually.

 And/Or

(v) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

You often hear the saying, ‘time is money’. That understanding of time seems to be present in this morning’s gospel reading. When the servant who owed the king a staggering amount of money discovered that he and all his family and possessions were to be sold into slavery to pay the debt, he asked the king for time to pay the debt, ‘Give me time and I will pay the whole sum’. The king agreed to his servant’s request. When the servant subsequently met a fellow servant who owed him a very small amount of money, his fellow servant made the same request of him that he had made of the king, ‘Give me time and I will pay you’. However the servant was not prepared to grant his fellow servant the precious gift of time, the time he needed to pay off the debt. Time can symbolize money but it can symbolize so much else as well. It can also symbolize forgiveness. Giving time to someone can be saying, ‘I withhold judgement for now’. One of the greatest gifts we can give to another is the gift of time. One of the messages of this morning’s parable may be that the Lord is much more generous with the gift of time that we are. The Lord gives us time to put things right, to return to him with all our heart, to give him the place in our lives that he deserves. As one of the letters of the New Testament puts it, ‘with the Lord, one day is like a thousand years’. The parable calls on us to give this gift of time to others with the same generosity that the Lord gives this gift to us.

 And/Or

(vi) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

Today’s first reading from the Book of Daniel is one of the great acts of sorrow for sin in the Jewish Scriptures. It is a communal act of sorrow. Although prayed by an individual, it is prayed on behalf of all the people. ‘Now we are despised throughout the world today because of our sins’. That confession of sin is followed by a firm promise to take a new path, ‘Now we put our whole heart into following you, into fearing you and seeking your face once more’. The prayer expresses confidence in God’s mercy, ‘Treat us gently, as you yourself are gentle and very merciful’. The people can make this prayer for mercy, in the confidence that the God of mercy will hear it. Although it is a Jewish prayer, it could be prayed by any Christian, as is the case with so many Jewish prayers. This prayer is reflected in the request of the servant in the gospel reading who threw himself at his master’s feet, imploring him, ‘Give me time and I will pay the whole sum’. He owed a very large sum of money to his master and needed time to pay it off. The master in the parable gave him more than he asked for. He simply cancelled the vast debt so that the time asked for was superfluous. There is an image here of God whose response to our prayer for mercy is always more generous than we could imagine. Having been graced so abundantly, the servant refused to grant a much smaller grace to a fellow servant who also asked for time to pay off a much smaller debt. As a result, the first servant lost the forgiveness he had been granted. Jesus is reminding us in this parable, that we are to give as we have received. The abundant mercy we have received from God obliges us to pass some of it on to others. That is why Jesus taught us to pray, ‘Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us’.

 And/Or

(vii) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

The first reading today is one of the great prayers for forgiveness in the Jewish Scriptures. The prayer reflects the experience of exile, after the overthrow of the king and the destruction of Jerusalem and its temple. ‘We have at this time no leader, no prophet, no prince, no holocaust, no sacrifice, no oblation, no incense, no place where we can offer you the first fruits’. The Temple, where people traditionally looked for and received God’s forgiveness is gone. Yet, the person praying is not despondent. They may not be able to offer sacrifices in the Temple, but they can offer another, more significant sacrifice, which doesn’t require a Temple, namely, ‘the contrite soul, the humbled spirit’ This sacrifice of a contrite soul and humble spirit gives the person praying confidence that God’s forgiveness will be forthcoming, ‘those who put their trust in you will not be disappointed’. The mood of this prayer is very close to the message of Jesus. He came to reassure people, as God’s Son, that those who put their trust in God’s mercy, those who look to God for forgiveness with a contrite spirit and heart, will receive God’s mercy in abundance. God does not withhold his mercy from those who seek it. That message finds expression in story form in the parable Jesus speaks in today’s gospel reading. The servant who owed an unpayable debt to his master has that debt cancelled because the servant pleaded with the master with a contrite soul and heart. If the first part of the parable has that consoling message, the second part has a more challenging message. We are to give to others, as we have received from God. We are to forgive others, when forgiveness is asked of us, just as God forgives us when we ask to be forgiven.

 And/Or

(viii) Tuesday, Third Week of Lent

It has been said that everyone is in favour of forgiveness until they have someone to forgive. It is easy to talk about the value of forgiveness but not so easy to give expression to that value in our lives when the need arises. It is only when we see forgiveness in action that we realize what a powerful reality it is. I was very struck by an expression of forgiveness in recent weeks. In the aftermath of the killings in Christchurch, a Muslim man in a wheelchair was in one of the Mosques at the time of the shooting. His wife was killed trying to protect him. The following day, he was asked by a member of the media what he would say to the mass murderer, if he were to meet him. He said, ‘I will tell him that inside him he has great potential to be a generous person, to be a kind person, to be a person who would save people, save humanity, rather than destroy them’. He went on to say, ‘I hope and I pray for him he would be a great civilian one day. I don’t have any grudge’. Such willingness to forgive in the face of evil leaves us all feeling very humbled. Here was a man who had so much to forgive and he freely forgave. In such moments, we catch a glimpse of God’s forgiveness. In the parable Jesus told, the master had much to forgive his servant but he forgave him freely. This same servant, having been forgiven so generously, subsequently had very little to forgive someone else but refused to do so. The parable suggests that God’s willingness to forgive generously is not in doubt. What can be in doubt is our willingness to pass on the forgiveness we have received to those who sin against us.

Fr. Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, D03 AO62, Ireland.

Email: sjtbclontarf@eircom.net or  revmartinhogan@gmail.com

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