#guests coming over was few and far between so it was easiest to just manage the situation

[tea-time-terrier]

The mortifying ordeal of your training gaps no longer being manageable <3

[moonshine-nightlight]

Don't Shoot the Messenger: Part Three

Despite how it might seem, being a messenger for the feared sea-demon pirate, Admiral Satrasi, infamous far and wide for having an entire fleet of raiding vessels  who answer to him alone, is a relatively safe job. After all, no one knowingly crosses the Admiral. However, it appears the most recent captain looking to join his fleet hasn’t gotten that bulletin yet.

Fantasy, pirates, male monster x female reader, male demon, M/F, Part 3 of 9

Story Status: COMPLETE

AO3: Don't Shoot the Messenger Chapter 3

[Part One] [Part Two] Part Three [Part Four] [Part Five] [Part Six] [Part Seven][Part Eight] [Part Nine - NSFW]

As if to soothe and remind yourself of where you are now, you dream of your first meeting with Satrasi.

You triple check your basket, wanting to make sure you’re leaving none of your precious few possessions behind in this barn, lost among the straw.

Mr. Herly had asked you for your help managing the animals and other household chores while his wife recovered from giving birth. Long days getting up early and working late, doing all manner of physical tasks, is hard, but having fresh food and a warm place to sleep is worth it. They don’t have much to spare, especially with the babe to account for now, and so soon enough they let you know it's time you moved on. 

You check your clothing last, making sure you skirt and jacket are as clean as you can make them and your stays are as tight as they can be over your chest. One of the easiest ways to make you look younger is by keeping your chest as flat as possible. Folks are less wary and more sympathetic when they forget how old you were. 

You’ve lived in this town your whole life, so everyone knows about the girl orphaned by tragedy—and you want them to keep thinking of you that way as long as you can, want to hold onto that goodwill, with a slight wariness like bad luck might be catching, for as long as can. Only trouble can come on the heels of them realizing you grew into a woman of marrying age—or more likely, bedding age—two years ago. Luckily, time is a slippery thing to keep track of and no one ever wants to believe its passing as fast as it is, especially not older folks.

Between the fact that you never grew overmuch and you do your best to keep looking as you always have, you hope to stay a child in everyone’s eyes as long as you. People underestimate a child, at least one as small, polite, and quiet as you, far more than they do a grown woman. Or at least they don’t think of you enough to distrust you. Just enough to think on how you might be useful to be worth some food. Then you move on to the next few who might be willing to feed you—and someone always needs help with something.

Not that you haven’t been thinking, more and more often lately, that it might be best to leave your town for good. 

You’ve no permanent home, but you have hideaways you frequent: an overhang by the river, Old Man Mills’ outlying barns, ruins of the road lookout. Today, you head for the cave on the outskirts of town. Far from the river, but far less frequented, it would help you stay cool and had its own freshwater pool which made for a good respite from the sun and its heat. 

With its spot by the road, it should also let you keep an eye on any comings and goings. People coming in are always worth giving the innkeeper a fair warning about so she could get the inn ready for guests. She might even need a hand taking care of them. If any townsfolk are heading into the city to trade, that might also be a chance for you to tag along to the large port city three days ride. You've been trying to familiarize yourself with it as much as you can before moving there permanently.

Unfortunately, the cave isn’t one you can stay in long term: too cold in the winter, not secure in the slightest—not to mention eventually your back starts to ache something fierce from sleeping on stone for too long. But it was a wonderful escape for a few days, to think by yourself and take stock of what you have, and you like to give yourself and the town a break from your presence so no resentment or annoyance starts to fester. 

It’s a fine line to walk between helpful and pitiable orphan and troublesome, layabout beggar.

You’ve always preferred it on the edges anyways.

You duck off the road and head down to the cave, eyes sharp for any obvious foot traffic or signs someone else might have thought it a good place to camp out in. Nothing on the way down at first, but right by the entrance there are some odd tracks in the dirt, almost like large snakes. That’s enough to make you wary—there aren’t any animals of that sort around here and you’re fairly certain the forest demon that roams these woods is more deer- or wolf-like than snake-like. You’ve certainly no desire to disrupt them and so you wait in the shadows, listening and watching for any sign someone else might already be in your refuge. 

When enough time passes, you carefully enter, ready to flee if a single thing looks out of place. Slowly your hackles lower as the cave looks as if it always has and no sound—not even of someone sleeping—reaches your ears. You perform your usual checks, storing your food only when you’re certain there’s no one here that might take it from you. 

All you find is a rusted and bent belt buckle that looks weeks old. Maybe a traveler did take advantage of the cave rather than pay for a night at the inn and this is all they left behind. That's happened before.

Finally more secure in the knowledge you’re alone, you leave your jacket—once a few different threadworn blankets people had thrown out which you sewed together to help keep you warm— and your basket in an alcove invisible from the main cave and head for the pool.

The pool’s surface is as still as it always has been, reaching the back wall of the cave and obviously going deeper under the rock than you could ever swim. Every few years the young and brash remember this cave and try to dare each other to see how far they can get, see if they could find the secret room legend says holds treasure if only you could swim far enough, but no one ever has. You’re fairly certain the water never hits air again and you’re grateful when the others forget about the cave once again. 

There’s a few small holes in the ceiling near the pool, enough to let a couple shafts of light in, but not big enough for anything else to come through. It gives enough light to the closest shore so to speak of the pool, helping to ensure you don’t just walk straight in. Besides, the water was dark enough even with that light, always so deep even this close to the edge. The light helps make it approachable enough for you to take a drink. 

You lean down to do just that, cupping some of the cool, clear water and slurping, only for something to catch you attention. Is there something reflective in the water? You narrow your eyes and reach, carefully holding the edge of the pool with one hand as you plunge the other down. There’s a narrow shelf around the edge of the pool and the water goes up past your elbow before your hands close around something long and metallic, but pliable too. You frown as you pull back to sit on your heels, kneeling next to the pool to study your prize.

It's not quite a chain, almost a braid of silver. A lanyard of some sort? But why make one out of silver? Awfully pricey for a bit of flash. It doesn’t appear to be a necklace or bracelet–too thick for that and the wrong length. How would one even wear this?

“Is that my aiguillette?” an echo-y, wet, but deep voice makes you freeze, your head wiping up to try to discover the source of the sound. How could you have missed someone else being here? You’d looked everywhere. “Thought I’d lost it.”

Without realizing it, you find yourself staring across the pool to the back wall of the cave. Red eyes that glow with black pupils stare back at you from just over the water’s surface. They blink and you realize numbly that the creature has four of them, two smaller eyes without pupils at all are just off the outer corner of their primary eyes.

Demon, your mind instantly supplies. 

The eyes move up, getting higher above the water for all it doesn’t so much as ripple at their movement. They move closer too, but you can’t find the energy to get up. You’re fairly certain it wouldn’t matter if you could. Demons are notoriously fast and strong. If this one wants to catch you, you're already caught.

A shaft of light finally illuminates more of them and your eyes trace over slick, gray skin and scattered clusters of dull red scales reflect some of the light. A brief glimpse of his facial expression seems amused more than anything, which you suppose is better than hungry. 

“How about you hand that back over to me, hm?” he asks, coming to a halt about two yards or so away from the edge of the pool where you are. His eyes dart to where you have the silver braid clutched instinctively to your chest.

Silver’s worth something, even the town blacksmith would be able to give you good coin for it, not to mention a silversmith at the port. 

You don’t hesitate in tossing it to him. Not only does it sound like it was his to start with and you’re no thief, but no bit is worth your life.

An arm reaches to catch it with ease, although… You frown. There’s a frilled fin coming from his forearm, but the skin of it looks dull and limp, almost fragile. When he moves forward just a little bit more, he ends up in a larger pocket of light. While he runs his fingers over the silver, you notice that all of his skin, or is it scales on a sea demon? look similarly dull and pale. Are they actually gray? Or some other color that’s been almost washed out?

“My thanks,” he says, and he sounds sincere enough under his amusement that your eyes snap back to his strange ones. He appears to be studying you with some interest and your skin prickles with nerves. You prefer to be below most people’s notice and this demon certainly is no exception. Still, you’re not certain fleeing is the right choice. What if that just makes him try to chase?

You can’t seem to look him in the eye for long without losing your sense of where you are, which scares you because you always keep your surroundings in mind. So you let your eyes trail down, noticing he’s not wearing a stitch as far as you can tell. Has he been back somewhere in the depths of the pool, of the cave, all these years? Wouldn’t the silver have been more tarnished? You’ve certainly never seen it before.

You narrow your eyes because there is a silent sort of movement in the water around his chest, as if he’s breathing heavily, but he doesn’t sound out of breath and you can see his face. You have to stop yourself from leaning closer, instead just squinting to try to make out… a glint of…teeth?

All of a sudden the image solidifies to you. He doesn’t have a large scar down his front: it's a mouth with almost metal teeth in it, opening and closing as it takes in water. 

“No need to be so nervous,” he says, definitely entertained by your newly discovered fear likely evident by the goosebumps that spread to cover you. “You’re hardly more than a morsel.”

A shiver goes down your spine at his words, despite the fact that you do find you believe him. You can’t decide if you were wrong about him being hungry or not. Each second that passes without him attacking you helps ease your nerves.

When next you refocus on his face, he’s leaning a bit closer, his own eyes narrowed at you. “Do you speak at all, little bite?”

You flush and reply without thinking, “When the situation calls for it.”

He laughs at that, revealing pointy, bright white teeth. “Well said. What brings you to this lovely cave? I’ve been here for days with no visitors.” 

“I should think not,” you say, adjusting your seat and interested in what he might reveal. Now that you’re fairly sure he isn’t going to kill you, you’re intrigued despite your survival instinct. “No one really comes here, except kids trying to see how far they can swim.” You nod towards where the pool goes under the rock wall. “Too out of the way for most townsfolk.”

“So there is a town nearby,” he says, seemingly to himself.

You frown. “What are you doing out here, if you don’t even know about the town?”

His smirk returns at your question. “Some folks managed to get the jump on me, intent on cashing in some bounty from the Governor based on their chatter.” 

You don’t need to hear the rest. The Governor of your province doesn’t have an outstanding bounty for demons in general, so this one had to have done something to earn a bounty substantial enough to warrant someone going after him. He must be some sort of bandit or, more likely, a pirate given his nature.

Your eyes have continued to adjust to the light and his small movements so you give him another sweep as you think on his story. There it is—a gash on his shoulder you hadn’t noticed but now you can see is fresh. Something else on that same side of his torso also looks damaged, murky as your view is through the water. 

“I assure you, they came out of the encounter far worse,” his voice has more of a hiss to it this time when it interrupts your thoughts. He doesn’t look defensive, but rather as though he doesn’t want you getting any bright ideas—as if you thought yourself able to take this demon on even if he’d been missing the arm entirely. You don't survive by fighting. You survive by not being noticed and by making yourself useful enough to outweigh any burden you cause.

“You’re stuck though, aren’t you?” you ask, feeling the truth in your words as you say them. Sea demons need the sea, although to what extent you’re not sure, and this pool is freshwater. The fight he was in might justify a brief rest to recover, but despite the lack of blood and his own admission to being here for a few days now, he’s not left yet. He isn’t doing too well either, he looks faded somehow or maybe even swollen? It's so hard to tell with the light and the water, but something isn’t right and he hasn’t left to make it right yet.

You’re always on the lookout for who best to offer your help to, an expert at determining who needs you enough to accept your aid and not chase you off. This water might be better than no water, especially after however long he was captured for, but it's not the sea. 

He raises his brows at that and adjusts himself so he’s leaning on a stalagmite that reaches from down below to just barely breach the surface of the pool. “Is that so?”

“Sea’s more than three days' ride from here,” you say instead, answering his real question. “By road. Can’t get across the mountain without the tunnel on foot any faster.”

He hums thoughtfully at that, the sound resonating through the air and water. “I see.” 

When he seems content to think over your words, you chance moving. Leaning to the right, you take the waterskin you have, filling it up, before leaning over to drink more yourself, never having truly satisfied your thirst before he spoke.

“Bold little creature, aren’t you?” he comments and your eyes move to meet his once more. You’re good at reading what people think of you, and while no one’s ever called you ‘bold’ before, you can tell he at least doesn’t think it bad thing. If anything, he seems impressed. No one’s ever been impressed by you before. “I think I might be offended, if you’re over your fear so quickly.”

You tilt your head to the side as you consider his words. “You already said you’d no plans to eat me. And if you wanted to, I doubt this distance,” you motion between you and him, “would cause that outcome to be any different. And I’m thirsty.”

He chuckles, the sound bouncing around the cave oddly. You’re not sure if he’s intentionally trying to be menacing. He doesn’t seem to be and, for whatever reason, it's not working regardless. You have long honed instincts about people and, for whatever reason, your nerves don’t rate him as a current threat. Dangerous because of what he is and how strong he is, but with no intentions of causing harm. Far better than the reverse. 

He gestures back at the water and says, “Far be it from me to stop you, little bite.”

You blink once at him before taking another sip, slurping even louder than before, not sure what about him is bringing about this cheeky side of you. Maybe it's just that he’s the first person in a while that doesn’t seem inclined to take advantage of you right up until they turn you out.

After drinking your fill without further commentary, you look up to see he’s gone back below the water’s surface. You don’t see him again while you work on patching your clothes in the light by the cave mouth and taking time to enjoy the lack of back-breaking farm labor in the cool cave. It’s not until you eat supper and need another drink that he resurfaces.

You chew the bread in your mouth as he watches silently, as if he’s weighing you or his next few words with care. You glance down at your basket, at the food you have to last you the next few days and mentally tally up how much longer your supplies will last, even if you manage to gather some berries, if you have to feed him too. It’s hard to gauge height with him in the water, but he’d called you a morsel so you figure his appetite must be large.

“No need to fret, little bite,” he says, voice sounding even wetter than before, which you hadn’t thought possible. “I’ve no interest in pilfering your scraps. There’s food enough for me in the water.”

You blink and then lean forward to ask, “Is there?” This demon has no doubt managed to explore far further than anyone else from town has and you’re fascinated by what he might have seen. “Never seen any fish in the pool. There are only rumors of treasure so deep none can reach it.”

He smirks and says, “No treasure that I’ve seen, but there are some other pools, close but not connected, that I can move between.” He goes on to tell you of his exploration. You mostly let him talk, content to listen to his strange voice and hear tales. You feel the weight of his red, red gaze every time you ask a question. You wonder if he’s mesmerizing you—you’ve heard tell of sirens who can do that—but you don’t think that’s right. And why would he bother, even if he had the strength?

When he’s done talking about the caves and you’re done eating, he swims closer and asks about town. This is more the type of talking you’d expect, though he needn’t try to hypnotize you to get it—if that even was what he was doing. 

It’s strange how comfortable you feel with him. You’ve never even met a demon or a pirate before, but maybe that’s part of it. Maybe it’s that you know how strong he is and so there’s no point in worrying about it. Maybe it's just that it is nice to be seen and not worry about the consequences. He’s so beyond this small town and its small minded people who will remember everything about you that you’d rather they didn’t and only half the things you wish they would.

Maybe it's just that he’s giving you a taste of the world beyond this town that appears more enticing by the day. 

Without the need to watch yourself, leaning against the wall of the cave with your knees drawn up and your arms wrapped around them, you find your eyes constantly tracing his inhuman features. His eyes, the wild tendrils he has in place of hair, each new cluster of red scales that your eyes can find—all captivate you, so unusual and beautiful, but in a way you’ve never seen before. Even so, the more time you spend doing so, the more time you spend listening to him and talking with him, the more you feel a worry grow in the back of your mind. 

Worry for him. 

Because he is not well. The color of his skin looks more and more unnatural, the strange almost puffiness to his form, the way he looks almost squishy concerns you—he looks swollen. Even the way that strange mouth continues to heave in his chest.

“Little bite?” You blink, startled from your thoughts at his breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen. “I’ve a proposition for you.”

“What sort of proposition?” you ask, interested despite yourself. Even though you’d previously liked the lack of expectations, you know as well as anyone, when you need help, politeness or pride has no business being in the picture.

“You were right earlier,” he admits with a disgruntled frown, though you’re fairly certain it's with the situation he finds himself in, not with you. “I was held out of water entirely for too long and this freshwater is barely any better—with its own set of problems. If you can get word to my crew or even just you fetch me something to help me gather enough strength to leave this hole, I’ll reward you handsomely.”

You assume his crew is at the port and a minimum six day commitment to go there and back, regardless of your ability to find them, is a lot. As for supplies… “What sort of something?”

“Salt,” he says. “Sea salt preferably, but any salt will do. Three pounds of it, at least.”

While there’s certainly salt in the village, that would be a lot to go missing at once—for no one would sell you that much and you don’t have the money for it regardless. Trying to take some from everyone would be too risky as well. “I’d have to go to the port for that. I’d need money and food to get me there, in the least,” you point out.

He’s not thrown off by your request and nods. “I’ll tell you where the wreckage from my fight with my kidnappers is. They had a series of wagons and other supplies. Since they were avoiding towns, I bet no one else has found it yet.”

“How do you know I won’t just take that salvage and not the rest of your offer?”

“I don’t,” he says bluntly. “ Beyond that I assure you I can offer far more than such meager scraps, if you do take it.”

“What if I go through all this trouble and get back to find you dead or gone?” you ask, more to hear his response than because you think it’ll change your mind.

“That’s a risk you'll have to take,” he concedes. 

You appreciate how up front he is as you continue to weigh the risks in your mind.

“I don’t work with people I don’t know,” you say, more out of habit than expecting anything in return.

“Name’s Satrasi,” he replies easily. “We’ve already been talking. What more do you want to know?”

As you say his name to yourself, realize you don’t need to know anything more about him, not really. 

You’ve already made up your mind.

So you simply ask, “Where’s the wreck?”

Satrasi smiles.

[Part Four]

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Prompt # 19: Addiction  

@sicktember Alternate prompt #4: Stay

Title: Unexpected Developments Part 2

Fandom: Pride and Prejudice

Find Part 1 under prompt # 8. Mr. Darcy is sick in bed and miserable. Elizabeth is trying to look after him, but his bad mood gets the better of him and tempers flare. Will sweetness or stubbornness win out in the end?

Elizabeth Bennett was the only guest at Netherfield who wasn't in bed with a cold. The virus Jane had caught riding to attend luncheon with Caroline had spread around the whole house, but it seemed Eliza was immune. Mr. Darcy had been the last to fall ill, and Lizzie had discovered him sneezing in a corner over a day ago while she remained perfectly healthy. It was fortunate she had discovered him though, for the servants were rushing hither and yon at the beck and call of their ill master and his sister, and poor Mr. Darcy would have been overlooked completely if Lizzie hadn't taken him under her care. 

Lizzie, for her part, was glad Jane's cold was much improved from the days prior. Since Jane needed little tending now, she had given Lizzie her blessing to give most of her attention to Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy, for his part, was very accustomed to having a houseful of servants to do his bidding, and was little accustomed to being ill, strong and virile as he was. Because of these things, he was not the easiest patient, though he truly tried to make an effort to curb his frustration and not take his misery out on Elizabeth. Her lack of symptoms clearly perturbed him, however.

"How is it you are still in perfect health while I and everyone else are laid up with this beastly chest cold?" he griped that afternoon while Lizzie fussed around, tidying up dishes and rags from his bedside. If Lizzie wasn't accustomed to his voice by now, she would have had trouble understanding him, for his nose was stopped tight with congestion, and his voice raw and weak from coughing, rendering him nigh unintelligible. 

She giggled to herself. "Well you see, I believe I've already had this cold, for in the week prior to Jane's arrival here, my father, some of my other sisters and myself caught cold. We were envious of Jane's good luck in not falling ill at the time, but it seems it caught up with her in the end."

"Indeed," Mr. Darcy muttered sourly with a slushy sniffle.

"Oh don't be cross. It isn't so terrible lounging in bed all day, being waited on hand and foot is it?" 

"Yet when I find myself miserable in body, I find my mood tends to follow," he groused.

"Hmm." Elizabeth moved to his side, caressing his flushed face gently with the pad of her thumb. "It's just as I thought. You're only irritable like this when your fever is up, and indeed you are overwarm again. Jane's fever wasn't nearly so persistent."

"How fortunate for me," he mumbled to himself. Elizabeth tried to ignore his bad temper as she fetched her basin and rag. She wasn't fond of sarcasm, and his attitude was irking her more than she cared to let on. Tenderly as ever though, she began bathing his face and neck to try to bring down his miserable fever.

The cold water on his face made him gasp slightly, which became a cough, and the coughing only seemed to agitate him more. He usually enjoyed his face being bathed, but today he drew away from the rag. 

“Perhaps we should try another method for treating fever, since this does not seem to be effective,” said the sick man. His speech was curt and tense with foul temper.

Elizabeth gave him a long look, trying to keep her own temper under control. “What would you suggest, sir? We have tried willow bark, which made you feel more ill, and you will not have any other poultices,” she said in a measured, warning way.

“There must be something we haven't done yet. I would do anything to rid myself of this beastly cold, that came from *your* sister, I might add! You just said you already had  this cold. Think of something else to try!”

Elizabeth flew to her feet, tossing down the rag. “Perhaps you should go plunge yourself into an ice bath! That will surely help the fever, and I’m sure it will do wonders for your coughing and sneezing as well! But you can draw it yourself, and you can see to your own meals and entertainment too. You clearly feel my efforts are inadequate, so you can tend to yourself from now on. I am through with smoothing your insufferable pride and being a target for your bad mood. Good day, sir!”

With a whirl of skirts, she was out the door without a glance behind her. Elizabeth went straight to her room and lay down in the cool and quiet, for she was exhausted and careworn from nursing for a week straight. She fell asleep immediately and didn’t wake for several hours. 

She felt much refreshed when she did finally emerge. She first went to look in on Jane, who was overall back to normal, but was getting bored sitting around and eager to go home. On questioning the staff, they learned that Caroline had mostly recovered as well. Mr. Bingley was recovering slower, but getting better all the time. The sisters wished him a speedy recovery by way of the servants, for as soon as he was recovered, they would be able to return home.

After visiting with Jane for some time, Elizabeth desired to find a quiet corner and read. To her chagrin, she realized she had left her book in Mr. Darcy’s room. She did not relish seeing him again so soon after they parted so badly, but she had no choice if she wanted her book back. With a sigh, she made her way to his room with hesitant steps. She knocked softly before entering, which felt odd since she had been coming and going freely for two days prior. His hoarse, weak voice bid her come in.

He was in quite a different state than he had been a few hours before. Where he had previously been fitful and agitated, now he seemed weak and lethargic. Even in the dim light she could see how sweat-matted his hair was, and the dark ring on his pillow. He lifted his head up to see who had entered, and his sleepy eyes flickered with confusion upon seeing her. 

“I only came to get my book. I apologize for disturbing you,” she said stiffly, hardly looking at him. She snatched up the volume from the table where it lay and turned to go back out, intending to say nothing else.

“Wait.” 

She paused, and turned slightly, her good breeding winning over. “Yes?”

He sat up a bit straighter, coughing weakly as he did so. “I am deeply sorry for how I behaved earlier. My treatment of you was inexcusable after all you’ve done for me these past days--” Here he had to pause to press his handkerchief to his dripping nose before he could continue. Elizabeth waited silently. “I was a beast and feel very much like a fool. Please forgive me,” he managed, mumbling through the damp fabric. His eyes shone earnestly above the hand holding the linen in place.

Her face softened. “I accept your apology, and thank you for it. No one acts quite themself when they’re ill, so I gladly forgive you. I’m sorry too for my part in all of it.”

They shared a tiny smile as he tended to his nose with a thick, gurgling blow, and she knew she was forgiven also. Immediately the tension between them was cleared.

Now that they had made up though, she was reluctant to leave him alone again, for he looked so weak and forlorn and in need of care. However, she was a woman of her word. She spoke as she moved to the door, putting her hand on the knob. “You must rest, Mr. Darcy, so I'll leave you be. I truly apologize for waking you.”

“Miss Elizabeth?” 

Once more she turned to meet his eyes.

He held out a shaking hand. “Please… stay.”

She slowly returned to his side. “For what purpose, sir?”

“I… I desire your company… and your aid. You are… a far better caregiver than I, and I was a fool to imply otherwise. It… it won't happen again,” he croaked thickly. 

Seeing the effort he was making to be overly polite softened Eliza's heart further. She let him take her hand in his warm grasp, a smile playing around her lips. “If you insist. I will stay.”

He smiled also as he drew her hand toward himself. "Here, let me show you something," he snuffled. He placed her wrist against his neck, just as she had done many times over the past few days. He sighed softly as their skin made contact.

“Your fever has broken,” she murmured happily. “You are cool at last.”

“Yes.”

“How did you do it?” she asked, withdrawing her hand. “Did you plunge yourself into an ice bath after all?”

He stifled a cough before he could speak. “I… tried willow bark again, as you recommended. I felt worse… at first, but I fell asleep to ease the symptoms. When I woke, the fever had left me, and I felt… much clearer in mind. The fever was causing my foul mood, as you insightfully noted.” Yet another long speech, and now his voice was barely audible as he sniffled furiously and trembled with fatigue. 

“Yet you seem somewhat worse for wear, for you’re completely exhausted, poor man.”

“This illness has left me weary to my bones, it is true. Yet I could not have slept soundly tonight knowing I had offended you. It would be an understatement to say I was very glad when you returned, though I did not expect or deserve a second chance.” His eyes were getting heavier by the moment, and he yawned almost before he finished speaking, reclining back against his pillows once more.

Elizabeth brushed the sweaty curls from his forehead as his eyes drifted closed, then let her hand rest on his cheek for a moment, reassuring herself that his fever was truly gone. He lazily covered her hand with his, a content smile flickering across his face. 

She couldn’t help but smile in response, though he couldn’t see it. “Take some rest, Mr. Darcy. All is forgiven, and I will be here when you wake.” She gently tried to pull her hand away from his face. He quickly interlaced his fingers with hers to prevent this.

“You’ll truly stay?” he murmured sleepily, sniffling.

Leaving her hand on his cheek, she perched on the edge of his bed, so close their hips were almost touching. She saw him smile again as she did so. 

“Of course I will,” she murmured back, her eyes never leaving his face as he peacefully drifted to sleep.

[yourdeepestfathoms]

song of storms

Texas decided to flash flood, so my school went into its severe weather drill yesterday. we sat in the hallways in darkness while some kid played his guitar and sang for us. it got me inspired, so here’s some hurt/comfort!

—————————

In Romania, it sure did rain.

A storm so powerful it seemed to have some kind of vendetta against Castle Dimitrescu had blown in around the early afternoon, and by the time dinner was almost ready to be served, the brisk rainfall had warped into a mini hurricane. Raindrops fell like silver bullets and thunder cracked repeatedly, lightning tearing through the sky with white fangs, splitting the horizon in two. Water splattered across the windows like sprays of blood, and Alcina went around making sure they were all secure against the howling wind, seeing as the maids were too useless to do so.

While checking the glass and locks in the western wing, a massive boom shook the entire castle, making even Alcina feel small in comparison. Pulling the drapes shut firmly, there was a second crash of thunder, but this time, she heard something inside of it.

A whimper.

Alcina turned. The room closest to her was the library. It had to have come from in there.

Creeping inside, Alcina first checked the windows, making sure there were no leaks, then looked for the culprit of the cry. It wasn’t very hard when the sky roared like a vicious beast and caused its victim to sob from behind a bookshelf. Peeking around the polished wood, she found the sufferer.

It was her eldest daughter, curled into the fetal position, her knees to her chest, hands clamped over her ears, shaking all over. She flinched when a burst of thunder seemed to shake the entire castle, threatening to bring the ceiling down on top of them, and then let out a choked whimper, digging her claws into her scalp in a vain effort to block out the noise.

“Bela?”

Bela’s head snapped up, and Alcina watched as shame crept into her expression.

“M-Mother--” she stammered. “I-- I--”

Alcina walked over and crouched down next to her. She set a hand on Bela’s shoulder, feeling her shudder beneath her touch. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, Mother,” Bela said, despite her obvious panic attack. “Of course.”

Alcina narrowed her eyes. “Bela, what have I told you about lying to be about your health?”

Bela lowered her head. “I shouldn’t do it…”

“Right. Now, I will ask you again: are you alright?”

Bela shifted, sniffling. “I’m-- I’m just a little freaked out, that’s all. But-- but I’m okay. It isn’t that bad.”

And then, like it was trying to be helpful, thunder crashed, and Bela jolted right into Alcina’s arms with a yelp, practically vibrating with fear. She clung to Alcina’s gown with her claws, her eyes wide and bulging.

“Isn’t that bad, huh?” Alcina said.

“It-- it just startled me!” Bela blustered. She was adamant about saving face, it seemed.

“Uh-huh,” Alcina set a hand on her back, rubbing up and down her spine slowly. “Bela, I thought you said you weren’t scared of storms anymore? Were you lying just to look strong for your younger sisters?” She squinted. “Or did they shame you again? I’ve told those girls that all fears are valid, no matter how irrational--”

“N-no!” Bela cried, clenching fabric between desperate claws. “No! Don’t get mad at them, please! It-- it wasn’t them!”

Alcina looked at her curiously, one eyebrow raised.

Bela lowered her head. “I-- I’m not afraid of storms. Rainstorms, I mean. But the thunder…” She cast a dismayed look at the nearby window and jumped when lightning torched the sky. She huddled closer. “It’s just so loud. And dangerous! What if-- what if there’s a tornado?!”

Alcina bit back a laugh. Her eldest child had the wildest imagination.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Romania doesn’t get tornadoes.”

“It has before!” Bela said, steadfast on her opinion. “And FLOODS! Oh, Mother, what if it floods? What if the castle floods?! Where will we live?! What if-- what if--”

Sensing Bela’s growing panic, Alcina cupped her cheeks and made her look at her. “Breathe, darling. Breathe. You’re starting to spiral.”

“But-- but--”

“Breathe. Here, follow me,” she then inhaled deeply. “Come on, my love. Just like me. In…” She demonstrated again.

Bela shakily inhaled.

“And out…” She exemplified.

Bela shakily exhaled.

They repeated this process three more times before Bela was calmer, though she wouldn’t stop glancing out the window. The rain had gotten so bad that the trees outside weren’t even visible through the pelting sheets of rain. The lightning, however, still made itself known, slashing right through the water walls like the talons of a monster.

“It’s so bad out there,” Bela murmured, her eyes becoming distant as she started wrapping herself up in her own fear again.

“Ah, ah,” Alcina redirected her gaze over to her. “Don’t look at that, darling. Look at me.”

Bela swallowed thickly and obeyed. Her claws dug into Alcina’s arms. “Mother,” she whispered hoarsely. “I’m-- I’m scared.”

Alcina frowned, though she was proud of Bela for openly admitting such a thing. She pulled her in close.

“It’s alright, my darling,” Alcina murmured. “It’s alright. Nothing is going to get you. It’s just a noise.”

“I-I know, but--”

Thunder cracked, and Bela buried her face against Alcina’s chest. Her shaking worsened.

“I hate it, I hate it,” Bela wept.

Alcina moved her hands over Bela’s ears, holding them firmly, hoping to block out the sound for her precious daughter. How could she forget that Bela didn’t like loud noises? Of course this would be like hell for her.

“Shh, shh,” Alcina rocked Bela back and forth in her lap. A faint rumble rippled through the house and she glared at the window, cursing the storm for causing her baby so much distress. “It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay…”

She spent five more minutes on the floor before Bela finally pulled her head back. She didn’t look any less terrified, nor had the storm lessened its brutality, but there was a new light in her eyes. Alcina already knew what she was doing.

“Bela, don’t--”

“I’m sorry, Mother,” Bela said anyway, dipping her head for a moment. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t even pretend, child,” Alcina scolded. “You’re still as white as a ghost. And these shivers… You’re shaking like a newborn goat!”

Bela shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You said it yourself, didn’t you?”

Alcina wrinkled her nose, then sighed. “Alright then. Shall we both go down to the parlor, then? I should check on your sisters.”

Guilt flitted through Bela’s eyes. “Yes. Of course. We must make sure that they aren’t scared.”

That got a small chuckle out of Alcina. “Sure.”

They both stood up, with Alcina helping Bela on her unsteady legs. While walking down the hallway to get to the main parlor, both mother and daughter couldn’t help but gaze out the windows.

The sky was the color of the ocean- dark, wild, and swallowing everything in its wake. The only thing that could possibly rival its impenetrable wall of thick black-blue were the constant cracks of blazing lightning that split the roiling clouds like a hot knife. The storm would be cut in half at the flash of its searing glory, then sewed itself back together like a monstrous, watery wound. The wind was so fierce that it seemed to be sent by an enraged being to punish the castle for some unruly sin. Water rushed down the pathways that Alcina could just barely make out in the garden like baby rivers, threatening to drag anything and anyone in its way down the dirt with it. Raindrops battered the glass and walls and doors, knocking so viciously like an unwanted guest.

An unwanted guest. That was what this damn storm was. And Alcina was at her wit’s end with this elemental stranger.

Especially when one particular crash of thunder knocked the power right out.

Now, a good portion of Castle Dimitrescu used natural lighting to ward away the darkness, sunlight and torches and whatnot, but there were also light fixtures and lamps, which were cut into complete blackness by the outage.

Shadows swept around the corridor like curtains, chased off only by a few flickering torches. At Alcina’s side, there was a sharp cry of terror that pulled at her heart with talons, and she turned to see Bela pressed against the wall, trembling and breathing heavily, her eyes practically bulging right out of her skull.

“Oh, honey,” Alcina said sadly. She reached out, tenderly cupping her daughter’s cheeks. Bela was aware enough to press into her touch like she usually did, which was good. She was too far gone in her panic just yet. “Shh, shh… It’s okay.”

“Th-the lights--” Bela gasped. Her hands were pressed flat against the wall behind her, claws dug against the plaster. She wouldn’t look at Alcina, instead peering around her figure to the storm outside. “It’s-- it’s--”

“Breathe, Bela,” Alcina instructed, seeing her spiral again. It was worrying just how quickly it could happen, coming out of nowhere and consuming her like a colony of angry fire ants. “Breathe. In and out. Just like I taught you.”

“M-Mother--”

“Shh, shh,” Alcina stroked Bela’s cheeks with her thumbs. She moved closer, trying to block out the view of the windows with her form. “Don’t look at that. Look at me. I’m right here and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Bela whimpered and looked up at her. Hot tears slid against Alcina’s fingers and she brushed them away. She smiled when she heard the shallow sound of her daughter’s rhythmic breathing.

“Good girl,” Alcina cooed. “Good, good girl. Just like that.”

Bela closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Alcina’s smile grew a little wider.

“You’re doing so well,” Alcina praised her, knowing it would help her work harder to calm down. Bela was always the easiest to manage out of all of her children, as all it took was a few words of approval for her to do just about anything she wanted. “Such a good job, even when you’re--”

“I’m not--”

“I know, baby,” Alcina said, humoring her. She moved one hand to stroke Bela’s hair. “You’re not scared. Of course you aren’t. I was going to say when you’re in the middle of a blackout.”

Bela opened one eye to stare at her incredulously. Alcina grinned at her. Bela huffed, closed her eye, and then nuzzled into her hand with a faint purr.

They stayed like that for a little longer before Bela finally extracted herself from the wall. The color had yet to return to her face, nor had she stopped shaking, but at least her breathing was back under control.

“Ready?” Alcina asked.

Bela nodded quietly.

With one hand on her daughter’s back, Alcina continued down the hallway with Bela.

Upon entering her favorite parlor, Alcina found her other two daughters already inside. Cassandra was stretched out in front of the fireplace like a lounging cat, her head pillowed by her arms and a look of bliss on her face, while Daniela was bouncing by the window, watching the storm eagerly. The youngest had always been fascinated by the sheer destruction of weather.

“Thirty-four!” Daniela shouted when lightning flashed across the sky.

“That’s great, Dani,” Cassandra said dreamily without lifting her head or even opening her eyes.

“What are you two doing?” Alcina asked in amusement while ducking inside.

“Counting lightning bolts,” Daniela answered.

“Relaxing,” Cassandra said a moment later. “Isn’t this weather amazing?”

Bela winced.

“It certainly is something,” Alcina said, glancing out the window. She gave Bela’s back a gentle rub before walking over to her chair and sitting down. Daniela instantly skittered over to her and pressed her head right into the space between her neck and shoulder with a bright smile. Alcina chuckled, stroking her cheek, earning her blissful purrs.

“Where were you, Bel?” Cassandra asked, rolling over to look at Bela, but not quite getting up. She seemed much too relaxed.

“I-I, umm--”

“She was helping me close the windows,” Alcina answered for her eldest. “After I had to berate her for reading in the dark again.” She gave Bela a playful glare, making Bela smile faintly.

“Ooooh,” Daniela giggled. “You got in troubleeeee!”

Bela rolled her eyes. She finally moved from her rigid position by the door to sit on the floor next to Alcina’s chair. Alcina reached down to set a comforting hand on her head.

It was then that thunder ripped through the castle, causing all of the walls to shudder, and each of Alcina’s girls jolted. Daniela and Cassandra’s heads popped up, while Bela sank her claws in the cracks between the floorboards, trying to keep her breathing under control.

“Goddamn,” Cassandra muttered, sitting up straight. She stretched out the sore spots in her back. “We’re going to drown at this rate.”

Bela’s shoulders lurched. Alcina gave Cassandra a stern glare.

“Oooh, you know what we should do?” Daniela said. She didn’t wait for an answer. “Beli should sing to us!”

“What?” Bela snapped her head to her younger sister faster than the lightning could strike outside.

“Ohh, yeah,” Cassandra nodded.

“What are you talking about?”

Daniela gave her a look. “Don’t be dumb! We all know you like to sing!”

“No, I don’t,” Bela stammered, the tips of her ears turning red.

“Yes, you do,” Cassandra said. “We hear you sing when you fill up the bathtub.”

“You can hear me?!” Bela shrieked.

“Yeah!” Daniela said. “When you hit that vibrato last night… Incredible! Amazing! Showstopping!”

“You did sound very nice,” Alcina nodded.

“MOTHER!!”

Bela buried her face in her hands, which had gone completely red with embarrassment. Alcina chuckled and scratched her scalp.

“You have a wonderful voice, darling,” Alcina said.

“Yeah!” Daniela agreed. “Much better than Cassie. She sounds like a crow with a chicken bone stuck in its throat!”

“At least I don’t belt at the same octave as the torture victims,” Cassandra struck back, and she and Daniela both burst into laughter.

“Now, now, girls,” Alcina said.

“Oh, come on, Mother,” Cassandra said. “Daniela knows I’m just kidding. The victims sound better than she does, and they’re not even trying to sing!”

Daniela shrieked with more laughter. She didn’t seem offended at all. “Oh, I sound bad? You know the noises a donkey makes?”

Cassandra slapped the ground while snorting into her hand.

Alcina rolled her eyes in a good-natured way, then smiled down at Bela. “You would be a step above whatever they can do. But only if you want to.”

Bela looked up at her, her amber-gold eyes glinting in the firelight, then nodded. After a moment of silently encouraging herself, she took a deep breath and began to sing.

It was a beautiful melody in the howling of the storm.

[lorelylantana]

A Blindsided Engagement Chapter 2: Engagement

Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G Overall Rating: G

Ava Vanguard was surprised to see Link return to Hateno a full month ahead of schedule. She was a bit disappointed when she read that her husband and son would assist in clearing the damage of Calamity and it would be some time before she could see her family again, but the relief that they survived was enough to keep her content. News that her family still stood was all she could ask for as a military wife and mother. She was just sitting down to lunch when none other than her son walked through the door. 

Link seemed well, better than she’d ever seen him, in fact. He was dressed smartly in boots she recognized as standard issue for the Royal Guard and the Champion’s tunic he was so fond of. Ava was a bit perplexed at the circlet gleaming on his forehead, but shrugged it off. After slaying Calamity, her son no doubt received gifts of all kinds. Link carried a garment bag in his hands, which he hung on the hook by the door before hugging her tight. 

“Hi, Ma.”

“Let me look at you,” she said, taking his face in her hands. She was glad to see a quiet joy in his eyes that she hadn’t seen since he drew the sword that hung over his shoulder. It made her happy to see bits of the son return to her after he walled himself off. “Tell me everything.”

Link managed to explain the story of Calamity’s downfall between bites of their split lunch, which is how Ava knew he was nervous. Now that Calamity was soundly defeated, there were very few things that Ava could think of that would cause such reticence.

Did her son find a significant other? Had he come to ask for permission to bring someone home?

“You're earlier than expected,” she prompted, gauging her son’s reaction, “Is there anything you wanted to tell me?” 

Link cleared his throat, hand coming up to the back of his head.

“I’m engaged.”

Well, she wasn’t that far off.

Ava gasped, “I had no idea you found someone special! You should have written!”

“It was really sudden,” he admitted, “Honestly, I’m still shocked she said yes.”

Ava laughed, made euphoric by relief. She was aware of and lost countless night’s sleep over the walls her boy had put around himself. Her heart broke to see that forced apathy in his eyes. Yet here he stood, joy written in every line of his face, no sign of restraint in sight.

It was a shame she couldn’t stop to admire it, as not a moment later her son straightened.

“I have to go, the wedding planning’s been keeping me busy. I thought I would invite you to the engagement feast personally, but I have to be getting back,” he nodded toward the garment bag, “I thought you could wear that to the banquet. A tailor in the castle can alter it if it doesn’t fit.”

With a hug and a kiss to his forehead, Link was gone. Vanished out the door, and once again she was alone.

For a moment, a bittersweet moment, she was still. Her little boy had grown up, and she didn’t get to see it. Still, the melancholy thought was drowned out with the elation that came with the knowledge that her son, amid the chaos, found a safe harbor to bare his soul to.

Ava shook her head and moved to the garment bag. She had a nice dress, so she didn’t know why he gave her a new one.

At least, that’s what she thought before she opened the bag.

She had never touched a fabric so fine. Her fingers glided over deep velvet and silk, gazing in awe at the gold detailing along the sleeves. A dress fit for royalty.

Ava smiled to herself. Her son was always such a sweet boy, though perhaps she should scold him. There was no need to spend so much money on her.

It’s not like she could wear such nice clothes very often.

-

Captain James Vanguard wasn’t really surprised when he received an invitation to a banquet and instructions to wear his dress uniform. He’d been expecting it. His son was the Hero of Hyrule, of course he’d be invited to the victory celebration. He was taken a bit off guard when the footman informed him that said celebration would be held that very evening, but James Vanguard was a soldier through and through. It took him a quick thirty minutes to change out of his armor, scrub the day’s grime from his body, and slip into the red and blue suit that had been issued upon his knighthood and he was ready for the grand occasion. 

Despite his quick response time, the party was already in full swing when James entered the Sanctum, lit up by blue flame, giving the ancient hall an ethereal glow that was at once new and old. For a moment he was silent, letting the fact that they were at peace sink in at long last. Perhaps now he could retire without the guilt of letting his country down. Spend his days holding his wife instead of just thinking of her.

The King’s approach snapped him out of his reverie. James bowed, “Your Majesty.”

“Good evening, Captain! Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate the occasion. More than I expected, to be frank.”

The King threw his head back and laughed, “I can imagine. You must be proud of your boy, hm?”

“Of course. He’s exceeded every hope I had for him. That said, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried for him.”

James had lost many nights’ sleep thinking of how his little boy seemed to curl under the weight of his destiny. In his more fanciful thoughts, he’d believe that the burden would be lifted, but his years as a soldier had taught him that it wouldn’t be so simple. 

He knew that the physical scars were the easiest to overcome.

King Rhoam hummed, “I can imagine, but I’m sure our children will pull through. We’ll be there to advise them after all.”

And with that, the King was gone, off to speak with the other guests. James shook his head. This was a happy time, and he was told Ava was here. His energy should be spent towards finding his wife.

Ava looked around, completely unprepared for the grand scale of the celebration before her. She was told her husband would be in attendance as well, so she searched for him, feeling like a fish out of water.

“Mrs. Vanguard, it’s so lovely to finally meet you!” 

Ava turned to see none other than Princess Zelda herself, walking towards her in a fluttering violet gown the exact same shade of the coat her son now wore. The Champions likely coordinated their attire. Ava hurried to curtsy the best she could, but the Princess merely waved a hand.

“Oh there’s no need for that, please. I’ve been eager to finally speak with you. You must be so proud of Link, I certainly am. 

Ava blinked, pleasantly surprised that the Princess held her son in such high regard. Eager as she was to finally discover who her son’s bride was, Ava wasn’t about to refuse a request from the Golden Princess, so she talked for hours about her favorite moments of Link’s childhood.

“You must tell me what Link was like as a child, and spare no details!”

Ava wasn’t about to deny a chance to relay some of her fondest memories, especially at the princess’ request. They talked for what seemed like hours. She wasted no time telling the Princess about Link’s childhood escapades. She was just about to explain how five year old Link rode a bear through the village street in nothing but shorts when Princess Zelda was called away for a speech.

Ava sighed, alone once again. Perhaps she could spot her son in the crowd?

“Ava!”

She turned, a smile growing on her face and her husband’s arms wrapped around her. She kissed him, alight with affection and relief at seeing James and feeling his beating heart against her chest. 

The war really was over.

“I missed you,”

“I missed you too.”

As blissful as the moment was, it was cut short by the King addressing the crowd.

“I hope all of you are enjoying the evening. I can’t think of a better way to mark the end of the Calamity’s reign than with an engagement, and so we gather to-”

Confused, James leaned into his wife’s ear.

“Who’s getting married? Anyone we know?” 

Ava turned to look at him with that expression she wore whenever he said something stupid, which he thought was unwarranted for once given the situation.

“It’s Link, James.”

“What?”

“What did you think this party was for? It’s to celebrate Link’s engagement!”

“His what?”

“Our son is getting married,” Ava said, “Since he’s one of the Champions, the royal family was kind enough to celebrate with him.”

Vanguard was reeling, “Who’s he getting married to?”

Ava tutted, “He didn’t mention her name, I was going to ask him tonight, but Princess Zelda wanted to talk and I’ve been sidetracked all evening. She really is such a lovely girl.”

Before he could ponder this revelation further, King Rhoam commanded the room’s attention.

“I would like to thank you all for celebrating this wonderful occasion with us. After such dark times, it gives me great joy to hold this feast in anticipation of a union I have no doubt has the support of all Hyrule-”

As the king spoke, the Captain scanned the Sanctum, trying to spot his son’s mystery bride. Could it be Mipha, they had spent some time together as children, and he wouldn’t be surprised if it grew to something more. James thought better of it as soon as he spotted the Zora in question. She was beautiful, dressed in her Champion blue, but there was an air of melancholy about her that was impossible to ignore. Captain Vanguard hoped his future daughter in law wouldn’t look so forlorn at the engagement party. 

“-and now, without further ado, I ask that you all join in as we celebrate the upcoming nuptials of my dear daughter, Zelda Lana Hyrule, and her loyal Champion, Link Vanguard!”

Wait a minute.

His son’s name was Link Vanguard.

Captain Vanguard blinked as the room erupted with applause, looking up to the man standing beside the Princess and king.

Well, there he was, standing where the Princess’ fiance was supposed to be with his arm linked with. Before he could process the implications of these observations, a butler came by to guide James and his wife to a private banquet hall. They sat down next to each other and were told to wait. It was strange, to be sitting at a table he’d spent countless hours guarding. James shifted in his seat.

“To clarify,” James began, “Our son’s going to marry Princess Zelda?”

Ava nodded, “I think so,”

Link and Zelda walked smiling through the door, and the room descended into chaos.

[chocoholicannanymous]

If the Spit Hits the Fan (Glee) Pt XVIII

This is the last part of this. Of a story that I was pretty certain I wouldn’t finish and just posted the bit I had in my scraps and snippets tag for a lark. You read that, and you liked it, and your response made me want to try and finish it. And so here we are, ~29k finished fic. 

Thank you for the support.

Follows pt I, pt II, pt III, pt IV, pt V, pt VI, pt VII, pt VIII, pt IX, pt X, pt XI, pt XII, pt XIII, pt XIV, pt XV, pt XVI and pt XVII.

New York is big and loud and filthy and expensive.

Kurt's first apartment had been an absolute rathole. He'd shared it with four others, and his “room” had been a repurposed coatroom. There had been just enough place for a bed and a tiny table instead of a desk. He'd only brought the most necessary in way of clothing, and with the exception of two shirts hanging from a nail in the wall he'd been forced to keep everything in a suitcase under the bed.

He'd moved out after a month, tired of never being able to keep food in the kitchen, weary of the nicks surrounding the lock on his door – he'd replaced the old one day 1, but even the best of locks only went so far – and fed up with having to carry all his valuables with him at all times.

Luckily the Warbler network had activated and Trent's older brother had offered up his guest room (and if that wasn't a sign of wealth, a student in New York with a guest room, then Kurt didn't know what was) for the rest of the year provided Kurt find someplace else to spend the night on those occasions it was needed. During the fall it'd mostly been solved by Sebastian coming to visit and the two sharing a cheap hotel room, and during the fall by Kurt spending the night at Sebastian's apartment. It had been tempting to move in with Sebastian then, but Kurt had resisted and they both agreed they'd become stronger for it.

Living together had been tough, especially since Sebastian had a lot more money available than Kurt. They'd managed to find a balance though and looking back Kurt feels proud of the work they'd put in to make it work. Three years (and counting) together and these days Kurt is willing to proclaim that Sebastian is as much of a perfect boyfriend as it's possible to be.

Yes, New York is still loud and filthy and big, but it's also full of light and laughter and love. Kurt's learned to find his way around both city and school, and he's on track for graduation with excellent prospects. Life is good.

Of course, that kind of means he's overdue for a cold shower and unfortunately it comes as cold and icy as is possible.

“Blaine. I guess I should have known you'd turn up.”

Like a bad penny, Kurt thinks. His ex-boyfriend just smiles wider at the words, clearly not picking up on the undertones.

“Yes! I'll always come back to you, Kurt. We're meant to be – you're my soulmate.”

Kurt shudders. All these years, and he still haven't gotten over his negative reaction to those words.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure you and I have different interpretations of what those things mean. Personally I can't see how someone who walked out of my life without a word years ago could be considered my 'soulmate', but that's me.”

“That's not fair! I never wanted to leave you, but my parents made me.”

Blaine does this thing with his face that resembles what Kurt remembers of Blaine's “I've apologized, sort of, and you should forgive me now” expression and Kurt thinks that if Blaine could see himself he'd never ever do it again. It's not pretty. It kind of looks like he's about to shit his pants, frankly.

“Right. Your parents. And why, exactly, were they so determined to get you out of Lima without saying goodbye?”

Blaine flinches, and Kurt can see the realization hit him. Strange. It's as if he never even thought about the possibility that Kurt would know about the lies Blaine had told. Emotions run across Blaine's eyes and face, one after the other, and Kurt just waits without even trying to figure out what's going through his ex's mind. He's beyond caring.

“Kurt, I... I, I have a confession to make. When I got home that last night, my parents, they were waiting up for me. They made assumptions, and I, I let them.”

Blaine's face twists, and a couple of tears start falling. Kurt would be touched, really he would, except he happens to know that Blaine can cry on command.

“I know I shouldn't have, I know it was wrong, I was just so afraid! I thought they'd throw me out, and so I kept quiet and did what they wanted. I'm so sorry I did that to you.

“I love you, Kurt!”

The thing is, he can remember when those words from Blaine's lips would make him melt. That's no longer true. Now he listens to them like he would a performance, and he finds them lacking. He should have gone for soft instead of intense, a hint of tears maybe, not volume and anger.

This isn't school though, even though it very much is a performance, nor is it worth critiquing. It's not worth anything, really. Kurt sighs a little, just wanting all of it to be over and Blaine to be gone.

“Here's the thing. I understand, I guess. In your shoes I would have been worried to tell my dad the truth too. I think just about every teenager out there would be at least a little afraid to tell their parents they got drunk and stupid.

“But I also think that just about every teenager out there knows that there's some kind of middle-ground between 'I got drunk and tried to rape my boyfriend' and 'my boyfriend drugged me and tried to rape me'. Except apparently you didn't. You just went with what would get you of the hook the fastest and easiest.”

“Hey! That's not fair!”

“Oh, it isn't? You doing what you did is okay, but me calling it what it was is unfair? Now, why am I not the least bit surprised that that's how you feel?

“You know, at first I didn't understand how you could do it. How you could say you loved me and then not just leave me, but let your parents believe that I would do something like that to you. Well, that you could let anyone think I'd do that to anyone.

“But as I said, I understand why you did it.”

A triumphant look flash up in Blaine's eyes. Oh, he's doing a pretty good job at hiding it – much better than he would have been able to as a teenager – but Kurt knows him, and he's looking for it.

“You threw me under the bus because you knew it'd be an easy out. You could have told your parents something else, anything else, but you chose the worst possible lie – one you had to have known would get me in trouble. You did it because it was easy, and it would get you of the hook – maybe even get you some sympathy instead of the punishment you deserved – and you did it because that was all you cared about. You.

“I always knew you were a bit self-involved, but I told myself it was just part of you being a performer. A healthy ego's pretty much a must, and I used to think that was it. Except it turned out you were so focused on you, and your needs and wants, that nothing else mattered. Certainly not me.

“It took me a while to accept, but I know now that regardless of what you said you didn't love me. Not really. You might have thought you did, but Blaine? Love means that the other person's just as important to you as you yourself are. And I never was that to you.”

He ignores Blaine's protests and just continues, projecting his voice to be heard over the barely restrained excuses and lies.

“The truth is that your lack of empathy and care for other people borders on Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and quite frankly I am better off for not having you remain in my life. Just don't expect me to thank you for it though.

“No one else will either. Do you realize how many people you worried with your little disappearing act? There was quite a few at Dalton who were convinced that your parents had shipped you off to conversion camp. They were counting down until your 18th birthday and from what I heard there was even the beginning of a fund to pay your way at Dalton if you escaped and were disowned.”

There's a triumphant gleam in Blaine's eyes. Clearly he's pleased about his friends being so worried about him and so ready to help him out. Kurt just wants to stomp that light out. Violently.

“Then when you didn't resurface after your birthday a few started worrying that your parents had you in a mental hospital, and there was talk of trying to stage some kind of rescue. That only lasted so long, of course.

“You see, somehow it's hard to convince anyone that their friend is practically jailed and in need of a rescue when they're seen out and about clubbing in L.A.. After all, these days everyone carries a phone, so the idea that you were unable to contact someone – anyone – and ask for help went up in flames pretty quick after that.”

Thad had been so angry that he'd made sure every single Dalton student that had ever know Blaine found out, and even the boy's most die-hard supporters had given up then and there.

They'd all understood not wanting to getting into a conflict with your family, especially when said family usually paid for college and any possible trust funds tended to be under the family's control for a while longer. What they hadn't understood was Blaine's total lack of communication. Email telling them that Blaine was okay but under orders not to contact anyone from Ohio would have gone a long way to ease worries, and was, they felt, the very least he owed them.

“Funny thing about you showing up here now? I can't help but remember that you turned 21 a couple of weeks ago. You didn't happen to get access to a trust fund then did you? Not that I actually care, but there are some old bets to settle.”

There wasn't, not really, but enough Warbler had warned Kurt about this very scenario with an added “I bet he shows up afterwards, thinking you'll take him back” for it to not quite be a lie.

Blaine splutters before launching into a long row of “explanations”, one more shitty than the other. It's obvious that he didn't expect Kurt to be angry with him, but instead to be welcomed with open arms. It's even sounding as if Blaine expected Kurt to take him back and just let him slide back into his life as if nothing had happened. Kurt isn't quite sure if Blaine intended for him to move in with Kurt and start a new life in New York, or if the idea was for Kurt to give up everything and follow Blaine back to L.A., but both options are equally ridiculous.

“Stop. Just, stop. I told you, I don't care. If you want to get in touch with any of your old friends from Dalton and McKinley and explain all of it to them, do so. But you don't need to explain anything to me. I don't want to hear it. Your window for explaining yourself to me closed years ago. It closed after you let your parents walk into a police station ready to have me charged with rape.

“Nothing you can say will ever make that okay. Nothing you say can make me forgive you.”

Kurt stops himself and takes a deep breath. There's so much he could say, so many accusations that could be made, so much hatred to be poured out.

Blaine's actions had gotten Kurt into trouble, and could have landed him in jails. They'd been what had stopped Burt Hummel from running from reelection after being asked – while nothing had come from the Andersons' accusations there had still been enough people who had known about it for it to leak and ruin a political career. After all, who cared if it was true when it made for a good weapon? And “local congressman buries son's rape charge” made for a great weapon.

Kurt had been willing to risk it, but his dad hadn't wanted to. Had it leaked the only way to prove Kurt's innocence would have been to make the video of Blaine trying to assault Kurt public. No good parent does that to their kid had been Burt's position, and Kurt had been grateful.

That didn't mean he wasn't aware of exactly how much that had cost not just his dad but the whole state. The man who'd replaced his dad had been the kind of bigot that wasn't good for anyone, not even his followers.

Kurt still blames Blaine for that, and even if he'd been insane enough to consider forgiving everything else he's never forgiving that. The chance of making Blaine understand any of that is minuscule though. The chance of him caring is even less.

There is, simply put, no point in spending even another second on trying to get through to him.

“You're not welcome here. Please leave. Goodbye Blaine.”

Once the door is closed and locked behind Blaine Kurt finally relaxes. He's closing the door on Blaine in more than one way, finally able to truly do that – because regardless of what he's hoped he's always known that one day his former boyfriend would pop up again.

“If he comes back you're filing for a restraining order.”

“He won't come back, Sebastian.”

“You don't know that. He did today, didn't he?”

It's obvious that Sebastian is coming from a place of care and worry, and Kurt feels himself soften. Blaine hasn't just been the monster under Kurt's bed during all of these years.

“Yes, he did, and no, I guess I can't really know. But honey, I really don't think he will. Blaine was reminded today that actions have consequences, and he found out I have the means to ensure said consequences. Coming after me and trying to change my mind is more work than he's ever shown himself willing to put in.

“After all, he's not the kind to stick around when the spit hits the fan.”

Luckily Sebastian is.

~ The end ~

[jewish-space-laser]

Miles & Black Coffee - Part One

“When you’re on a golden sea, You don’t need no memory, Just a place to call your own, As we drift into the zone...” 

-Island in the Sun by Weezer

Hello, and welcome to part one of M&BC! She’s split up into parts, a day late, and a bit rusty... but she’s here! It’ll be my first new piece of writing since I rejoined tumblr, so it’s a bit nerve-wracking. Thank you to Kate @andwhenshesays, Anne @oh-honey-styles, and Anna @for-fucks-sake-h for organizing this entire challenge, you’ve brought so much joy to our little tumblr community. We love you all dearly ♥️ (4.5k words)

xoxoxox Tile

Warnings: mild drinking, mild drug use (just weed)

You and Harry would never be friends. You were up and down, night and day, oil and water. You just didn’t mesh. He was your roommate’s insufferable older brother, and that is all he would ever be. Well, at least that’s what you thought before….

or

the one with campfire conversations, cabin getaways, and enemies that were never really enemies after all.

MONDAY

Pine trees and cornfields flew by in a blur as you stared out the window of your roommate’s minivan. Every once in a while, there’d be a pasture of cows or a horse ranch. It had been exciting at first, but now you were just bored. 

“How much longer?” You called over the music, trying to keep the whine from your voice. It had been hours since you left your apartment this morning, and you’d only stopped once to stretch your legs and take a bathroom break. 

“The GPS says we still have an hour and a half to go,” Callie groaned, stepping a bit harder on the gas pedal.

Normally, you loved road trips, but this particular drive was more cramped than you’d bargained for. There were seven girls packed into the van, and you’d been unfortunate enough to get squished into the backseat with your twin sister and her girlfriend, who hadn’t stopped with the obnoxious PDA since the car got on the freeway. 

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to will away your nauseating carsickness. This week had been marked into your calendar for months, and you’d be damned if you let this god-awful car ride ruin it for you. 

Callie, your college roommate, had a cabin in northern Wisconsin that she’d been raving about for years. She’d been going there with her family for decades, every summer since pre-school, she’d said. According to her, it was a beautiful property, equipped with a private lakeside beach, fire pit, and a full bar. 

It was going to be the perfect getaway. You and Callie had rounded up all of your girlfriends, packed all of the essentials for a spa night, junk food, board games, movies. You’d packed four swimsuits just in case; the weather forecast looked fantastic, high seventies and low eighties all week long. 

It was going to be the perfect vacation. Well, almost perfect. 

Harry was going to be there.

Harry, the constant thorn in your side. Harry, Callie’s older brother. Harry, the one who eats all of your food whenever he visits. Harry, the one who constantly picked fights with you. You and him had never gotten along, not even for a second. 

There wasn’t a single person alive who got on your nerves more than he did. Generally, you got along with most people, but Harry was the exception to the rule. You couldn’t seem to shake him off. 

You weren’t about to let him ruin this trip, though. There were going to be fourteen people staying at the cabin, so it should be a piece of cake to avoid him for a week; there were plenty of other people to interact with. And even if you couldn’t avoid him, you were going to let his inevitable snarky comments roll off of your back. Well, you’d try to, at least.

Perhaps that’s what annoyed you most about him, the reaction you’d have from the smallest fight. With anyone else, it was water under the bridge… with Harry, you thought about it for days afterwards, thinking of better comebacks you should’ve said or ways you could have changed your schedule to steer clear of him altogether. He made your skin prickle with irritation, and turned you into somebody you didn’t like very much. 

It had been months since you’d seen him, not that you’d been keeping track. He typically visits Callie a few times a semester, but his senior year was more intense than he had anticipated, according to his sister. He just couldn’t spare the two hour drive from his university to yours.

But now it was summertime. Gone were the papers, projects, and responsibilities… it was finally time to relax and have fun. You only had one year of college left before graduation, so you and your friends wanted to make the most of it. Harry and his friends had just graduated, so they were at the cabin for their last hurrah before real life kicked in. 

If you were being honest with yourself, you were excited that Harry was bringing some of his frat brothers along. You and your ex had just ended things recently, and you were finally feeling ready to get back into the dating game. Being trapped in a cabin with a handful of cute guys felt like a dream. 

Finally, after what felt like centuries, Callie slowed the car down and turned onto a dirt road. The other girls in the car started desperately peering out the window to get a glimpse of the lake and surrounding forest. 

The moment the cabin came into view, your jaw dropped. You knew Callie’s parents were loaded, but this hardly looked like the rustic getaway you were expecting. There were three buildings, each labelled with a birch bark sign. Two speedboats and a pontoon were docked at the beach, inflatable tubes and paddleboards littered around the sand nearby. 

It wasn’t until Callie parked and shut off the engine that you heard a heavy bass thrum coming from the building marked MAIN CABIN. The other two buildings were labelled GUEST CABIN and SHOWER HOUSE. You were snapped out of it when Olivia and Jane, who had been sitting in the middle bucket seats, swung their sliding doors open and practically fell onto the ground. 

“I don’t think I remember how to walk normally,” Charlie, a girl from your art history class, groaned, “like, we were sitting in that car for so long….”

“Oh, shush,” your sister, Morgan, scoffed, “at least you got to sit up front. I was crammed into the back between these two.”

Both you and her girlfriend, Isobel, huffed in protest, but it wasn’t worth picking a fight over. You’d have plenty of time to bicker later. For now, the fresh air and cool breeze were like heaven after a long road trip.

“The boys beat us here,” Callie remarked.

Sure enough, there were two other cars already parked in the driveway. Back behind the main cabin, a plume of smoke rose into the air. You could hear loud laughter, loud enough to drown out the trap music they had playing. 

“They’ve started a bonfire!” Olivia squealed, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “I’m ready to get partying… it’s four in the afternoon and I’ve spent all day in a car. I need a drink.”

A few others were laughing and nodding in agreement, already making their way towards the boys, but you hung back. You’d party later, but after spending an entire day stuck with six other people, you just wanted to be alone. Plus, you wanted to drink tonight, and you’d never get around to unpacking your bag if you were wasted. 

You managed to dig your duffel bag out from the pile of luggage in the trunk, letting it fall to the ground with a thump. Callie had just been finishing up with a phone call when you looked up. 

“Hey, you’re not joining the others?” She asked. “I was about to head over, they’ve got a fire going. Just had to call my mum to let her know we made it.”

“I’ll join in a bit,” you promised “but I want to unpack my things first… where are we all staying?”

“You’re in the main cabin, I have you sharing a room with Charlie, is that okay?” She questioned. You nodded quickly, relief flooding over you. You liked all of the girls who came on the trip, but Charlie was by far the easiest to get along with. “Harry and I each have our own room in the main cabin, too, so you won’t be alone. Everyone else is in the guest cabin, though.”

“The guest cabin,” you giggled, slinging your bag over your shoulder as Callie lead you into the main building, “this place is swanky, Cal.”

“We host all of our family reunions here,” she shrugged, “we need lots of space. Plus it’s fun for occasions like this… we’re just lucky my dad is letting us use the boats. He treats those things like they’re his own children, only Harry is allowed to drive them this week.”

You made a face at the mention of her brother. “I’ll be staying far away from the boats, then.”

“Oh god,” Callie groaned, “I know you two don’t get along very well, but please try to be civil… we’re here for a whole week, after all.”

“I’m always civil,” you protested innocently, “it’s him you need to worry about.”

“Always civil,” she scoffed, “we both know that’s not true, but I’ll let it slide.”

Okay, so maybe you had a slight temper when it came to Harry, but nine times out of ten, he was the one who started the argument. You were never the type to actively seek out conflict, but Harry seemed to thrive off of it. Whether it was eating all the food from your half of the fridge, throwing his dark blue t-shirt in with your load of whites, or playing his guitar in your living room until three in the morning when you had a test the next day… it felt like he was out to get you. 

And he was never apologetic. Of course not. He probably got off on watching steam blow from your ears. 

You took a deep breath as Callie led you up a wooden staircase, trying not to let yourself get worked up. The cabin was gorgeous from what you’d seen on the main floor. Though you hadn’t lingered, you’d noticed that there was a bookshelf that took up an entire wall, packed to the brim with books with faded spines, vinyl records with worn edges, and an assortment of candles and bookends sprinkled throughout randomly. You couldn’t wait to explore the entire property. 

Photographs lined the walls of every hallway, snapshots of Harry and Callie running around as kids. There was a hilarious picture of a young Harry crying as he held a fishing pole, a bare hook dangling from the line. The Styles family clearly had a great sense of humor. You made a mental note to take a photo of it on your phone later; it would be perfect ammo for the next fight that Harry would inevitably start. 

“This is the bathroom…” she drawled, “no shower though. We all just use the shower house, which isn’t really as bad as it sounds. Just make sure you bring clothes with you, otherwise you’ll have to walk across the lawn in just your towel.”

You grimaced at the thought. As she continued to lead you down the hall, you saw two doors, one with CALLIE’S ROOM written in bright pink bubble letters, and the second with a wooden plaque, the word HARRY written in what was clearly a child’s handwriting. 

“This is technically my parents’ room, but we use it as a guest room if it’s just us kids,” Callie explained, stopping at the last door in the hallway, “they have a king bed, so I figured you and Charlie could just share.”

“That’s fine,” you assured her, not hesitating to drop your heavy duffel onto the side of the bed closest to the window, “this place is awesome, Callie.”

“Right?” She grinned. “I’m stoked for the week, it’s gonna be so fun.”

“You should go down to the bonfire,” you told her, placing a hand on your bag, “I’ll come join as soon as I’m done.”

Luckily, your roommate of two years understood that you needed alone time sometimes, so she left you without protest. 

This was exactly the recharge time that you needed. You were the kind of person who loved being around friends, but there was only so much socializing you could handle before you needed a break to be on your own. Even though you hadn’t spoken much on the ride to the cabin, being squished into a mini-van with six other girls drained your social battery. Giving yourself a moment to breathe and relax was necessary if you were going to rejoin the group.

Pressing the shuffle play button on your spotify, you smiled when the soft melody of your favorite folk song thrummed through your headphones. You swayed from side-to-side as you unzipped your bag, which had been packed to perfection. 

Four swimsuits, a different outfit for each day (plus a few extra items… overpacking is better than underpacking), sunscreen, bug spray, all of your toiletries. It was fun to organize everything into the empty wardrobe by the window; looking at all of your stuff just made you more excited to be here.

Time flew by as you danced around the room. Most of your things were put away, and you’d stashed your empty bag under the bed. The one thing you hadn’t put away yet was your assortment of swimsuits. It had been difficult picking out which ones you wanted to bring, but you’d settled on three bikinis and a one-piece with the sides cut out. You were itching to change out of your leggings and t-shirt; they felt gross against your skin after sitting in the van all day. 

Just as you went to pick up your navy blue sequined bikini top, a hand abruptly clamped down on your shoulder. 

“Holy shit!” You spun around on your heels, hand flying to cover your beating heart. You were less than pleased to find Harry standing there, wide-eyed and trying to mask his amusement by biting down on his lip. 

“Didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” he chuckled, “forgot how jumpy you are.”

“I’m not jumpy,” you frowned, pulling your headphones out of your ears and crossing your arms over your stomach, “what are you doing in here?”

“Nice to see you too,” he scoffed, dimple indenting into his cheek, “I was just using the loo, then I was gonna go back to the party, where we’re having fun. Foreign concept to you, I’m sure.”

You rolled your eyes, turning around so he couldn’t see how hard you were scowling. He always knew just what to say to get your blood boiling.

“Are you implying that I don’t know how to have fun, Harry?” You asked sarcastically. 

“Ah, I knew you were smarter than you looked,” he grinned. “Cute swim top.”

It was only then that you noticed his attire. Well, lack of attire. He was wearing the smallest swimming shorts you’d ever seen, his chest tanned from the sun and completely bare apart from a single cross necklace that hung over his sternum. His hair had grown out since the last time you saw him, and it looked a bit ridiculous with his sunglasses on top of his head. 

He looked good, not that you’d ever admit it. Luckily, you were fantastic at masking your wandering eyes; he had a tendency of walking around your apartment in his boxers during visits, so you’d had plenty of practice.

“Shut up,” you groaned, throwing the bikini top back onto the bed. You’d been planning on wearing that one, but Harry ruined it with his gross comment, just like he ruins most things for you. 

“I’m quite incapable of shutting up,” he mused, throwing himself down onto your side of the bed, “you should know this by now.”

“Trust me,” you were completely unamused, still standing with your arms crossed over your stomach, “I’m well aware.”

“You should come join the party,” he continued speaking as if you hadn’t said anything, seemingly unfazed by how visibly irritated you were, “it’s the first day and you’re already being a buzzkill. Maybe you should try like… try stepping out of your comfort zone, just for the week.”

“Thank you so much for that lovely unsolicited advice,” you said sarcastically, “now if we’re talking about comfort zones, you laying on my bed is definitely out of mine.”

“Please, you love me on your bed,” he smirked, closing his eyes, “this is a dream come true for you.”

“Are you delusional?” You were running out of patience. “Did you hit your head?”

“Why?” He said innocently. “Are you thinking about playing nurse? Because I hate to break your heart, but I’m not into wet blankets. Maybe if you loosened up a bit.”

If he wasn’t gone in thirty seconds, you were going to scream. He seemed to be enjoying himself, arms crossed behind his head with a twinkle in his eye as you stared daggers at him. 

“Are you quite done?” You spit. “I can feel my IQ dropping every time you speak. Plus, I need to change before I come down.”

“Ooh, can I watch?” He waggled his eyebrows. 

That was it. “Harry, get out, okay?”

“Jeez, okay, fine,” he grumbled, rolling clumsily off of the bed, “so bossy, you are.”

You pointed a finger towards the door, leveling him with the steeliest glare you could muster. “Out,” you repeated.

“You should come down sooner rather than later,” he said, completely unbothered, “I’m sure you’ll be much nicer once you’ve had a drink or two.”

He was gone before you could think of a response. The annoyance bubbling inside you was so intense, you felt like you wanted to break something. Instead, you punched your pillow a few times to release some tension, taking a deep breath to compose yourself after.

You wrinkled your nose at the blue bikini top, choosing to wear an orange floral patterned one instead. You’d never give Harry the satisfaction.

~~~

The fire was absolutely roaring. 

It was perfect. The fire pit was lined with wooden logs, the tops shaved off to make benches. There was hardly enough space for all fourteen of you, but you managed to squeeze in as you all roasted corn and hot dogs over the fire. It wasn’t too windy, so you didn’t have to worry about smoke blowing into your eyes, but the bugs were relentless. 

The air around you smelled of smoke, bug spray, and good food. There were a few different conversations happening, and every once in a while, a few people would break out into loud, contagious laughter. 

Harry had tried to talk to you when you came down, but you’d avoided him like the plague. You had absolutely nothing nice to say to him after his snarky comments in your room, and any further interaction with him at this point would just end in disaster. Thankfully, he was quickly distracted by some of his frat brothers, and he hadn’t tried to approach you again all night. 

Now, you were chatting with Olivia and one of the boys, Luke. By the time you’d gone down to the bonfire, everyone was several drinks in. You’d been forced to play catch-up by way of tequila shots, so you had a pleasant buzz running through your veins.

“This is a perfect summer night,” you sighed happily, pulling your skewer from the flames to keep your corn from burning. 

“Almost perfect,” a boy named Archie corrected, “we haven’t been out on the lake yet.”

Harry and three of the other boys had arrived a night early to get the boats ready, and now that Archie mentioned it, the pontoon was looking mighty tempting. The sun hadn’t fully set, but dusk was beginning to settle in, blanketing the forest with pink and orange hues, a gorgeous reflection of the sunset above you. It was the perfect time to go out on the water.

“How do we feel about the pontoon?” You wondered out loud. There was no way you’d all fit, but you could go in groups. 

“It’s too buggy to be on the water,” Callie wrinkled her nose, “I’m getting eaten alive as it is.”

“I’m down, as long as I can smoke a spliff while we’re out there,” James, one of the other boys, shrugged, “obviously I’ll share, I brought tons.”

A few others around the circle chimed in with their interest, and before you knew it, people were standing up to make their way over to the docks. You weren’t the best with names, but much to your relief, you’d introduced yourself to everyone going on the boat. Obviously, you already knew Morgan and Isobel, and were somewhat friendly with Jane, Archie, and James. 

“I’ll come along, too,” a voice behind you yawned. When you turned around, you immediately felt yourself melt. Ryan, a boy you’d had a single class with freshman year, was stretching his arms out as he stood up, and he was looking directly at you with a flirtatious smile. 

You’d had a major crush on him for the entirety of your class together, but you’d been too shy to say anything to him. He was a whole year older, after all, and that had been intimidating when you were eighteen. 

You returned his smile, biting down on your bottom lip shyly. 

“I guess I’m going too, then,” Harry sighed, shoving the last of his hot dog into his mouth before dusting his hands off. 

Immediately, your face dropped. Harry snorted when he saw your expression, digging around the pocket in his swimsuit to retrieve a key. 

“I’m the only one allowed to drive the boats, remember? Dad made me promise.” 

Your shoulders slumped. You’d completely forgotten that Callie had mentioned it to you earlier. You weren’t about to turn down a sunset boat ride though, especially now that Ryan was coming along as well. 

Everyone scarfed down the rest of their food in a rush as Harry went over to untie the boat and make sure it was good to go. You watched as he leaned far over the edge of the dock, so far that nearly fell face-first into the water before righting himself and trying again.. 

“Hey,” Ryan had walked next to you, following your line of sight, “he’s gonna fall in, isn’t he?”

“I hope so,” you giggled.

“You were in my History 204 class, weren’t you? Sophomore year?” He asked.

Your entire body flushed. You didn’t think he’d noticed you at all, let alone enough to remember you years later. Having Ryan up at the cabin, talking to you, felt like a dream come true.

“I was a freshman, but yeah, I think so,” you nodded nonchalantly, “I hated that professor.”

“Oh god, same!” He laughed, shaking his head, “such a drag, just constant pop quizzes!”

“Ugh, yes!” You turned your body towards him fully. “And that midterm assignment….”

“Don’t even get me started,” Ryan pretended to shiver in fear. 

You laughed loudly, and from the corner of your eye you saw Harry turn to glance in your direction. Upon a closer look, he’d managed to wrangle the boat so it was right up against the dock. 

“All aboard!” He shouted.

You rolled your eyes at his ridiculous antics. He always thought he was so funny, especially when you were the butt of his jokes. You hoped he’d be too busy driving to bother you. 

Luckily, Ryan seemed keen to stay by your side, even helping you step into the boat by taking your hand to keep you balanced, so Harry didn’t have much of a chance to say anything. By the time the boat was moving, everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor, clipping in the life jackets that Callie had forced us all to wear. 

As soon as the wind blew through your hair, you tilted your head up and closed your eyes. Lakes didn’t smell great, but you’d always loved it. It was classic, nostalgic. You’d spent every summer of your life swimming in Midwest lakes, so it felt just like summer.

James was true to his word, and pulled out four fatly rolled joints, passing them around with a lighter. You didn’t do this often, but it felt like the perfect moment. The sun was disappearing fast, and soon enough you’d be able to see the stars.

At some point, Harry slowed the engine down to a gentle hum when the boat reached the middle of the lake, getting a couple of the others to help him throw the anchor over the edge. Afterwards, he moved back over to the driving console and fiddled with a few buttons until quiet, staticky music sounded out. He then sat down across the circle from you, immediately accepting one of the joints from Archie. 

You stood up on your knees, and looked around. Water lapped lightly against the sides of the boat, so it took you a moment to find your equilibrium. The silhouette of the tall pines surrounding the lake were awe-striking. 

Nobody wanted to break the silence, so you didn’t. The weed was starting to take effect, making your body feel heavy and your head feel light. You started to lay down, unclipping your life jacket to use as a pillow. Slowly, your friends followed your lead, the sounds of shuffling and buckles popping open momentarily interrupting the tranquil silence. 

You watched the sky change from pink to a deep blue, only turning your head away when the first stars became visible. Morgan was laying next to you, staring straight up at the sky. To anyone else, she looked like she was lost in thought, but you knew her better than that. There was a slight frown, watery eyes, a little crinkle across her forehead... she was worried about something. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked, trailing a hand down her arm. She let out a long exhale. 

“This is gonna sound so soppy,” Morgan sighed, “but I can’t stop thinking about like… how different I would be if I could just, change things about myself.”

“I like you the way you are,” Isobel frowned, sitting up slightly to look at her, “plus, you can change things about yourself. People do it all the time. New hairstyles, piercings, clothes. You could completely rebrand yourself anytime you want.”

“She’s not talking about her appearance,” you said softly, squeezing Morgan’s hand, “she means… like, changing who you are, at your very core. Things you can’t help.”

“I get that,” Ryan chimed in, “I think about that, too. If I could change one thing about myself, I would make myself more motivated. My life would be so different if I could just… alter one tiny thing.”

“Exactly!” Morgan nodded. “I would… make myself less impulsive, I think. I have so many regrets, and it’s all because I never properly think before I act. I’d be so much better off if I could just learn to be more careful.”

“I like how spontaneous you are,” Isobel hummed, “but I think I know what you mean. If I could change anything about myself, I’d make myself less anxious. Anxiety has always held me back so much… I mean, fuck… I haven’t even come out to my family yet, even though I know they’d support me. I’d be so much happier if I could appreciate the good things in life, rather than stress about how to keep them.”

“I’m with Isobel,” Harry spoke. He’d just taken a rather large pull from the joint, so his voice came out rougher than gravel. “Anxiety is such a bitch, and it’s like, out of our control. It’s kept me from talking about my feelings so many times, and I feel like I’ve missed out on some really good friendships because of it.”

Despite the heaviness of the conversation, you felt happier than you had in a long time. You’d smoked just enough to feel numb, and the waves were rocking against the boat so gently that it felt like you were floating. You took a deep breath in through your nose, feeling the crisp forest air fill your lungs before exhaling. The stars were shining in the cloudless sky, crickets were chirping along the shore, and soft music was filtering through the cheap boat stereo. It was peaceful, listening to your friends pour their hearts out. 

Each person took a turn sharing what they would change about themselves. Archie would get rid of his bad temper, James would become a better listener, and Jane would be less self-conscious. 

“What would you change?” Morgan turned to look at you. 

You and your twin sister were very different people. So different, in fact, that you sometimes forgot that you were identical. In moments like this, when her eyes were watery and hooded, voice thick with sadness and hope, that you were reminded of how similar you could be. 

“If I could change anything about myself….” you mused, closing your eyes. “I think I would… let things go.”

“Let things go?” Archie echoed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “like, let go of the past. Whenever something bad happens to me, I let it really get to me. Negative memories and feelings just… constantly eat away at me. I wish I could just wake up in the morning and think about the future… because thinking about the past is exhausting.”

Nobody spoke after your confession. Nobody tried to assure anyone that they would be okay, or convince anyone that they didn’t need to change. There was something comforting about lying in a circle with your friends, your sister… even Harry, because you were all flawed, and none of you knew what the future would bring. You all found solace in the fact that you were here, right now, laying in a circle on a boat, with an old jazz song ringing through the air.

And who knows… maybe someday, you’ll all find a way to change the parts of yourselves that bother you. Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate them. Maybe your flaws will end up helping you in the long run. 

But for now, none of you were alone. And that was enough.

~~~

Thank you for reading! I love getting feedback, so let me know what you thought! xoxoxoxoxoooooxxxxxxooooooxxxoooo Tile

[ibijau]

Oops, I’m continuing the Nomad Nie AU / also on AO3

warning for: racism, some mentions of rape toward the end (nothing happens, but a character is scared of it)

I've also made some slight updates to the first chapter on AO3 (mostly by changing Mingjue's title from king to khan as that might be more accurate) since I didn't really have a plot in mind when I wrote it

I am trying to research this as well as I can, and basing the Nie on the Mongols, mostly because that's just what's easiest to find information for. I am not aiming for a realistic depiction of anything, but I also more than welcome criticism and advice on how I'm depicting those cultures, and later on how I touch upon certain medical stuff that play a role in the plot.

With a spring to his step, Huaisang led Lan Xichen toward one of the many tents in this odd city. It was a rather smaller one than most, and not quite as well kept as others. The inside of it was sparsely decorated, and a young man sat in the middle, by the fire, a book in hand. Everything about that man, from his hair to his clothes, set him apart from everyone Lan Xichen had seen so far. His heart jumped in his chest when he realised that this new stranger appeared to be Han, just like him.

“Menyao!” Huaisang exclaimed when the young man looked their way. “This Ziqen. Tomorrow, I wedding Ziqen. You help?”

The young man’s eyes opened wide at the news, and he gaped at Lan Xichen. He quickly regained control of himself though, and started chatting in the Nie’s language with great fluency, asking Huaisang for details about the situation no doubt. He did not look particularly happy with what he was told, but in the end he still bowed politely to the Khan’s brother. Huaisang seemed satisfied with this, and turned again to Lan Xichen.

“Menyao help Ziqen,” he announced. “I see Ziqen tomorrow. Ziqen sleep, eat. Tomorrow, big day!”

Unsure what to say, Lan Xichen simply bowed to his future husband who promptly left the tent.

“So what is actually your name?” Menyao asked, closing his book and gesturing for Lan Xichen to sit. “His accent is so atrocious… I’m Meng Yao, by the way. Last name Meng, first name Yao, though they don’t seem to quite understand that here.”

Lan Xichen quickly sat down, glad for a chance to rest, and introduced himself.

“Are you… are you also married to someone here?” he asked.

“Nothing so glamorous,” Meng Yao sighed, grabbing a pot behind him and pouring some liquid into a bowl which he handed to Lan Xichen. “My father is a merchant, and he wanted to see if a more direct route could be set up to trade with the west. We were hoping to cross the Nie’s territory unnoticed, but those barbarians have ways of knowing what goes on in their land, and so we were ambushed. My father was forced to give me up as a servant just so our group could run with their lives.”

Lan Xichen’s heart went to Meng Yao, whose voice fraught with pain contrasted with the dignified way he held himself. Their stories were eerily similar, which made Lan Xichen realise that the Nie might have had a habit of doing such things. After some consideration, he decided that he wouldn’t mention that his family had managed to get a rather decent deal out of selling him, fearing it would only make Meng Yao’s pain worse.

“How long have you been here?”

“Two years, nearly three now,” Meng Yao claimed. “They treat me as well as they can, I suppose, but of course they’re only barbarians.” He paused, hesitating. “I am sorry that you find yourself in such a terrible situation, Lan gongzi. But if I may express a selfish thought, I am glad to finally have someone to talk to. It has been so lonely here. Huaisang is the only person to really bother with me these days, and sometimes that’s worse than being alone.”

Lan Xichen frowned upon hearing that, and took a sip from the bowl Meng Yao had given him. The taste felt rather odd, a little sour and sparkling against his tongue. After such an exhausting day he’d rather have had some tea, but he figured that would be out of the question… and of course he couldn’t express such a desire in front of Meng Yao, who must have missed decent drinks even more than him.

“Is this Huaisang a bad person then?” he asked, trying not to show too much fear.

Meng Yao took a moment to consider the question.

“I wouldn’t call him bad as such, no. But he’s not much good either,” Meng Yao explained with a disdainful grimace. “I’m supposed to teach him our language, but you see how dreadful he is at it. He’s very spoiled, so he doesn’t know how to put effort into anything. His brother allows him to do whatever he pleases, and makes sure there’s never any consequences. As a result, Huaisang is very lazy, not particularly smart, and a rather pathetic man for a nomad. He is a good horse rider like they all are, but I’ve never seen him touch a bow or a blade. He never wrestles with other men his age, never does any physical work if he can avoid it… to be honest, aside from caring for his own horse, he just doesn’t do much of anything at all, and so he is not particularly well liked. Those closest to his brother pretend to respect him, but only because they fear Khan Mingjue’s wrath… and that’s a sensible fear to have.”

As he said that, Meng Yao’s voice dropped nearly to a whisper, and he glanced nervously toward the door, as if fearful that the Khan might hear him. Lan Xichen shivered. He did not know too much about the Nie, but of course the leader of a tribe of nomad could only be a terrifying man.

“And what is the Khan like, then?”

Again, Meng Yao glanced at the door.

“He is a cruel man,” he answered, keeping his voice as low as he could. “Never get on his bad side, as he is very unforgiving. He has a volatile temper, always ready to explode, and he is a warmongering tyrant who looks for every excuse to conquer and slaughter the Wen people who live South from his lands. He pretends that they cursed his father and caused him to die before his time, and among those barbarians that’s a very serious accusation.”

Meng Yao paused to look once more at the door, and motioned for Lan Xichen to lean closer.

“I cannot be sure,” he whispered, “but I believe that he keeps his brother alive only so he can offer him as a human sacrifice the day he finally goes to war against his enemies. It’s the only thing that makes sense to me.”

Lan Xichen gasped and pressed a hand against his mouth, horrified by the idea. He did not have any particular sympathy for the young man he was forced to marry, but such a fate really seemed too cruel for anyone.

“Hopefully, it won’t happen for a while,” Meng Yao said. “Khan Mingjue is still recruiting families for his war. And I hope it won’t affect you, when the day comes. It probably won’t. Huaisang seems delighted to marry you right now, but he’s like that about everything new, and he’ll soon jump to some other source of amusement. And then, you’ll be quite safe from most of their affairs. For now though, how about I tell you how weddings seem to be conducted in these parts?”

His chest tight with fear over his future, Lan Xichen nodded quickly.

If he had realised just how dreadful these people were, he wouldn’t have agreed so easily to this sacrifice, not even to help his family.

-

Lan Xichen went through his wedding in a bit of a daze. He had hardly slept by the time Khan Mingjue came into Meng Yao’s little tent to give Lan Xichen the clothes he’d wear for the ceremony. He had stayed up late to listen to Meng Yao’s explanations about the lives of the Nie tribe, and still there was more information to listen to as he got dressed.

In truth, even Meng Yao didn’t really know how the wedding would be conducted, since it was a rather unusual one. Normally there would have been long back and forth between the two families, as well as exchanges of gifts, and they would have been gifted a ger to live in as well as animals… but of course with this being a sudden whim of the Khan’s capricious brother, no such thing was possible, and Meng Yao doubted there would be more than a banquet to celebrate.

That assertion turned out to be mostly right. Since there was no new ger for them to move into, some of the ceremonies were cut short, and everything happened inside Khan Mingjue’s ger. There were a great number of guests present, though most did not seem particularly happy to be there, and Lan Xichen caught a few unimpressed looks thrown toward him and his new husband. As Meng Yao had told him, Huaisang did not seem particularly popular… though it might also just be that nobody was happy to need to make gifts worthy of a relative of the Khan on such a short delay, and when they were most of them away from home (the only reason so many people were there, Meng Yao had explained, was because they’d all gathered for a religious festival).

To make matters worse, even the feast itself was hard to enjoy for Lan Xichen. His family had always favoured a vegetarian diet when possible, but every dish now presented to him contained either meat or milk, and cooked in a manner entirely foreign to him. He tried at first to avoid eating at all, but Huaisang was paying close attention to him.

“Husband eat,” he insisted, carefully selecting pieces of meat for Lan Xichen. “Good!”

Lan Xichen thought of refusing, but when he glanced toward Meng Yao, the young man threw him a terrified look and silently encouraged him to eat, discreetly gesturing toward Khan Mingjue. His new brother-in-law seemed as angry at his refusal to eat as Huaisang was concerned. Not wanting to start his new life on a bad impression, Lan Xichen made an effort and chewed down some of the meat offered to him. The taste was rather strong, and the texture bothered him a little, but it wasn’t unpleasant as such.

“Good,” he said in what he hoped to be their language.

Khan Mingjue huffed and looked away, unimpressed, while Huaisang grinned brightly.

“Good husband, good… good head?” Huaisang tried. “I learn, you learn. Good?”

“Good,” Lan Xichen agreed, hoping he would show more skill for language than his husband apparently had.

Delighted by that answer, Huaisang immediately started trying to teach Lan Xichen words for everything around them in between feeding him more meat and more of that milky drink people there seemed to like, and to which Lan Xichen was starting to warm up already. 

It really was a lot happening all at once, especially when the people assembled started singing and dancing, the noise adding to Lan Xichen’s stress and exhaustion. Thankfully Huaisang, in spite of drinking and partying as joyfully as everyone else, noticed that his husband was getting tired. He turned to say a few words to his brother, apparently trying to be subtle, but others still heard and started shouting at the couple. Whatever they were saying, it provoked great hilarity, even in Huaisang whose face was turning quite red. The only person not to be amused was Meng Yao who, standing away from the other guests, had his lips pinched in disapproval.

Just as Lan Xichen was starting to realise what sort of jokes might be made at his expense at that moment, Huaisang took his hand and led him away.

“Zonghui give his ger tonight,” Huaisang explained. “After, brother’s ger. Good?”

“I don’t mind,” Lan Xichen replied tiredly.

Meng Yao had implied that it really was odd for newlyweds to not have their own home, and clearly Huaisang looked a little sorry that he could not provide in that respect. Lan Xichen would have preferred to have some distance from the terrifying Khan Mingjue, but he’d deal with this. He had little choice.

He had more pressing things to worry about anyway. Namely, the fact that he was now married to this stranger, and about to spend the night with him.

Lan Xichen knew how sex went between a man and woman of course. And even when it came to the things two men could do together, he wasn’t entirely ignorant either, having come across some books and prints before. He didn’t have any practical experience aside from a few stolen kisses here and there, for which he blamed his too severe uncle, but he knew how these things went, and he found the general concept quite attractive… but not if it had to happen like this.

With ever growing anxiety, Lan Xichen allowed his husband to lead him into an empty ger, and watched him prepare a place to sleep, laying down pelts on the floor for them to lay on. In spite of Huaisang’s wordless encouragement, Lan Xichen refused to remove his clothes before laying on that bed, hoping to send a signal that he wasn’t interested in anything happening between them. Huaisang, on the other hand, dressed down nearly entirely, keeping only an undershirt before sitting down next to Lan Xichen. He still seemed in an excellent mood, and looked down at his new husband as if he were a particularly exquisite piece of art, or perhaps a sweet to be devoured. Lan Xichen shivered under such attention.

Huaisang, after a short while, grew tired of merely looking. He leant over his husband, placing his hands on either side of Lan Xichen’s head and moving as if to kiss him. Panicking, Lan Xichen pushed him away with enough strength that Huaisang fell to the side with a surprised cry.

There was no mistaking the disappointment on Huaisang’s face when he sat up, carefully rubbing the side of his body that had hit the floor as if this had hurt him. Lan Xichen stared at him, terrified that his husband would get angry, or try to take by force what he thought to be his right. He’d heard stories about what happened to those enslaved after barbarian raids, and Meng Yao had confirmed some of that to be true… but Huaisang just shrugged.

“Husband tired,” he said with an understanding nod. “Sleep, good?”

Without waiting for an answer, Huaisang laid down on the pelts, grabbing some furs to cover the both of them, then shifted and turned his back to Lan Xichen, who promptly turned the other way.

Although Lan Xichen was sure he’d be too nervous to ever fall asleep after such an incident, in the end the exhaustion was too strong and he quickly passed out, hoping nothing would happen to him while he was unconscious.

[thecassadilla]

Change of Pace - Chapter 1

Pairing: Kristanna

Chapter 1 on AO3

Word Count: 3,292

Summary: With her sister’s blessing, Anna takes a step back from her royal duties and finds herself working for a ski resort nestled in the mountains. A chance encounter with the resort’s maintenance technician leads them down an unexpected path, as they must work together to plan the resort’s annual ball - and maybe fall in love in the process.

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! I’m trying something new here - I’m not really into writing multi-chap fics because I feel like my brain betrays me and I put it to the side and never look back. However, I’ve already managed to plan out the first 20ish chapters (and have written a ton of it), so I’m giving it a shot. This idea came to me back in September, when I was flipping through the television channels, and came across the summary for a Hallmark movie. Just from the description, I decided I wanted to write a fic based off of it. I did watch the first half of the movie and got some inspiration from that, too, though the ideas are mostly original. (If anyone’s interested the movie is called A Winter Princess). Rated T for the foreseeable future, but will eventually be M-rated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

In the two months since she had arrived at Valley Ski Resort, Princess Anna of Arendelle hadn’t stopped smiling. She greeted each day with a smile, worked with a smile, and whenever she thought about how thrilled she was to be experiencing life away from the castle and Arendelle, she smiled.

If she were being honest, she hadn’t stopped smiling since her older sister - and Queen of Arendelle - had approved her proposal of a sabbatical. She remembered the day she’d asked very clearly, as she was certain that her sister would reject her idea and she’d be stuck in Arendelle for the foreseeable future.  

“Soooo,” she’d started.

“Yes?” Elsa had raised a questioning eyebrow. 

“How would you say your mood is today?”

“My mood?” 

“There’s something that I want to ask you, and I’m not sure how you’re going to react, so I’m trying to gauge if now is a good time or a bad time.”

Elsa had chuckled. “Anna, you can ask me whatever it is that you have to ask me.”

“Okay,” she’d breathed. “I wanted to know how you’d feel if I...went away for a while.”

“Went away? To where?”

“I was thinking of taking a sabbatical and finding work in another country - temporarily, of course. Just a few months where I could do something other than mope around the castle. I think it would be good to have some work experience under my belt, especially because your coronation is next year. I want to be able to do more than what I’ve been doing.”

Elsa had nodded. “I see. That makes...sense. Did you have something specific in mind?”

“Not yet,” she’d confessed. “I wanted to know what you thought about it before I committed to anything specific and got my hopes up.”

“There are a lot of factors to take into consideration. Your identity and your security are the first things that come to mind. But...as long as you’re back before the coronation, I really don’t see the harm in you -”

Before she could finish her sentence, Anna was throwing her arms around her sisters neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you! You’re the best big sister, ever!”

It was some of the best news she’d received in her life. Not that her life had been dismal prior to her arrival at Valley Ski Resort, but it was rather...boring. Not boring in the traditional sense, as she had plenty of things to do. Horseback riding in the gardens, reading every romance book she could get her hands on in the library, and practicing piano at twilight. Regardless, her days felt empty, as if something was missing. She selfishly wished for more - travel, new friends, love. 

So with her sister’s approval, the arrangements were made. With the exception of the general manager of the resort, her colleagues would remain unaware of her royal status, and would refer to her by her first name rather than by any titles or formalities. She’d stay on site, in one of the luxury “cabins” that the hotel rented to guests who wanted a more home-y experience, and set off to Valley in September, vastly unprepared for a life so different from the one she was accustomed to, but ready for anything. She had to learn how to do everything on her own; from cooking to cleaning to laundry, but she adapted fairly quickly to her new, “normal” routine and fell in love with her job as the assistant event planner for the resort. Two months in, and she was happier than she’d ever been in her entire life.

This particular morning had started the same as any other. In fact, when she woke up, she had a great feeling about how the day would go. She woke up feeling well rested before her alarm went off, had extra time to put on a little makeup, and was able to stop by the café on the first floor before making it to work with plenty of time to spare.

“Good morning,” she called, upon entering her office. She dropped her bag on the floor before shimmying out of her coat and hanging it on the rack by the door.

“Hey! Morning, Anna,” Holly, the administrative assistant, called back. 

She glanced around and noticed that Holly was the only person there, which was rather unusual. Her boss always made it in before she did. “Jenny’s not here yet?”

“No,” Holly answered, running a hand through her chin length, raven-colored hair. “And it’s not like her to be late.”

She scooped her purse off the floor and walked over to her desk. “I know. Maybe she called out today?”

“She hasn’t been answering my calls or texts and I didn’t get an email from her.” 

“Do you think Bonnie will know?”

“I’m sure she does, but she has more important things to worry about than one person calling out sick.”

“I’ll try texting her, too. I hope everything’s okay.”

“In the meantime,” Holly started, opening the top drawer of her desk and pulling out a box, “Look at what came in today!”

“Are those the invitations for the ball?”

“They are! Come look!”

Though she’d just sat down, she immediately hopped back up and ran over to Holly’s desk. She peered over her shoulder, at the silver and royal blue invitations. “Wow, those are gorgeous.”

“‘Valley Ski Resort cordially invites you to the twenty-fourth annual ball. Join us on Saturday, February sixth at seven in the evening for dinner, drinks, and dancing,’” Holly read. “Followed by the address to the hotel, of course, your extension and email for the RSVP, and the prices per head.”

“They’re perfect.”

“All you have to do now is finalize the guest list, print the name and address stickers, stick ‘em on and drop ‘em in the mailbox.”

“That’s it?” Anna teased.

“At least you don’t have to worry about hand-writing every name and address on five hundred envelopes.”

“It would give me an excuse to practice my penmanship,” Anna laughed. “My teachers always said my handwriting could go from neat to illegible in the same paper.”

“I know for a fact that your hand will be tired after sticking that many stickers to the envelopes, so don’t get too far ahead of yourself. At least the return address and stamp are already on there.”

“Less work for me,” Anna smiled, picking up the box and carrying it to her desk. “And I already have my work cut out for me.”

“Jenny is keeping you on your toes, huh?”

She sat down again, finally kicking off her snow boots and switching them for the flats she kept in her bag. “Just a little. I enjoy it though. I like keeping busy.”

“I know you haven’t been here very long, but you’re doing great,” Holly said. “Way better than any other assistant Jenny’s ever had.”

“Thank you, Holly. I really appreciate that.”

They kept up the small talk as they began their work for the day. As usual, Anna had plenty of emails to respond to and the talking helped to pass the time. A few hours into the day, the office door opened and they both turned around to see if Jenny had finally arrived for her shift. Instead, it was Bonnie, the general manager of the resort. “Good morning, ladies.”

“Good morning, Bonnie,” they responded in unison.

“How’s the planning for the ball coming along?”

“Excellent,” Anna spoke up. “We received the invitations this morning. The guest list will be finalized by early next week and the invitations will be sent out by the end of next week.”

“That’s wonderful,” Bonnie smiled. “Now, I’m afraid that I have good news and bad news for you both.”

“Oh,” Holly murmured, exchanging a worrisome look with Anna.

“I’m afraid that Jenny has resigned, effective immediately,” Bonnie stated matter-of-factly. “That’s part of the bad news. The good news is for Anna - congratulations, you’ve been promoted!”

Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “I have?” 

“Of course! Sure, you’ve only been here for two months, but you’ve been shadowing Jenny the entire time, you show excellent potential, you’ve never been late...I can go on and on, but it was one of the easiest hiring decisions that I’ve had to make in my entire career.”

Anna couldn’t help but wonder if she was being promoted out of sheer desperation, or if it was because Bonnie was the only person aware of her royal status and was trying to kiss up to her. “Thank you, Bonnie. I hope that I can exceed your expectations.”

“I don’t think you’ll have any trouble fitting into your new role. Now for the second part of the bad news - unfortunately, there won’t be enough time to hire a new event planning assistant in time for all of the upcoming events, between the Christmas season starting in three weeks, and then the ball the first week of February. I’m so sorry.”

Anna nodded slowly, trying to process everything that Bonnie had just told her. Not only had she been promoted, but now she’d have to take on the workload of two people by herself. “I’ll do my best.”

“That’s all I ask,” she remarked. “I know that you’re going to do great. Enjoy the rest of your day, ladies.”

Bonnie swiftly exited the office, and as soon as she was gone, Anna turned to face Holly. “What am I going to do?”

Holly stared for a moment, her mouth agape. “I...don’t know. This has never happened before.”

“I don’t think that I can do this alone! How am I supposed to do this alone?”

“Anna, I genuinely don’t know. I’m as stunned as you are. I mean, I’ll do my best to help you in any way that I can, but I only took this job because it came with a set, part-time schedule. I have a baby at home - I can’t be here for all of the events on the calendar.”

“Of course not,” Anna agreed. “That’s not fair to you or your husband or son.”

“Yeah, but this situation isn’t fair to you. Bonnie has plenty of time to find a new assistant, I bet she’s just being lazy.”

“I wonder why Jenny quit so abruptly.”

“I know! Jenny isn’t the type of person to do anything abruptly. I hope that she’s not sick or something.”

A wave of anxiety rolled through Anna’s body and she buried her face in her hands. “What am I gonna do?”

“Oh sweetie,” Holly cooed. “It’ll be alright. You’ll figure it out, I promise.”

Anna exhaled heavily and nodded. 

“How about we go over everything we have to do for the rest of the season?” Holly suggested. “I know Jenny normally goes over the events on a week-by-week basis, but it may make you feel better to recall everything you’re dealing with in advance. Kind of like a quiz.”

“Okay,” she agreed. She got up from her desk and paced back and forth across the office; she often did her best thinking as she paced. The office was modest; the three desks were all lined up against the right wall, and the other walls were lined with filing cabinets, a bulletin board, and plants. Lots and lots of plants. Luckily, the plants were Holly’s responsibility, so Anna didn’t have to worry about keeping them alive - something she was sure that she’d fail at.

“So the cookie decorating is on the twenty-fourth. Do you remember the game plan for that?”

“Yes. We...I have to pick up the cookies at the bakery, bring them to the conference room - which I’ll try to set up in advance - and then sell the cookies until the event is over.”

“Do you remember how much each cookie costs?”

“Three dollars.”

Deciding to distract herself as she and Holly talked, she started to reorganize the bulletin board. A couple of the fliers were outdated, and they could use the extra room for the upcoming events.

“Take down the pictures with Jenny in them while you’re at it,” Holly replied. “Alright, what’s next?”

She began to collect the many photos of Jenny that had been posted onto the board. A few of them included her, from the events that they had worked on together. It was almost bittersweet to take them down; Jenny was her boss and mentor. They spent forty hours a week together for two months straight, and Jenny had taught her everything that she knew. “Um, that’s the last event that this office has planned for the month and December is maxed out.”

“Well, what events do we have in December?”

“So many,” Anna sighed, stacking the photos neatly into a pile. “Santa will be here every night in the lobby. A reindeer petting zoo will be set up outside. A few movie nights and Christmas caroling. On weekends there will be sleigh rides through the woods and hot beverage stands outside. Am I forgetting something?”

“There’s also going to be a story time and cookie decorating with Santa event on Christmas Eve,” Holly pointed out. “All of the kids will be wearing their pajamas.”

“Okay.”

“But other than that, that’s it.”

“Thank god,” Anna breathed, finally collapsing in her office chair and tossing the pile of pictures onto her desk.

“I’m actually really excited for the story time with Santa.”

“Are you bringing your son to that one?”

Holly nodded. “He’ll only be eight months old, but why not? It’ll be adorable.”

“I can’t wait to actually see him in person,” Anna smiled. “Now, is there anything that we have to do on Christmas Day or New Years Eve or Day?”

“No, not us. Culinary is going to have buffets - like the one they’re having for Thanksgiving - and then the hotel puts out extra televisions and passes out champagne for New Years. We actually have off on those days.”

“Really? I mean, Christmas Day makes sense, but New Years? That’s a little unexpected.”

“Well, we have put most of our energy into planning the ball, and there wouldn’t be enough time to throw three huge parties in a month. So, the holidays are ours.”

“I’m so thankful for the person who made that decision,” Anna laughed. “I may wind up here on those days, anyway, though.”

Holly clicked her tongue. “Don’t do that - enjoy your extra days off.”

“It’s not like I have anywhere better to be,” she shrugged.

“I’d offer for you to come over on Christmas, but I’ll be with my in-laws in the morning, and my parents at night. Baby’s first Christmas, and all.”

“Oh, no I wasn’t trying to invite myself or get you to pity me.”

“I know,” Holly nodded. “I just feel bad that you’ll be all alone.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll call my sister, like I always do when I have time off, and then I’ll come here and see what’s going on.”

“Maybe by then you’ll have a boyfriend and he’ll invite you to spend Christmas with him,” Holly teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

Anna felt her cheeks warm up at the thought. “Christmas is six weeks from today and I think we both know that that’s not going to happen. I’ve been here for two months and the dates I’ve been on haven’t been great.”

“I don’t think you’ve been looking in the right places.”

She rolled her eyes. “To be fair, I came here to work.”

“And now you have enough work for two people,” Holly reminded her. “You should try to have some fun in your free time.”

“I do have fun,” she remarked defensively.

“Oh yeah? Tell me what you do for fun.”

“I just got a Netflix account, so I’ve been trying to catch up on all of the shows that I’ve missed over the years.”

Holly cocked her head. “That’s not fun, that’s pathetic. Also - watch Grey’s Anatomy.”

“I’ll add it to my list. And I don’t think that you should judge what I do in my free time when you spend your free time tending to your infant.”

“Exactly! I don’t have any free time. I’m trying to live vicariously through you.”

“Don’t do that,” Anna laughed. “You’re only setting yourself up for disappointment.”

“What if we set you up on Tinder? Or Bumble?”

“Holly -”

“Ooh, I could set you up on a blind date! My husband works in the high school and he has a ton of young, single coworkers.”

“How about we stop talking about my dating life and finish talking about the rest of the events that are coming up?”

“Fine,” Holly groaned, looking down at the calendar. “January is pretty empty. A few movie nights scattered around, and two make-your-own hot chocolate nights.”

“Hot chocolate?”

“Yeah, the kids get a kick of being able to choose their own toppings and stuff.”

“Gotcha,” Anna nodded.

“And then the rest of our energy goes to the ball. January is crunch time. Making sure that everyone RSVP’d, making sure the menu is finalized, reaching out to the DJ, et cetera. It’s going to be a lot.”

“I’ll consider myself warned.”

“That’s the right attitude! Now for February - obviously, the ball is the first thing that month. There’s going to be a few events for Valentine’s Day - card and cookie decorating and a carnation sale.”

“Carnations? Why not roses?”

“Carnations are the flower of love,” Holly answered. “And they’re cheaper than roses.”

“Yeah, but roses are way more popular,” Anna pointed out. “Maybe we should consider ordering roses this year.”

“I’ll look into it,” Holly said, writing it down on her notepad. “Now for March. Easter is the first weekend in April, so the Easter Bunny will be in the lobby for the month. There will be egg hunts and egg decorating - basically, we’ll have eggs coming out of our ears - in the week leading up to the holiday.”

“Is that it?”

“Well, we hadn’t got that far for this upcoming year, but usually we throw in some cookie decorating, too.”

“Okay, that’s manageable,” Anna commented.

Holly frowned. “And then I believe we’re losing you, after that.”

“Yeah, I’m going home in April,” Anna sighed. “We can plan a few more events for that month, though. I won’t be leaving until late April.”

Holly smiled. “So I get a little more time with you than I thought.”

“Hopefully Bonnie will find her replacements by then. Or else you’ll be doing the work of three people.”

“Don’t remind me,” Holly groaned. “I don’t want to think of that as being a possibility.”

She wiggled the mouse of her computer and it turned back on. She signed onto her email, hoping to see an explanation from Jenny. Instead, she found an email from the manager of the bakery. She spun around to face her coworker. “Liz just emailed me and said that they were able to specially order the cookie kits that Jenny requested.”

“Finally, some good news today,” Holly remarked. “Not that the news of you being promoted was bad. But it was...a lot.”

“Tell me about it,” Anna laughed.

Holly’s phone rang, then, interrupting their conversation. “Hold on just a sec,” she started, before picking it up. “Hello, you’ve reached the event planning office, this is Holly speaking.”

Anna turned back to her computer and scrolled through her inbox, trying not to eavesdrop on Holly’s conversation.

“Oh, hi Bonnie! How can I help you?”

Bonnie? She glanced back at her coworker, who had a puzzled look on her face.

“I’m sorry...what? Are you kidding?...Okay, we’ll be right down,” Holly said, slamming the receiver down and standing up. “Come on, Anna, we have to go.”

“Wait, what happened? Where are we going?”

[alexius-fr]

What’s this, a lore post? Yes it is! 

Chapter One - Arrival 

The newest chapter of my lore is up on AO3 (just click the chapter title) or if you prefer, you can read it below the cut! 

They'd been flying for hours.

They had crossed through the storms of the seemingly endless Shifting Expanse, over the Sea of a Thousand Currents, and now they were flying over the Windswept Plateau, giant kites in the sky above, rocky spires protruding from lush forests beneath. The wind here was soft, warm, whimsical.

Sanguine hated it.

But perhaps it was far enough for now. He looked behind him, to see a group of tired, struggling dragons flying in his trail. His brother Silas was closest, at his side as always, as he had been for years.

“Sange.” Silas panted, his wings barely keeping him adrift. “I swear if we don't take a break soon I'll have a fit.” he pretended to swoon in the air, making a dramatic gesture with his wing on his forehead. He lost balance as a result, flapping his wings clumsily to get back into position, Sanguine frowning with bemusement. His brother had always been a bit of a frivolous brat, but judging by the state of the others, he might have a point.

“Fine.” Sanguine nodded, putting his eyes dead ahead once more. A great spire appeared in the distance, and it looked like it was inhabited. They could rest there, and restock supplies for the rest of the journey. “Over there. Follow me.” Sanguine said, starting the descent.

The spire was like a vibrant little town, the buildings up top scattered all over the rocky ridges, lush growths preventing the making of real paths, but any real Wind dragon didn't need something as mundane as paths. As they got closer, they drew many curious stares from the dragons that probably inhabited the spire, but they were not stopped or questioned, the group flying into the main area up top, a large natural platform that lent itself perfectly for useage as a courtyard or square. It was surrounded by shops, market stands and a small temple. In the middle there was a natural spring, it's crystal clear water carving it's way out in a small stream that eventually formed the smallest waterfall Sanguine had ever seen, as it finally reached the edge of the platform and clattered off the side with a gentle continuous noise.

Tired and thirsty, the rest of his clan also touched down and immediately began drinking from the spring, himself included. He made sure he had his fill before he looked up to investigate his surroundings closer. But by then they'd attracted quite a crowd, inhabitants, shopkeepers and visitors alike having come to watch them, curiously inspecting their guests.

“You in the habit of staining someone else's water with your taint straight after you arrive?”

The deep voice that sneered at them was monotone, yet vicious. Sanguine looked around to find the owner of the voice, seeing a shadowy spectre of a dragon looking down upon them from the temple roof. Deep purple eyes peered at him from above a dark mask, curious and yet condemning.

“Oh is this your water?” Silas was, as ever, ready to sneer back. “I don't see your name written on it anywhere.” he met the Shadow dragon's relentless stare with a look of ire.

“It's not just ordinary water, you stupid plaguespreader.” the dragon on the temple roof uncoiled himself, his shape revealing that he was a spiral. One jump and he glided gracefully down to the courtyard, landing in front of Sanguine and Silas. “It's our sacred spring. It's water is only used for special ceremonies.”

“Yeah? Well there wasn't any ceremonies going on so how were we supposed to know?” Silas rebutted. He threw his head back with arrogance, Sanguine unwillingly reminded of the way their mother always did that, in almost the exact same way

Where would she be now, he wondered. Was she still alive? Was she still the furious, prideful creature he once knew? He hadn't seen her, or heard from her, in years. Shifting his weight from his left leg to his right, he was reminded once more of their duel so long ago, that had left him crippled. The injury had never healed properly, leaving him with a scar and a limp. He'd come to accept both as part of himself over the years, but on bad days just looking at the scar gave him the urge to tear his own leg off.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a loud hiss, seeing Silas and the shadow Spiral about to jump eachother. He supposed he should really intervene, they needed a place to rest their wings for a few days and he couldn't have Silas get them thrown out. But before he could step in, a voice echoed over the courtyard, light and clear as the water that ran in the spring.

“Shen! That's enough.”

Heads turning towards the entrance of the temple, the crowd bowed to the Spiral that had come out of it's main gate. They were a bright mix of mauve, jade and every colour in between, eyes of the purest green, the air seeming to dance around them. Large curious eyes looked at Sanguine, smiling mysteriously. Their horns glowed a spirited light green, their hide shimmering with markings in that same colour. This was a being of great power and wisdom, even if on the outside they looked like just another spiral dragon. Sanguine guessed they were an entity, a spirit of wind. He'd gotten a knack for recognizing power throughout the years.

“Alexius, I was just-” the shadow spiral, apparently named Shen, backed away from Silas, with a reverent bow. Who- or whatever Alexius was, it was clear that everyone here had a lot of respect for them.

“They are just weary travelers, Shen. Let them drink. What good will the water do just running off the spire like that?” Alexius approached them with a light hearted smile. Sanguine bowed lightly to them, nudging Silas to do the same. Silas did not neglect to roll his eyes before he followed suit.

“Thank you, Alexius. I apologize for the misunderstanding, we never meant to offend.” Sanguine spoke diplomatically. “My name is Sanguine, and this is my brother Silas. We lead our clan together. Sometimes.” the snarky remark at the end had Silas scoff, but Alexius seemed to enjoy it, their smile growing wider.

“Be welcome, Sanguine. I am Alexius, and this is my clan. Please forgive Shen's caution, he's very passionate about protecting this place. I'm sure you understand the importance of protecting a place that is home to you.” Alexius said, their body dreamily suspended just above the ground. They seemed to be levitating effortlessly, their wings not moving at all.

“Once we find a home, perhaps that will be a sentiment I can relate to.” Sanguine said politely.

“Ah yes, you have lived a life on the go. You are a survivor, Sanguine.” Alexius' eyes gleamed shortly with a jolt of power. Had they seen his past? How did they know? No, any idiot could see that he'd lived a life of travel, of hardship. He had the scars to show it.

“Ah, but you must be weary from your long flight. You may rest in our caverns. It should provide you with everything you need. And if not, there's not a thing we don't sell or provide up here.” Alexius smiled warmly.

“Alexius-” Shen protested. “Surely you're not thinking of letting them stay? They're plague. They'll bring trouble before long.”

“My spire is a refuge to all, Shen. What would've happened to you if I'd turned you away? What will happen to them if we refuse them a simple place to rest their wings? How will it reflect on us?” Alexius spoke calmly, patient like a teacher would speak to a pupil. “Do you understand?” “Yes, master.” Shen bowed his head, a little shamed.

“You are a bright young dragon, Shen. But you must learn that sometimes your eyes can cheat you. Appearances can be deceiving.” Alexius smiled gently. “There is far more to these dragons that meets the eye.” they glanced at Sanguine with a knowing look, Sanguine wondering what Alexius saw.

“Zephyr, will you show our guests to the caverns?” Alexius called, a young ridgeback quickly making his way up to them. Sanguine couldn't quite place the feeling, but he thought there was something familiar about him. Or it could just be because he was tired from their long journey.

“Of course, master Alexius.” Zephyr spoke with a voice like a light breeze, pleasant on the ears like a windchime. “Please, follow me.” the youngster bowed to them and then showed them the easiest way down, guiding them to a natural cavern below the spire. It was perfect for a short rest, a river running nearby and the dense bamboo forests would provide them with plenty of food.

“Here we are.” Zephyr said, proudly. His pale green eyes glinted with life in the sunlight, his striped hide perfect camouflage for hunting in the forests that were below the spire. He looked young, energetic, healthy. Sanguine hated that he couldn't think of who he reminded him of. Like the thing you know you've forgotten to do but you can't for the life of it remember what it was. How annoying. “Thank you, Zephyr. We'll manage from here.” Sanguine said.

“Are you sure? I can answer some questions, if you have them.” Zephyr said, hopeful. “We don't really get whole clans visiting often. Especially not Plague clans.” he was obviously curious but did not want to admit it outright. “My father came from Plague, but he says he'd never go back.”

“Look kid, we're tired.” Silas intervened. “And we don't want to talk about where we're from or where we're going. We'll be out of your spines before you know it, so just leave us alone.”

“Oh. I'm sorry.” Zephyr recoiled a little, his spines lowering submissively. “I'll leave you to it then.” he was quick to turn and leave, Sanguine throwing Silas an annoyed look. “What did you do that for? He was only curious.” “And annoying.” Silas argued. “This place give me the creeps. Everyone's nice. It's just not natural.” “Imagine being nice.” Sanguine frowned with irony. He watched Zephyr disappear into the cloudy top of the spire, a strange hollow feeling nagging at him. He had the feeling he knew him. But how was that possible? He'd never been to the Windswept Plateau before. And yet..

“Oh come on brother, don't be a spoilsport. He's just a kid. You used to love bullying kids.” Silas grinned widely, sticking out his tongue at Sanguine. “Or have you gone soft?” “I've gone tired. Shut up.” Sanguine grumbled, walking into the cavern.

There were plenty of little alcoves for them all to roost, and he picked the largest one, liking to have space for himself. Of course space was a relative term with Silas roosting in the alcove just below him, but at least it was better than sleeping in an open, unprotected clearing. Come morning, he would have a good think about where to go next from here. For now, all he wanted was to sleep.

“Hey Sange.” Silas' voice sounded from below, just as Sanguine was about to doze off. “What?” Sanguine growled in annoyance. “You ever think back to mom?” Silas asked, for once, not trying to annoy him. Sanguine was caught off guard by the genuine question. He was expecting something stupid to come out of Silas' mouth. But just this once, his brother sounded melancholic.

“Yes. Quite often.” Sanguine replied honestly.

“You think she's alive still?” Silas asked. “I'd be surprised if she's not. An emperor could not best her if it tried.” Sanguine said.

“Old age can catch up with anyone.” Silas argued. “But I'm inclined to agree. We're closer to Plague territory than we've been in years. Think she'll come find us?” “I certainly hope not.” Sanguine said, genuinely. “Now can I please sleep?” “Of course. Good night, brother.” Silas yawned.

“Good night, Silas.” Sanguine mumbled, laying his head down and curling his tail around his weary body.

The morning would bring clarity.

[crimsonhcadache]

      - ̗̀ NOW INTRODUCING:  IVES ❝ IVY ❞ SERRANO !

( DANNA PAOLA, CISFEMALE, SHE/HER, SCORPIO, 24 ) I just spotted IVES “IVY” SERRANO at the beach today. Don’t you know them? They live down by the TOWERS and usually hang out with the RICH KIDS & MUSICIANS cliques. From what I’ve heard, they can be DECEITFUL, but they’re also ADAPTIVE. I always think of them when i hear LAST LAUGH - FLETCHER and tend to associate them with STRAWBERRY CHAMPAGNE, A FRESH SET OF STILETTO NAILS, AND RED LINGERIE. ( tay, she/her, 22, est )

full name: natalie rose serrano ives serrano nicknames: ivy, poison ivy faceclaim: danna paola voiceclaim: lana del rey birthday: november 1st, 1996  zodiac: scorpio sun, aries moon, gemini rising sexuality: bisexual occupation: influencer, instagram model, musician, scammer / thief positive traits: effervescent, bold, creative, charismatic, coquettish, intuitive, ambitious, alluring, adventurous, perceptive  negative traits: cantankerous, deceitful, envious, manipulative, dramatic, stubborn, narcissistic, materialistic, reckless, quick-tempered character inspos: maddy perez euphoria, jackie burkhart that 70’s show, blair waldorf gossip girl, margo hanson the magicians, every lana del rey song ever, lucrecia montesinos and cayetana pando elite, rosa diaz brooklyn nine nine, the entire rose family schitts creek, jen harding dead to me

- ̗̀♡ — › background !

the main thing u need to know about ivy is that she is lying ! always !! her real name isn’t even actually ivy smh

she was born NATALIE ROSE SERRANO, to two working class parents in new york city. she knew from a young age that she was just supposed to be rich and famous, and that something had gotten mixed up somewhere and she was put in the wrong life.

in high school she got a scholarship to a fancy private catholic school, and that’s where she started to hone her craft of manipulating rich people. she would befriend all of the richest bitches at school and take advantage of everything that came along with it: vacations to far away places, stays in the family’s cabins and lake houses, even designer clothes that her friends no longer wanted and would gift to her, thinking it was their idea all along

as she grew up and got better at getting what she wanted out of people, her entitled attitude only got worse, driving a wedge between her and her parents, who kept waiting for her to develop a work ethic and kept being disappointed. a few months after she graduated high school, on her 18th birthday, her parents kicked her out of the house and cut her off, hoping that it would force her to grow up and take on any responsibility

but that plan backfired for them, her parents underestimating how truly stubborn natalie was. the day after her 18th, she wandered into a local strip club and got a job, figuring it’d be the easiest and quickest way to get some cash, and she took to it naturally and actually really enjoyed stripping

she started to embody an entirely new persona that she had created for herself, dancing under the name POISON IVY and telling everyone she was a trust fund baby that had been cut off from her rich parents, needing to dance to supplement her income, and her lies just continued to spiral out of control until she almost started to believe it herself. she had never told anyone at the club her real name, not even the other strippers, just going by “ivy” for a while.

she had learned to weaponize the power she had over people by being pretty and charming, using her looks for absolute evil and doing whatever it took to get money—from straight up pickpocketing, to making men buy her expensive gifts, to blackmailing, to sugar babying, to getting patrons wasted and manipulating them into tipping her absurd amounts… she did it all, very quickly earning enough to live the life she had always dreamed of, that she felt she deserved for whatever twisted reason.

she started posting on instagram with the name poison ivy generally just flaunting her carefree, extravagant life, often exaggerating or down right lying just to really dazzle her quickly growing audience

as she started to go down the influencer route, she realized she needed to do something to hide the skeletons in her closet ( the fact that she didn’t actually come from money and was making far more than was normal for even the best of dancers, a couple of small possession / shoplifting charges, and just generally anything that could lead people to her real identity ) so she started to tell people her name was ives, fully taking on the new identity. she even went so far as to make some of the people that had been closest to her sign NDAs about her real identity, making sure that no one could sell info about her should her plan of being famous work out

she also moved out to california to run away from everyone in the city that was starting to catch on to what she was doing, basically doing all the same shit but now in a New Place.. this was about 3-4 years ago, so she’s been in sunhollow for a while now doing the whole influencer thing !!

and it did work out !! at first she was definitely buying followers/likes to boost her likelihood of brand sponsorships, but eventually she faked it until she made it and actually attained influencer status. she then used her newfound internet fame ( and some classic blackmailing ) to get herself a record deal 

she also started sleeping around with pretty much any famous person she could, having very public relationships and breakups and scandals to keep her name in the press, which ultimately lead to more exposure/people following her, if only to see what she did next, which lead to even more sponsorships

eventually she stopped dancing and just focused on her influencing and more recently ( like... less than 6 months ago recently ) her music career. but she never stopped sugar babying and scamming rich stupid men, still very much using that as a means to keep up her lifestyle. she’s also done a few modeling things, but it’s mostly just like catalog work or being the face of a trendy campaign bc she’s way too short for the runway

she also recently made an only fans account bc she was bored one night and was mostly planning on posting once as a joke but then she made a bunch of money / got a bunch of subscribers and was like oh word ? i can do that ! so she will post on there from time to time but she’s not like… super serious about it ya know ? also her music label is big mad at her for it bc they’re like bUt yOuR rEpUtAtIoN and she’s like yeah.. but my bank account ? also it’s no secret she used to be a stripper so she rly just.. doesn’t give a fuck ! 

so basically she’s jus here making money being pretty and pulling a long ass scam on… everyone

- ̗̀♡ — › personality / headcannons !

she’s a real two faced bitch… she has perfected the art of becoming whoever she thinks other people want her to be, quickly adapting her personality to get whatever she wants

she’s usually pretty friendly actually, really charming and outgoing and just trying to have a good time

she has a pretty short temper tho and holds grudges like you wouldn’t believe, so once you’re on her bad side… good luck lol she is so ruthless

she’s like… deeply, deeply selfish and will always put herself first, but she’s so manipulative that she can make people do things that they think are their idea, but it’s really just something she planted in their head so it’s not always obvious

also very spoiled and will throw a mf fit if she doesn’t get her way or u say no to her

always going out !! always doing the most !! she’s the type to show up randomly at ur door at 8pm on a tuesday with a bottle of tequila and make u party with her whether u like it or not

she’s a lot smarter than she lets on sometimes, like she knows people expect her to be stupid and ditzy and shallow and she’ll let them underestimate her when it’s beneficial

always looks perfectly put together— her nails are always meticulously manicured, usually w stiletto shaped acrylics, and you’ll literally never see her outside her house without makeup and a perfectly composed outfit. it’s also a rare occasion that she’s not wearing at least six inch heels, trying to make up for bein so mf short ( she’s 5’3 )

she talks A Lot but is really good at saying a lot of words without actually saying anything, like you can be best friends with her for months and then just be like “i don’t actually know a single thing about her”

always up to no good and sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong !! she’s always got some sort of scheme going or getting in to some kind of drama

v much a hoe and v much proud of it, will sleep w just about anyone especially if she can get something out of it

also a serial dater !! she’s always hoping in and out of relationships and being rumored to be with a dozen people at once

most definitely calls paparazzi on herself, especially when she’s around other famous ppl but will never admit it

compulsive liar, she will literally lie about the dumbest things like she doesn’t even need a reason to lie she jus.. does

she has a luxury two bedroom apartment that she lives alone in ( one room is kinda a guest room but also mostly just a giant closet ) in the towers and the gag is she doesn’t even know how much her rent is bc one of her random sugar daddies pays her rent.. her power tbh 

- ̗̀♡ — › wanted connections !

hookups / flings / one night stands / fwbs all that shit !!

exes on bad terms … gimme drama pls

enemies / ppl she’s stolen from maybe… she would definitely deny it and say they’re jus jealous of her or smth stupid but that could make the feud worse

party pals !! like i said she goes out a lot and always somehow manages to make new friends and drag them into her shenanigans

on again / off again exes… i want the Angst so bad..

shallow friendships / influencer friends like they play it up a lot for insta bc they both have a pretty big following but they dont really... like each other that much ?? like they definitely seem to be a lot closer than they really are

pr relationships this could be past or present !! in the same vein as the last one except they pretend to date ( or maybe just act like they’re gonna date but never actually do ?? like to fuel rumors ) 

unlikely friends !! like ppl who are nice and sweet and Pure, she could use a lil good energy in her life

situationship / flirtationship like they’re super flirty and maybe hook up a couple times but everyone assumes they’re dating or like gonna date but they’re jus vibing. bonus points if one or both of them actually has feelings but can’t tell if they’re just friends / casually hooking up or if it could turn into something more.. im a slut for some mutual pining !!

neighbors … mb they hate her for always being loud n throwing mini parties OR maybe they join in

mean girl rivalries !!

someone she’s taking advantage of / stealing from without them knowing .. oof

partner in crime !!!

one sided crushes or like someone she’s stringing along smh

sugar daddies mb 😇

someone to put her in her mf place JDKDKD like they call her out on her bs and are like “i see what ur doing bitch stay away from my friends” type thing

idk anything really !! gimme all the messy plots ok :~)

[hphmsecretsanta2020]

Merry Christmas @dimitri-hphm !! This is from your Secret Santa @aviandemiwitch

We hope you have a wonderful day! Happy Holidays!!

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

December, 1989

It was far colder than he liked, this year. The snow had come early this year to the Highlands, making him wish all the more that he was back home. The wolf in him wished to den down for the winter, or find a warmer location before it got any colder.

It was also nighttime, and he hoped the calculations he’d been given by the one Gryffindor were correct. The metallic ozone smell that lingered around her unnerved even him.

He entered the courtyard, shifting with barely a thought, before heading out to the forest. Talbott was due to meet him there. 

Finding their preferred meeting point, he turned back and shivered in the cold Scottish air. He was glad it wasn’t a full moon, though he could feel it was getting close. He’d be in Sicily for this month’s, meaning a back room instead of a drafty old house.

The closeness of the full moon, and his uncommon impatience with Talbott, left him feeling unusually restless.

A rustle of leaves, and familiar smells grabbed his attention as a bronze eagle fluttered to the forest floor. A twitch of tails, and Talbott appeared in human form.

They embraced briefly. Talbott was staying, and the portkey was only set to activate with him. There was a small part of him that wanted to stay, despite the efforts he put in to get out early. Charms and Kettleburn had been the least objectionable and easiest to payback. Snape and McGonagall were among the hardest, given their midterms were the most practical of the classes.

And the time was getting close.

He hoped Talbott would be able to come later, once the holidays started, and after winter midterms were completed for everyone else.

They untangled, before pulling a small gift out of his pocket. It had taken some hunting, and a trip to Flourish and Blott’s to find it.

“Thought I’d give this to you now,” he said, handing the blue-wrapped item to his boyfriend. This was his least favourite part of Christmas, the expectation of gift giving and receiving. He hated owing anything to anyone, or vice versa. It left a bitter undertone to his already anxious mood. But Talbot had been talking about it, and so he found it.

“Thanks,” Talbot replied. “I already owled yours to your family.” He nodded curtly, the tick-tick-tick of his wristwatch reminding him of the piece of parchment remaining in his pocket.

A last kiss, quiet murmurs of “Be careful,” before a flick of his tails, he was off.

The scenery sped past as he headed towards the Scottish border. It was times like this that he secretly appreciated his ability to keep part of his human mind while transformed.

He transformed back when he reached a clearing, where a boot sat waiting. It was if someone had just forgotten it, rather than his means home. He pulled the scrap of parchment out, before checking his watch.

Nearly time.

Her grabbed the ankle portion, before feeling the abrupt gut hook pull of magic moving him between Scotland and Italy.

It was not his favourite way to travel.

But it beat navigating several fireplaces between Scotland, England, France and Italy. And came with less suspicions about the firearm he kept on him, especially since he was going home.

The fewer the questions, the better.

The portkey landed, as abruptly as it had left, sending him thudding to the ground and it skidding a few feet, before stopping against the garden wall. 

It was light enough to tell time had passed, but dark enough to not know how much had.

He picked himself up, along with the boot, and headed inside.

It was warmer inside, a fire already roaring in the main fireplace, and several servants tending to morning duties. The carpets laid down muffled his footsteps as he headed towards his room, if only to change out of these clothes into some cleaner ones that would be consider more suitable.

His sister was coming home tomorrow, possibly, as she was staying to complete midterms in Japan, where their father had gone to school.

Thankfully, Jacob wasn’t coming for Christmas, too wrapped up in whatever he was doing.

He changed, shucking the clothes he’d worn, and finding something a little nicer for dealing with his father. A glance at his bedside clock told him it was just after 6:30 am, and his father was no doubt waiting. Weapons tucked away, he walked over to his father’s office.

He barely raised a hand to knock, when his father said, “Enter, Dimitri.”

It was terse, even for them. 

Snape had owled what seemed to be a sort of end of semester of report. While he was excelling in what classes he had, the fighting and hunt for the vaults diminished the success of his classes.

The meeting was otherwise civil for them, with them butting heads only a couple times.

He spent the rest of the day re-exploring the area. 

The rest of the week passed quickly, with Skylar’s arrival the highlight. With her arrival, the house felt a little warmer.

An owl or two also arrived  from Talbott, covering the progress made on some of the events around school. There were also things said that left him laying awake most nights. Cards arrived over the next week, each mirroring their respective personalities, with both of the Weasley boys sending one card.

Christmas was a quiet happening, with gifts exchanged early in the morning, before heading off to the holiday’s mass. Going into town was civil for them, with his mother and Skylar keeping the peace the best they could.

This outing was practically family tradition, the hours long Christmas mass, even as the large part of his family was magical. He itched to move. This was hardest thing, though easier than finding any gift. He sat next to his mother, with Skylar next to him, with Skylar only half paying attention to the service. 

After the service wrapped up around noon, they headed back to home, getting ready for the gathering that was due to start in a few hours. It would mostly be family and associates of his father, and would be a relatively formal affair. 

He opened Talbott’s gift in his room after they got home from the service, which turned out to be a beautifully decorated pen knife, along a few of his favourite sweets from Honeydukes. There was another package that smelled familiar, but doubted would much good now. He tucked the pen knife into the pocket of the pants he was going to wear for the gathering, and put the candy inside his shrunken trunk, joining the rest of his presents for the trip back to Scotland. There would be time to savour them later, when he was back in the relative privacy of his dorm back up at school.The remaining package joined his potion kit, and the stash of bottles therein. 

He finished getting things ready, wishing his guy was here with him. Yes, it was important for him to attend these events, considering he was to take over when his father wished. Or something happened. They were still tedious to attend on long days such as this. 

He glanced over at the sole bookcase kept beneath one of his windows, and it was packed with the manga books he’d either gotten or was gifted in years past. His gun sat on top of the bookshelf. Staring out into the grounds, 

He suspected tonight’s was especially important for whatever reason, though he wasn’t entirely sure as to why. His father had no immediate plans, as far as he knew, to transfer control yet, even as he took over more and more command over jobs.

The formality of the event was already feeling a touch stifling, though it was perhaps expected.  A holiday such as this tended to be formal, however casual it seemed.

A noise outside his windows caught his attention, as a familiar looking eagle landed in a clatter of wings and feathers into one of his mother’s regularly tended planters.

It could only be Talbott. Crazy bird boy.

He tossed a shirt and some shoes on, and hurried outside to gather his disoriented boy inside. He’d just managed to get inside his bedroom before Talbott returned to his human form. It was a flurry of hushed whispers, and holding each other close, before his sister knocked on his door, passing on a message from the parents wondering if he was ready. He groaned, before a snarky, “Not yet,” led his sister to retort, “You’re taking longer than it took me.” One hastily put together suit for Talbott and possibly setting a land speed record for himself, they were set. Weapons concealed they headed in.

The evening passed in a blur of chatter, good food, and quite a bit of alcohol. He was enjoying the fact that he’d turned seventeen, and could legally partake of some of the drinks, not that had stopped him before now. Skylar was less likely to imbibe as much as him, but even she had her favourites. Even the other guest were slightly less annoying than if Talbott hadn’t decided to come down, and there hadn’t been an open bar. 

Having Talbott there went surprisingly smooth, even if he expected it to go otherwise. His parents, while not wholly thrilled, seemed to accept Talbott with open arms. Skylar seemed thrilled to at least meet him. He wondered if Talbott had received some training, or as really this naturally charming. 

The next day was quiet. The party had lasted a few hours after he, Talbott and Skylar had all been sent off to bed, despite the muted protest of him and his sister. The nearly full moon was also having its impact. Despite that, his sleep wasn’t peaceful, the aches making it difficult.

The next night was the full moon, leading to a small frenzy of activity during the day, as the back room of the house was prepared for his confinement. Older blankets and sheets pulled from the linen cupboard where they were kept, and made into a pseudo-bed on the floor.

It was a rough night, even with the precautions taken. And perhaps because of them. The old shack, while drafty, was roomy. The room, while reasonably warmer, felt cramped and dark. 

Feeling the moon start to wane a number of hours later was a private relief that he’d only admit to himself, even with the magicks his grandfather had worked.

Talbott flew back a couple days later, even as he wished that he would have stayed for the New Year. It wasn’t long after that both he and Skylar were sent back to their respective schools. He was also expected to check in with Madam Pomfrey, which left him snarling. The worst had been bandaged and healed the day after, along with a helping of food and rest.

A stern look from his father left him grumbling to himself, and scowling for the walk outside. He’d be taking another portkey, but to Hogsmeade near the Hog’s Head this time. He felt far too tired still to ask why that hadn’t been what happened before.

It had been a quiet goodbye, and one bumpy portkey trip later, he was back in the cold, white north of Scotland. It was still snowy, and still very cold, and he trudged back to the castle, heading towards the Forbidden Forest before transforming and traveling back that way. The snow and cold permeating his body wasn’t helping, keeping his movements sluggish.

He just managed to transform back, and finding Talbott waiting in the courtyard area. Together, they headed inside, with his grumbling about his father’s orders to visit the infirmary. Talbott made him go as well, if only to check on the state of the newest scars.

Having been poked, prodded, a painful salves applied and two disgusting tasting potions later, Madam Pomfrey released him to go back to the Slytherin common room for more rest.

Back in his dorm, he infinitely glad the holidays were over.

For now.

[calpalirwin]

Nightmare

Summary: Ashton wakes up from a nightmare

A/N: Been a while since I wrote Ash getting comforted.

Content: Soft

Word count: 1.1k

And away, and away we go!

__

Ashton had suffered from nightmares for as long as he could remember. Well, nightmare, as it was always the same one. It was less the dream that bothered him, and more the feeling it evoked. Flashes of red that gave way to pitch black and the claustrophobia of being utterly alone. Abandoned and helpless in the dark. If he was lucky, he’d wake up in a cold sweat, fighting to breath against the tight band around his chest. Sometimes he’d wake up screaming a desperate plea for someone, anyone, to come help him.

The first time his scream had echoed throughout the tour bus, he had cried from embarrassment in Luke’s arms while Mike distracted him with video games, and Calum made them all hot chocolate. The morning light found the boys curled up in a tangle of long limbs, Ashton in the most peaceful sleep of his short life thus far.

As Ashton grew, he began to notice patterns that increased or decreased the frequency of the nightmare. It got to the point where he only experienced the dream on the first nights of tour and the first nights he came home, as his body adapted to the environment change. As a result, he refused to sleep anywhere besides his own bed in his room at home or in his bunk on the bus.

While Ashton was grateful for his bandmates never saying a word, offering him the barest hint of a small in the mornings he knew he had kept them up with his screaming, the embarrassment never went away. So when it came to women, overnight guests for the drummer were few and far between.

Half of your relationship with Ashton had been spent with him being on tour. It wasn’t the easiest relationship you’ve ever had, but it was definitely the best. He had never hidden the fact that his job would always come first, but he made sure your relationship with him was a close second. Whether it was through daily video message updates that you were on his mind, or spending an entire day with you in bed when he was home, there was no doubt in your mind that he loved you with his whole heart.

You loved him right back. Which is why when his daily video message was him on a plane saying he was finally coming home, you had wasted no time in packing a few of your things, fully intent on spending as much time wrapped up in his arms as possible before the weekend ended and the real world called you back.

~~~

“Baby!” his voice called out happily and you were in his arms before his own bag hit the floor, kissing the face you had missed so much. “I-is that a bag?” he asked, pulling back, noticing your own bag in the corner of the room.

“Yeah,” you told him, a grin on your face. “I’m all yours, all weekend,” you practically purred up at him.

His hazel eyes looked back at you, full of nervous worry you didn't understand.

“Is that okay?” you checked, biting into your lip nervously.

“You’ve never spent the night before, that’s all.” His smile was soft, but again, there was a worry behind the nerves that you couldn’t place.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to,” you assured him, placing your hand gently on his cheek, feeling the scratch of his stubble.

He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he leaned into your touch. “No,” he shook his head, his eyes as soft as his smile when they opened. “I want you to stay. I’m sorry I haven’t asked you to before, I j-”

“Shh,” you cut him off, pressing a finger to his lips. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

The nervous worry melted and he smiled that genuine smile you loved so much: the one that showed off his slightly crooked teeth, made his dimple indent his cheek, and his eyes crinkle in the corners. “God, I’ve missed you,” he confessed.

“I’ve missed you too,” you answered with a kiss.

~~~

“No…” he mumbled in his sleep, his body twisting, taking the blanket with him.

“Hmm?” you mumbled back, just as sleepily, yawning as you opened your heavy eyelids.

“No.” His voice grew from a soft mumble to a clear whisper, laced with panic. “No, don’t leave me!” You watched in your own state of frozen fear while his dream held him captive. “Please!” his body continued to fight, the panic making his voice climb higher and higher. “COME BACK!”

His cry brought tears to your own eyes and your hand was reaching out to rub gently at his bare shoulder. “Hey,” you called out softly. “Shh, it’s alright, I’m right here. Ash, it’s okay.”

“NO!” came the scream as his eyes flew open and he shot up in bed, breathing hard and heavy.

You shifted closer to him, rubbing at his shoulders, soothing whispers leaving your lips. When he recoiled from your touch, you took no offense. His eyes were wild with terror when his brain fully woke up and he turned to look at you, remembering he wasn’t alone. His shoulders heaved once and then the man was sobbing into his hands. This time, he didn’t recoil when you reached out to soothe him once more.

With each sob that fought past his lips and soothing whisper that followed, the tightness in his chest lessened. “Fuck,” he sniffed after a small eternity.

“Is that why you don’t have me sleep over?” you asked, all of his hesitation finally making sense.

He nodded. “It’s fuckin embarrassing… Grown ass man having a nightmare.... FUCK!” He leaned back against the headboard, sighing in defeat.

“Does that happen a lot?”

He shook his head. “Used to. I’ve gotten better at managing it, though.”

You nodded, watching him carefully as you offered comfort from a distance. There was a swirl of emotions raging through his eyes and you wanted to tread carefully. Let him open up to you slowly, on his own terms. “Who leaves?” you wondered out loud.

He shrugged. “That’s the problem. I don’t know. I don’t see anybody. I don’t see anything. I just feel… so fuckin lost. Like I got left behind. Only I don’t know who left me behind or what I got left behind for. I’m just alone. So terribly alone.”

You nodded again as the confession spilled into the silence surrounding you, your heart breaking in your chest for the man beside you. A man who poured his heart and soul into every inch of his life; who desperately craved someone showing him that same level of devotion, but would never admit it awake and conscious. “Well,” you said, moving slowly to grab his hand, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Instead of holding your hand back, he shifted to pull you against his chest, breathing you in as deep as he could. “Thanks for being here with me.”

The morning light found Ashton sleeping peacefully, tangled up in you.

__

Tag List

@goeatsomelife​ @flameraine​ @cashtonasff5sos​ @here-for-the-uproars​ @cxddlyash​ @1-irwin-94​ @baldcalum​ @sparkling-chaos​ @tea4sykes​ @youngblood199456​ @5-seconds-of-obsession​ @gosh-im-short​

[temilyrights]

the case of us (chapter five)

Jack Sloane x Reader

Word Count: 2566

A/N: Shorter chapter this time but I hope you enjoy! Feedback is always welcome :)

Read on AO3

Chapter Four  Chapter Six

You barely contain your yawn as you make your way into the diner. Your face lighting up when you see Jack, already waiting in a booth, and you quickly make your way over. “Sorry, I’m late!” You slide into the seat opposite the blonde, greedily taking a sip of the coffee she pushes towards you. 

“Not a problem, I ordered your usual.” Jack’s smile is a little sheepish like she’s not sure if she’s overstepped but you just flash her a grateful smile and the unease vanishes from her expression.  You sigh as you lean back in the booth, feeling your body relax. “How’s your house guest?” 

You can’t control your groan at that and Jack laughs, a smirk pulling at her lips. “That well, huh?” 

Your younger brother, James, has been staying with you recently after getting kicked out of his old apartment. “He’s the reason I’m late! He kept me up till 2 am shouting at his Xbox.” You whine. “Jack! He doesn’t do anything. I don’t think I’ve seen him do a single chore, he orders take out every night instead of cooking. I swear he turned 15 and decided to just stop ageing!” Jack tries to be sympathetic but there’s still humour in her eyes and you shoot her a glare which just causes her to actually start laughing. 

“You’ve got to find a way to make him uncomfortable, motivate him to want his own place again. He’s too comfortable.” 

You release a withering sigh, dropping your head to the table dramatically. “But how?” The whine is back in your voice again and Jack playfully rolls her eyes at you. 

“He’s your brother.”

You sigh again,  lifting your head to rest in your hand as you look at Jack. A sly smirk covers your face and you can see Jack’s growing unease. “Jackkkkk” You smile sweetly. The blonde just looks at you, crossing her arms. “You’re the profiler… can’t you, I don’t know, meet him, play some mind tricks?” 

“Mind tricks?” Jack smirks, rolling her eyes. “Seriously is that what you think I do?” You’d think you’d offended her if you didn’t notice the humour in her eyes.

“Please, Jack. I need the man child out of my apartment, I want to be able to come home to a clean and quiet place that doesn’t stink of men and greasy take-out food.” Jack doesn’t say anything and you clasp your hands together on the table, trying your best at ‘puppy dog eyes’. “Please! I’m begging, I’ll do anything!” 

“Anything huh?” Her smirk turns devilish, a sparkle in her eye that makes you gulp. You don’t move though, even as a slight blush tinges your cheeks. Jack releases an amused chuckle, tapping your hands to get you to sit back. “Sure. I’ll do it.” 

“Thank you” You grin, breathing a sigh of relief “After work tonight?” 

“Sounds like a plan.” Jack’s eyes are twinkling and it’s not until the waitress arrives with your food that her eyes leave yours. You gulp trying to ignore the weird feeling that has settled in your stomach. 

---

Breakfast is cut short by a call from Gibbs about a case, and you quickly shovel the last of your scrambled eggs into your mouth, shooting an apologetic smile at Jack. You try to drop a couple of bills on the table to pay but Jack waves you off and you don’t have the time to fight her as you hurry out the diner and into your car. 

The victim is Petty Officer William Shore. His body is found on a jogging route where he was shot in the back. There’s not much evidence on the crime scene, only his phone that lays a few feet away from him. You get the statement from the woman who found him, she’d been completing an early morning jog but had no idea who the man was and hadn’t seen him before so the crime scene is wrapped up pretty quickly and before you know it you’re heading to the Navy Yard. 

Gibbs and Ellie go straight to the conference room to interview the victim’s wife and you head to your desk and begin going through the man’s credit card history. 

It’s pretty clean although there’s a suspicious amount of transactions in a neighbourhood that, as far as you know, he doesn’t have any connection too. When Gibbs and Ellie return they’re convinced it isn’t the wife, she’s distraught over the whole incident. Torres informs you all about the frequent number of phone calls over the past six months to a woman called Sarah Dredger. She lives in the same neighbourhood as where your transactions are from.

Gibbs sends you and Torres to collect her and when you knock on her apartment door you’re surprised to find the woman already in tears. You have to stop yourself from laughing at Torres’ eye-roll as he puts the woman into the back of the car.

You get into interrogation and you don’t have to say anything for her to start confessing. It was a story you’d heard thousands of times before, she’d been having an affair with William and he’d promised to leave his wife for her but then, last night, he’d ended their affair over the phone. He ran the same jogging route every morning so she knew where he’d be, she tried to make him reconsider but he wouldn’t listen to her and started to continue to jog. She shot him and dumped the gun in the trash bins outside her home. 

“Well, that was the easiest case of the century.” You roll your eyes, watching as the agents take Sarah away. Jack chuckles from behind you, a smirk on her face. You turn slightly, bumping your shoulder against hers “Redo of breakfast sometime this week?” 

A bright smile fills her face. “It’s a date.” 

---

The day goes by pretty quickly and before you know it Jack’s in the bullpen, jacket on and bag hanging off her shoulder. “Ready to go?” She asks, stopping by your desk. 

You switch off your computer, standing up and sliding your own bag on. “Let’s do this!” The determination is clear in your face and Jack rolls her eyes playfully at you. 

“Hot date?” Nick comments as you begin to follow Jack, you don’t falter though, just grab the rubber band ball off of Ellie’s desk before turning and chucking it at him. Ellie’s and Tim’s laughter follows you out of the room as Torres nearly falls from his chair in the effort to avoid it. When you load onto the lift Jack’s grinning at you and you both break out into laughter. 

----

“James, I’m home!” You call when you open your front door. There’s no answer and you roll your eyes, kicking your shoes off and dumping your bag on the couch as you pass it. Jack does the same, as well as shimmying out of her jacket and placing it nicely on the back of your couch. “Drink?” 

“Sure.” She follows you as you make your way into the kitchen.

“Coffee ok?” 

“Yeah, that’s great.” Jack takes a seat at the breakfast counter as you move around your small kitchen and make the drinks. You’re just tipping the liquid into mugs when you hear the guest bedroom door open. 

“Is that coffee I smell-” Your brother halts, stopping in the entrance of your kitchen when he notices Jack. You don’t bother hiding the smirk that tugs as his mouth drops open in surprise.

“James, right? I’m Special Agent Jacqueline Sloane but call my Jack.” Jack extends her hand and your brother accepts, a smirk pulling at his lips as he quickly recovers from his surprise. 

You focus on finishing the coffee’s, putting Jack’s mug in front of her along with your pot of sugar. You go to hand your brother his and barely contain yourself from throwing an apple at his head when you notice his eyes trail over the blonde. You clear your throat, your eyes dark with danger as you hand the coffee over. When you turn back to look at Jack she’s smirking. 

“So James, are you enjoying staying with Y/N?” Your brother moves to sit on the stool next to her.

“Yeah, it’s like being kids again, she spends the whole time nagging me to do stuff and I respond by not doing it. All that’s missing is when she inevitably would call mum.” 

“Maybe I wouldn’t need to nag you if you actually did anything.” You stick out your tongue at him, completely ignoring the humour you see dancing in Jack’s eyes at your childish action. “And I see you didn’t take out the trash as I asked you too.”

“I only got home like 20 minutes before you. I do have a job too!” 

“But you also didn’t leave for at least an hour after I did!” You didn’t really know exactly what your brother did, you just knew it involved a lot of maths and it was also a 9-5 job. So he always left later than you and arrived home before you but still managed to do nothing to help. 

James arches his eyebrow at you with a smirk on his face and you know whatever he says next you aren’t going to like. “So, Jack, has Y/N ever told you about the time she got food poisoning as a kid and threw up all over the waitresses shoes.” 

“I swear to god, I’m going to kill you.” You glare at your brother, trying to stop the blush from rushing up your face as Jack starts laughing sympathetically. 

“She didn’t! Have you got any other stories?” 

“Jack!” You whine “You’re meant to be on my side!” 

Jack smirks, looking away from you and back to James. “So, what other stories?” 

----

“So...I’ve got an idea. I’m just not sure you’re going to like it.” 

“Jack, I’ll honestly do anything!” You can hear your brothers’ footsteps coming closer and Jack quickly makes her way around the counter, stopping in front of you. 

“Trust me, ok?” 

“Of course.” Jack smiles and then shocks you by grabbing your waist and pushing you back into the counter. Your eyes widen in surprise but you don’t say anything just grip hold of the surface behind you.

Your breath hitches as she steps closer, her hands resting on the counter either side of you and her leg slotting lightly in between yours. “Ok, he’s coming.” She whispers, your eyes fall to her lips and you try to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. Jack’s mouth begins to dip lower, hovering centimetres away from yours and you can’t breathe as your heart pounds in your chest. 

“So, Jack-” James enters the room and Jack lingers just long enough to make sure he’s taken in the scene before stepping away. Your hands are digging into the counter behind you and it takes you a moment to catch your breath before you turn around, you know your face is scarlet, but that doesn’t stop your smirk when you notice the look of horror on your brother's face. “God, I need to get my own place.” Your brother quickly backs out of the room and Jack turns to face you a wide grin on her face. 

You high five, your thumping heart  finally starting to calm down again and you clear your throat, “How did you know that would work?” 

“No one wants to see a member of their family in a position like that.” You laugh but then seconds later scrunch up your face in disgust when an image of your brother being in the same position pops into your head. You shiver and humour dances through Jack’s eyes. 

“Thank you. Really. I owe you one.”

“No problem, It was fun.” That sparkles back in her eye as she smirks and you quickly look away. She excuses herself not long after that and after a quick dinner, watching a couple of episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and a shower you head to bed. And if you happen to dream about Jack’s mouth hovering near yours and the feeling of her leg slotted between yours, well it was the most action you’d gotten in months so really it didn’t mean anything.

----

“You are an angel! James has found his own place!” You barely stop yourself from jumping in joy as you throw open Jack’s office door. You don’t notice her immediately and it’s not until you turn around that you see her quickly getting up from the chair in the corner of her office, wiping at her eyes. 

The glee instantly disappears from your face as you quickly shut her office door. “I’m sorry for barging in...Are you okay?” 

Jack groans, dropping back into the chair and holding her head in her hands. You move over sitting on the floor in front of her and lean up to rub soothing circles on her knee. “Hey, what has happened?” 

Jack’s eyes slowly come up to meet yours and you can see the unshed tears in her eyes. She releases a self-deprecating laugh and huffs a breath. “Safwan Anshiri.”

“One of the Wingo's, right?”

Jack’s lips tip up into a barely-there smile. “It’s his birthday today and It’s just bringing a lot of stuff back up.” You move your hand from her knee up to squeeze one of her hands. 

“Tell me about him.” 

Jack blows out a breath, looking up to the ceiling and you pull your hand away, giving her the space to collect her thoughts. “He couldn’t play poker.” Jack laughs. “He thought he was so good, but the first time I played him I completely thrashed his arse.”

“Oh, so kind of like that time at Gibbs’ when I thrashed your arse.” 

“That was totally a one-off!” Jack scrunches up her nose at you and you can’t contain the wide smile that crosses your face and the playful eye roll you shoot her. “Anyway, we had a short fling but he was a good friend. He was great at keeping everyone’s morale up and could pretty much always make me laugh.” Tears have started to trail down Jack’s face as she smiles. 

“He sounds like a pretty amazing guy.” 

“Yeah, he was.” 

Jack continues to tell you her favourite stories about him and you sit quietly watching the emotions play over her face as you take in every detail. It isn’t until nearly 45 minutes later when your phone rings, Tim telling you they’ve got a lead and need you back, that you finally get off the floor. 

She follows you to the door. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. I mean it.” You don’t overthink it as you pull the woman into a hug, she lets out a slight “oh” in surprise but doesn’t hesitate to wrap her arms around your shoulders. You pull away. “I should get going before Gibbs gets impatient.”

Jack laughs. “Don’t worry I’m sure he’s already annoyed you didn’t materialise in front of him.” As if to prove her point your phone starts ringing and you roll your eyes, showing the phone to Jack as the caller ID flashes. She smirks. “See, nothing if not predictable.” 

“Bye.” You mouth to the blonde, as you make your way out of her office and answer the phone. “I’m just coming now.” 

[golden-deer-dear]

The Weight of a Name, Claude x Byleth AU Fic, Chapter 3

Summary: One decision can change the course of nations. When King Mahtab brought home a baby from Fódlan, he gave his own son someone to stand at his side. Byleth grows up side by side with Claude, surviving the hardship of Almyra together. For each, they are the other’s only friend.

Notes:  Pedar - father (formal) Maman - mother (informal)

1162, 1167 Read on AO3.

The Weight of a Name 1169

The entire city celebrated, decked in brightly colored ribbons with music echoing down every street. For the common folk it was a day off from labor, when the palace passed out free bread and ale, and they danced in the streets until the dawn’s light touched the golden city. For the nobility, it was nothing more than lip service.

Oh, they could smile and wish him well, but Claude knew there were plots of treachery and treason on those tongues. And it was because of him and his mother. His father’s throne hung by a thread because Mahtab had chosen to marry the woman he loved, and she just so happened to not be Almyran born. So while the nobility smiled, Claude thanked them for their attendance with all the regality a seven year old could muster, matching their toothy lies with his own. Even at this early age, Claude knew navigating his own birthday party was more dangerous than traversing a minefield.

He only let his guard slip once. When Nader and Naima entered, his eyes immediately sought out Byleth. Nader had increased Claude’s training regime, while Mahtab had hired more tutors to instruct his son in different subjects, which had left him with very little time. In the past year and a half he had only managed a handful of brief encounters with Byleth. It didn’t help that Nader rarely brought Byleth with him to court, but those conversations flowed so easily. Byleth, despite all the strangeness surrounding her, was the easiest person to hold a conversation with. She always had some insight that knocked him off his feet and intrigued him all at once.

But Claude still remembered their first meeting, still strove to match her strength. He hoped it would not be much longer now before Nader deemed Claude worthy to train with the older girl.

Claude did a double take when Nader moved, allowing him to lay eyes on Byleth. She did not look like Byleth at all. Naima had done up her long hair in a complex series of braids, piling them all on top of Byleth’s head, save the forelock at the side of her head. Not a hair was out of place, testament to Byleth’s unnatural patience. Claude was simply glad Almyran fashion only dictated he have one braid in his hair. He would have found some way to escape if he had to sit through all that.

The light pastels of her dress were dwarfed by the loud colors of the older women, the gossamer layers piling on color after color to make them all look like songbirds. It was currently the height of fashion in the court at the moment. Byleth skirts floated around her, split on each side up to the hip to reveal light cotton pants beneath. Typical to most Almyran fashion, the skirts were easy to move in, allowing the wearer the full range of motion of their legs should they find themselves in a fight.

Still, Claude had never seen Byleth in anything other than the casual cottons and leather armor Nader provided her. It made sense though that Naima, motherly and proper almost to a fault, would have put her foot down on that one. Byleth looked like a proper noble child, as strange as that was. He never actually considered Nader a proper noble before.

His mother’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, drawing his attention back to the proceedings. “Duty first, my sun. We are almost done now.” Her green eyes glittered like gems in the dying sunlight, laughing at his impatience. People always said he had inherited her eyes, but he thought hers were more lively than his. Perhaps one day, when he was as strong as her, he could pull off that mischievous little twinkle as well.

Claude nodded, and continued to greet the last of the nobles filing into the feast. Already there were loud cheers as the first round of a wrestling tournament began. Some nobles would be late as a show of disrespect, but no one would be late enough to miss the bouts. His uncle, Keveh hot on the older man’s heels, was the last to enter. Their greetings were tinged with teeth clenching politeness, before Keveh was swept away to join the others standing beside the fighting ring. 

“Now, my sun, you may go,” his mother told him.

Claude smiled at her, his grin a smaller version of her own, and slipped from the dais. He weaved his way through the assembled nobles, many distracted by fighting, gambling, drinking, dancing, or some variation of all four. His people certain did know how to throw a party. 

It didn’t take him long before he caught sight of Byleth’s teal hair, all done up in her pretty ribbons. Claude smirked as he began covering the distance to her, the noise of the crowd masking the sound of his approach. When she glanced over her shoulder, perhaps by chance or some supernatural sense Claude did not know she possessed, he ducked behind the legs of taller warriors. When they moved on, Claude cursed under his breath, seeing that Byleth had moved as well. Now he would have to find her all over again.

A tug at his head scarf yanked Claude’s head to the side. “Hey!” he shouted, eyes going wide as he was turned to stare at Byleth.

“Nader needs to work on your stealth skills,” she told him all too calmly.

“Or you just have unnatural powers you’re hiding from everyone,” Claude countered, hands flying to his head to fix the scarf. “And Nader is the last person to teach anyone anything about stealth.”

Byleth blinked at him, as if mulling over his words. It was a look Claude had grown used to whenever he talked to her. “I don’t think I do,” she said eventually.

Claude stared right back at her before shaking his head. She certainly was strange, but that didn’t matter right now. “Come on, I want to show you something.” He grabbed her hand, giving Byleth no chance to argue as they started back through the crowd.

They were at the edge of the terrace when a disgusted shout drew the attention of everyone in the immediate area. Claude grinned when he saw just who was throwing up the fuss. Basir was one of his father’s most prestigious generals, and the most talented when it came to naval warfare. He was responsible for defending Almyra’s northern coast. 

And Keveh had just thrown up all over his shoes. Basir looked at the boy in disgust, cursing again when he noticed sick on the hems of his pants as well. Keveh, for his part, looked torn between mortified and as if he would be sick again. In fact…

Claude bit his lip to hide his laughter as Keveh choked again, vomit spilling from between his fingers as he tried to hold it back, only to succeed in getting more of the disgusting substance on the general.

“Did you have anything to do with that?” Byleth asked softly.

Claude shrugged his shoulders, but Byleth looked far from convinced. “You told me to learn how to survive. Fighting can only take me so far.”

Byleth studied him for a long moment, that look that made it seem as if she were reading his soul. He theorized it was that look that made so many people uncomfortable around her. But Byleth simply nodded after a moment. “Smart.”

His heart leapt at the compliment, and more words spilled out of him before he could stop them. “I started reading one of the healer’s books on herbs. Most of the uses make no sense to me, but each entry comes with warnings.”

“And so you used those warnings to make something to upset Keveh’s stomach.”

“Yeah. I think Goli knows,” Claude said, naming his father’s spymaster. “I asked her a couple questions about dosage, but she won’t say anything.”

“Unless it’s too your father,” Byleth pointed out.

Claude waved it off. “If she mentions it to him, I can handle that. My uncle is giving him so much trouble lately, he’s probably glad Keveh just embarrassed their family. But that’s not what I wanted to show you. Come on.” He grabbed her hand again and dragged her away from the party.

He led her to a sitting room, one reserved only for the royal family and their invited guests. Sitting in the middle of the room upon a plush cushion, was a large white egg. “It’s my father’s present to me,” Claude explained. “It’s a white wyvern egg.”

“It’s large,” Byleth observed. “Normal wyvern eggs are half this size.”

“Have you not seen my father’s wyvern?” Claude asked, continuing when Byleth shook her head. “He’s massive. I’ll show him to you sometime. But this one is mine.” He reached out and touched the shell fondly, brushing his fingers against the rough surface. “I almost didn’t think he’d give me one.”

“Why not? You’ve worked very hard lately,” Byleth pointed out. She reached up a hand to touch the egg as well, pausing until Claude nodded his approval.

“Only kings have white wyverns,” Claude explained, his voice dropping to a whisper. 

“Do you want to be king?”

Claude blinked at her, stunned. No one had ever asked him that before. There never seemed as if he had a choice in the matter. He would become his father’s successor, or he....well, if he didn’t it was most likely because he was dead or in hiding. Claude did not like either of those options. But, did he want to be king?

Before he could answer, the egg rocked beneath their hands, a small crack forming in its surface. Both children yanked back their hands, eyes going wide as the crack got bigger. “It wasn’t supposed to hatch for a few more days!” Claude said softly, watching in awe as a piece of shell fell away. 

“I guess it takes after its master in the surprise category then.”

They sat together in silence upon an intricately woven rug after that, watching the slow process of the baby wyvern working its way out of the shell. There were flashes of white, and tiny ‘meep’ing noises as it worked its way free. He was so eager to meet his wyvern (his wyvern!), but Byleth’s presence beside him kept him from going to the egg and just ripping the shell away himself. His pedar had told him that it was something the wyvern had to do itself in order to build up its strength to survive.

“Claude! We’ve been looking everywhere for you!” his mother’s voice chastised, cutting through the silence. 

Both children’s head whipped toward her, Claude managing a somewhat guilty expression. “Sorry, maman,” Claude said. Despite the limited time he had spent with Byleth, he still felt comfortable enough to use an informal title with his mother in front of her. His mother, however, did not seem to think the same if the way her brows raised were anything to go by. “The egg started to hatch,” he hurried to explain, drawing her attention to something else entirely.

Odette’s gaze went to the wyvern egg, eyes melting at the sight of the almost freed creature within. She swept down to sit behind them, holding both children close as she joined their viewing. Byleth looked startled for the briefest of moments before settling herself at Odette’s side. 

“Well, I guess this is a worthwhile excuse for missing your own party. The hatching of your wyvern is a very important moment, my sun.” 

Claude loved when his mother was like this, when in the privacy of their own family she slipped off the mantle of queen and allowed herself to smile. She spoke to them of stories, telling a slightly different tale of the constellation of the wyvern than Claude’s tutors gave. Her earlier moment of disapproval at Byleth’s presence seemed almost nonexistent, making Claude wonder if he had imagined the whole thing.

The door opened again, and Claude glanced over to see his pedar and Nader silently enter the room. Taking in the scene, they seemed content not to interrupt the queen’s story, and found their own comfortable places to sit. 

The wyvern finally broke free from its shell, tumbling out with a loud cry. Claude rushed from his mother’s embrace to sweep the tiny thing up in his arms. It cried again, happily this time, as it snuggled against Claude’s chest. It tried to burrow into his shirt, seeking the warmth it had enjoyed inside its shell. Claude laughed as its tiny claws tickled his skin, turning to beam at his parents and friends. 

Mahtab nodded to his son, and Claude found himself blinking back tears at the simple gesture of approval. “Very good. He has imprinted on you. Now, it will be your responsibility to raise him until he is ready to join you in your training. He will be your companion in battle, so you must treat him well.”

“I will, pedar,” Claude promised, his voice coming out softer than he would have liked. 

Byleth once more reached out her hand, silently asking Claude’s approval before she attempted to touch the baby wyvern. “Careful,” Claude said, shifting it slightly and causing the dozing creature to make a noise of disapproval.

Byleth nodded slowly, holding her fingers in front of the creature's nose. It sniffed at her uncertainly, but when Claude took her hand and gently placed it against the top of the wyvern’s head, it seemed content enough. As it curled up again, purring happily at the attention, the corners of Byleth’s lips turned upward ever so slightly.

/

Nader joined his friend at the open window, looking out over a slow moving city. Many of the citizens were still in bed, nursing hangovers from yesterday’s festivities. Mahtab did not look up before he spoke, recognizing Nader’s loud footfalls. 

“It seems my son is getting on rather well with your ward.”

Nader paused, every instinct telling him he was walking into an ambush. “Can you blame him?” Nader asked. He tried to pick his words carefully, but politics were never his forte. “He’s young. He needs someone at his side.”

“Did you not see him last night? He’s latched onto her.” Mahtab’s voice quivered ever so slightly. Nader caught it only because he had known the other man for so long. It made Nader pause. His king was afraid.

“She might be good for him.” Nader paused, grabbing two cups from the table set up with refreshments behind the king, pouring them both a generous amount of chilled fruit juice. He practically forced a cup into Mahtab’s hands. “Byleth isn’t there problem here, is she?”

Mahtab took a deep breath, taking a sip of juice as Nader waited for his friend to gather his thoughts. “She’s part of it, but not all. I’m glad Claude has a friend, I am,” Mahtab said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself rather than Nader. “But I’m worried her closeness will have...consequences. My brother is becoming more of a problem each day. I’m worried he’ll use Claude’s connection with Byleth against us.”

“Anyone with half a mind will dismiss that completely. Claude is still a child.”

“A child possibly being influenced by another woman from Fódlan, just like his father,” Mahtab snapped. Nader noticed the bags under his friend’s eyes, and silently wondered when the last time the king had actually slept. 

“She’s a child too!” Nader protested.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mahtab protested. “Those who wish me ill because I chose Odette will simply use it as another excuse.” 

Nader rested a hand on Mahtab’s shoulder, and the other man let his shoulders slump, allowing himself to show how his burdens affected him for once. It only made Nader more worried about Mahtab’s health. As soon as he was done here, he was going to go straight to Odette and work with her on getting the king some rest.

“And I’m worried that if she remains at his side, Rhea will find out about her. I don’t want that - that creature to come after my son,” Mahtab admitted. “We could lose her so fast, and if Claude is attached to her…”

Nader’s hand tightened on his cup, the metal bending under his strength. “Over my dead body,” he growled. “I’m not going to give her up so easily. Rhea and Jeralt will have to fight me if they want to take her away.”

Mahtab relaxed for a moment before he fully processed Nader’s words. “Jeralt? Is he still looking for her?”

“There have been reports,” Nader said slowly, “of Jeralt and his Blades near the Throat. They’ve been asking questions about a baby with blue eyes and hair. Goli has planted some false leads, but it seems they are still operating out of Alliance territory. I don’t think he’ll ever truly give up trying to find her.”

They stared out over the city, Mahtab swirling his juice absentmindedly. “Perhaps we should have changed her name after all. Would have made it easier to hide her,” Nader said softly before draining his cup.

Mahtab shook his head. “I couldn’t do that. It’s the one thing Tess gave to her daughter. I couldn’t take that away from her. No, we’ll come up with something else.”

Well, that was something he did not quite know how to argue against.

Nader remained silent, watching as a smile started to form on the king’s lips. He followed his friend’s gaze, watching as Claude climbed a garden wall. His shirt moved, the white head of his wyvern poking through before he coaxed it back down. He jumped easily off the wall, and rushed off in the direction of Nader’s estate, unburdened by the fear of the future that plagued Nader and Mahtab’s morning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You know how last chapter I said I didn't like writing kids? Well, scratch that. Baby Claude is adorable. And so is Byleth with her freaking cute ribbons. Damn, I wish I could draw because that would be up so fast.

[hedwigstalons]

The Tracy Prize - part 5

Kayo sat at a nearby table, ostensibly reading a magazine but instead following the meeting between the two scientists intently.  She had to hand it to Brains.  Although not comfortable with field work he was managing remarkably well.  

It had been decided beforehand that Brains would not reveal his involvement with the Tracys.  Claire’s rejection of their previous attempts to make contact had shown she was not one to be swayed by the Tracy name; quite the opposite in fact.  Through the careful use of half-truths and omission Claire was under the impression that Brains worked in a small research facility and that his knowledge of her recent work was as a member of the short-listing committee for the Tracy Prize.  It was a plausible cover story and thankfully one that she was not probing too deeply.

The pair chatting over coffee kept the conversation neutral and on safe topics.  They discussed recent well publicised developments in the fields of chemistry, physics and engineering.  Brains soon found he lost his nervousness and was enjoying the chance to discuss his favourite subjects in depth.

His nervousness returned when a slight nod from Kayo indicated it was time to make his move.

“So Claire, seeing as you d-d-didn’t get the Jeff T-T-Tracy grant will you be applying for other funding?  I-I-It looked like an interesting project.”

“No. Everything else seems to come with caveats.  It will be hard work and it will take longer but I’ll continue the research in private around my lecturing until I’m ready to publish under my own terms. The hard part is getting access to the labs”

Here was the opener Brains had been hoping for.  His chance to entice her to the island.

“Aren’t the f-f-faculty supportive?”

“As much as they can be but without the legitimacy of funding I often can’t get a lab slot.  Trust me, I’d be in there now if they weren’t fully booked out.”

“Where I work is small but w-w-well equipped.  You would be m-m-more than welcome to come and use the facilities and there are g-g-guest rooms on site you can stay in.  C-c-call it my way of trying to make up for you m-m-missing out on the main prize.”

Claire swirled the last of her coffee around the cup as though trying to divine the right thing to do from the patterns in the frothy dregs. Brains was quite glad her focus was elsewhere because he was sure his nervousness was etched on his face like a book.

On the one hand she had always said she would work alone but on the other she couldn’t work at all without the right facilities.  She had nothing keeping her in Denver and the change of scene might do her good.  If she could get some lab time it would be a working holiday and if the facilities weren’t suitable she would treat it as a normal holiday and explore the local area.

To her own surprise as much as Brains’ and Kayo’s she found herself agreeing to the visit.  Brains assured her that the flights would not be a problem; they would be on a private supply flight to the facility and she would be able to return to Denver on the next supply run scheduled in about a week.

The pair parted with Claire being instructed to be ready to be collected from her apartment in the morning and to pack for tropical weather.

After a quick detour to her office to alert the faculty to her upcoming absence Claire headed home.  

In anticipation of this being a working holiday the first thing to pack was her work set up.  While her research methods were cutting edge her approach to recording the results was the complete opposite.  It was the reason why Kayo had been unable to find a digital trail of her research.  

In order to maintain her privacy Claire recorded all her results in physical notebooks.  Each night, on returning from the labs she would scan in the pages and save them to her computer, adding them to the research files.  The notebooks were then locked in a fireproof box as a back up record.  The computer itself was a standalone unit.  She had even gone to the trouble of physically removing all wireless cards and drivers.  She packed the computer, scanner and a couple of notebooks into a reinforced flight case.  In a world of holo-computers and 24 hours connectivity her methods were considered not just archaic, but perhaps a little unhinged.  For her it was the only way she felt that her privacy was truly secure from hacking and intellectual espionage.

With the work side of packing completed she threw a few clothes and her lab coat into a separate bag and settled down for an early night.

The following morning Brains collected Claire as arranged and introduced her to Kayo.  Claire hoped she wouldn’t have much to do with the quiet and serious young woman.  Animosity radiated off her and the intense green eyes appraised Claire in a way that left her feeling like her soul had been stripped bare.  It was a relief when Kayo shut herself on the cockpit leaving Claire and Brains alone in the passenger compartment of the jet.  

The flight was smooth and uneventful.  Kayo activated the intercom for the first and only time of the journey to instruct them to fasten seatbelts for landing.  Claire looked out of the window and was surprised to see they were still flying over ocean.   The only visible landmass, a tiny island in the vast expanse of water, was evidently their destination.  She hoped the laboratories were up to scratch because sightseeing was not going to take long.  There weren’t even that many buildings.  The whole place looked more like an upmarket holiday resort than a scientific research facility.

The plane touched down on a tiny runway and Kayo emerged from the cockpit.  She handed Claire a small watch-like device.

“You’re to wear this at all times.”  The instruction was blunt.  The tone was that of someone used to being obeyed.

“What is it?”

“It’s a radio.  If you are anything like Brains you’ll lose track of time.  We’ve found this is the easiest way to remind people when meals are ready.  Saves having to send someone to look for you”

Claire realised that her travelling companions were wearing similar devices. She fastened the strap, unaware that the device also contained a tracker.  It was one of the many security protocols Kayo had insisted on when Scott had announced his desire to bring Claire to the island. Others included initiating Operation Cover-Up and, if possible, ensuring Claire was never left alone in case she wandered in to any of the more sensitive areas.

“Brains?”

“That would be m-m-me.  No-one here c-c-calls me Hiram.”  Brains was quite glad to ditch the pseudonym and reclaim his more habitual moniker.  It would save a lot of confusion.

The exited the plane and Claire breathed a deep lungful of sea air.  It felt good to be out of the city.

A young man with blonde hair and a questionable taste in shirts hurried forwards to greet them.

“Hi, I’m Gordon” he said with a grin.  “I’ve been given unloading duty, worse luck.  You’ll find everyone else in the lounge. They’re keen to meet you.  As you can probably guess we don’t get many visitors here.  You can leave your bags behind, I’ll make sure they get taken to your rooms.”

Gordon disappeared into the cargo area of the plane where he and Kayo started stacking boxes ready for transportation to the various store rooms and hangers around the island.  Brains and Claire were left to make their own way up the house.

“Gordon is out resident m-m-marine expert” Brains supplied.  “We are a small t-t-team so everyone helps out when needed.  He m-m-must have picked the short straw.  We ought head up, we d-d-don’t want to keep everyone waiting.”

As they walked along a meandering path by the shore Claire was suddenly daunted by the prospect of meeting the entire island population in one go.  She tried to quiz Brains about who else was on the island.

“Beyond m-m-myself, Kayo and Gordon there are only four others here p-p-peramently.  It’s p-p-probably best if I let them introduce themselves.”  This was a topic Brains was keen to avoid and he quickly lapsed into silence.

They entered one of the few buildings and Claire was struck by the expense of the place.  This was evidently a residential area.  There was no evidence of offices or workspaces.  No clinical corridors.  She felt like she was intruding in a private home.  A private home for someone very wealthy.  It made her feel uneasy.

The hallway they were in opened out into a large lounge area dominated by a circular area of seating sunk into the floor.  An unusual mix of people occupied the seats.  One teenager, one older lady and a young man.

The man unfolded himself from the seats as she entered.  He was tall and athletic with startling blue eyes.  He quickly crossed the floor to greet her.

“Dr Ashwell, I’m so pleased you came.  I’m Scott.”

Unfortunately for Scott his offered hand was ignored.  Claire was staring straight past him to the far side of the room where a final figure was perched on a piano stool.  Her feelings of unease evaporated and were replaced with full-on defensive mode.  Her attitude became glacial.

“Mr Tracy, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”