#i can always punt something to the next chapter if need be

[wutheringmights]

oh my god i am leaving so much to write until tomorrow (yikes)

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Pt. 3 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, 18+ (mentions of sexual acts), angst, minor injury, alcohol consumption, age difference, jealousy, not edited

Word Count: 5.1k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: A lot of reflection and angst coming for you in this one! I still can't stick with a singular tense so once again, ignore that lol. Thank you all so much for all the love, I hope you enjoy this next chapter! I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two

You could cut the tension with a knife. The volleyball tournament was in full swing and Lewis was doing his absolute best to ignore you in entirety. Not that you particularly wanted his attention at this moment, but he was making it rather obvious to everyone else that something was up between the two of you. You were doing your best to ref the games like Miles had asked, and you felt like you were starting to get the hang of it. It didn’t go unnoticed to anyone that if a call had anything to do with Lewis, he wouldn’t respond in any way, he wouldn’t even look over at you. To the untrained eye it would look like he was simply a sore loser, which to be fair he could be sometimes, but everyone knew that if things were normal, he would be taunting you and throwing things back at you any chance he got. Your heart ached while your mind burned with rage. It had only been a few hours and you already missed him, missed the energy he always carried when he was around you, but with a horny brain, he swiftly ruined it.

Talia had made the ridiculous choice to come down and spend her day on the beach as well. She was sprawled out on a towel like a house cat in a kitchen window. Thankfully, she had set up her stuff further down the beach, far enough that you wouldn’t have to interact with her at all. You couldn’t help but find it both amusing and sickening that on this beach, there were two women that Lewis had slept with, or at least tried to, and now both women were livid. For a man that usually got anything and anyone he wanted, the last three days definitely hadn’t been much of a winning streak for him. You wanted to imagine that his ego was at least bruised, but you knew better than that, he was probably just looking at it as another drop in the bucket. You would both be replaced the second he made it home, hell you could probably be replaced before then.

You were watching the game from your camp chair, trying your best to pay attention, but irritatingly enough, your focus kept returning to Lewis. No matter how mad you were, your brain wouldn’t let you ignore just how attractive he was. This was no time for those thoughts to be bouncing around in your head, you needed to keep his actions in the forefront of your mind, but watching him was inevitable. He was glistening with sweat, his tattoos more prominent in the sheen. His torso was speckled with sand from the times he had tried to dive for the ball and landed flat on his stomach, his swim trunks had started to ride up on one of his thighs, showing off the thick muscles. You were so engrossed in staring at the man who had all your emotions haywire, that you didn’t notice that Miles had accidentally punted the ball directly towards you. 

“Shit, heads up.” You heard him yell, but it was too late as the ball made contact directly with the side of your head.

You let out a shriek before you groaned ,”Fuck.’ Grabbing the side of your head where the ball had collided.

Within seconds, everyone had crowded around you. To your surprise, Lewis was the first one there, on his knees in front of you immediately. His eyes held so much concern as they looked over you as if he was making sure you were in one piece.

“Hey, hey, you okay?” His voice was rushed but soft as he reached out to place his hand over yours on your head, his other hand grabbing your other arm. Any other day you would have been overwhelmed with comfort, but in this moment it just made your head hurt more.

“I’m fine.” Your voice had a bite to it as you brushed him off, moving to try to stand up. You hoped that your aggressive tone would be read as annoyance to getting slammed with a Volleyball.

“Take a second.” Charlotte said softly, placing her hand on your shoulder to push you gently back into the chair.

“I’m so sorry,” Miles said from behind you, his hand coming to rest on your other shoulder, giving it a light pat, “I really didn’t mean to, I would never hurt you on purpose. I feel so bad.”

“It’s okay, it was an accident. I should have been paying more attention.” You reach up to grab his hand, squeezing it gently.

“Well I guess you were right, Volleyball really does end in concussions for you, even when you’re not playing apparently.” Miles laughs, trying to lighten the mood.

“Apparently,” You laugh with him, “I’m gonna go sit in the shade for a little bit, you guys keep playing.”

They all move back a bit to let you stand this time.

“Are you sure? We can head back up to the house if you want.” Charlotte offers, still looking worried.

“No, you guys keep playing, it’s still early. I’ll just be over there,” You gesture your head over towards a shady spot near the path, “and I promise I’ll keep an eye out for runaway balls this time.”

You turn to grab your chair but Lewis has already picked it up and is walking over toward the spot you had mentioned. You realize you unfortunately have no choice but to follow him. As you come up behind him you feel nothing but dread, you don’t want to talk to him right now, about anything really. He wordlessly places your chair in the shade before making his way over to the cooler full of drinks. He comes back with a cold water and a frosty can of something.

“Drink this,” He says putting the water in the little cupholder on the arm of your chair before extending the can to you, “and put this on your head for a little bit.”

You take the can, mumbling a quiet “thanks”. You hope that will be it, that he’ll turn and rejoin the rest of your friends, however, much to your dismay, he squats down in front of you. He holds your eyes with his, staring at you deeply.

“Are you sure you're okay?” His voice is so full of concern that it makes you want to yell at him, instead you just let out a scoff.

“That’s a pretty weighted question right now Lewis.” You say as you shoot him a look.

He grimaces before he shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I-” He starts before he cuts himself off, “Right now I’m worried about your head, that ball is hard and it came in pretty hot. Everything else can wait.”

All you can do is roll your eyes, looking over his shoulder at the ocean.

“I’ve had a fair amount of head injuries myself, I know what to look for, can I?” He continues, doing his best to ignore your attitude.

“Well that explains a lot.” You fire back, finally looking at him again.

You could be wrong but you swear you see an almost smirk on his face as he shakes his head. He raises his eyebrows at you in question, prompting you to actually answer him.

“Fine.” You huff, lowering the can to your side.

He moves in closer to you, just barely, and you can feel yourself tense. He goes through a variety of little tests; making you follow his finger with your eyes, shining his phone's flashlight at your pupils, having you answer stupid questions about yourself and historical events.

“I think you’re alright,” He says with a soft smile as he moves back, patting the outside of your knee, “might have a small bump though.”

“Thanks.” Your voice comes out as barely a whisper as you try to offer the same smile back at him.

He stares at you for a moment longer, making you want to squirm in your seat. He’s looking at you with such care and concern, as if he’s assessing every ounce of you, physical and emotional.

“I really am sorry,” He says softly, “I don’t want to lose you.”

His words make your heart clench but the anger comes back to the surface as you're reminded of the situation he’s put you both in.

“I’m not doing this right now.” You say firmly, attempting to shut him down. This isn’t the time for the conversation you need to have, especially not when his ex is down the beach and all your friends are waiting for him mere feet away.

He nods solemnly, a small frown on his face as he stands up. He takes a few steps backward before pausing, “Let us know if you need anything, okay?”

You simply nod before he turns and runs back toward everyone. You take the time to enjoy the beautiful view of the coast, listening to the sound of the waves crashing in harmony with the joyous laughter of your friends. It’s melancholy, you can already feel a sense of longing for something you haven’t truly lost yet. You’re overcome with a sense of worry, it feels like nothing can ever be the same. You’re worried that you won’t be able to be around him anymore, that he won’t want to be around you and your friends will have to take sides. You know they all love you, but they’ve known him for nearly a decade, you’re still in many senses, a newcomer. Part of you knows it irrational, he evidently still cares about you, but how long will that last before the awkward exchanges and anger override the history of friendship between the two of you. You know Miles and Charlotte would never truly abandon you, but you can’t help but feel nothing will ever be the same.

As you tried to work through your emotions, you felt someone’s presence at the base of the trail. She spoke before you could even turn your head to look at her.

“I’m headed up to finish packing.” She said, you figured she would leave it there but to your surprise she continued, “How’s your head? That looked like a nasty hit.”

You couldn’t mask the shock that was written across your face, she sounded almost compassionate.

“Uh, it’s fine, thanks.” You stuttered out, confused by the interaction.

“Well make sure you keep ice on it, you don’t want a bump.” She offered you a small smile, confusing you even more. Once again you thought that would be the end of the conversation, but no, “And hey, don’t fall for it,” She gestured her head over toward where Lewis was, “it’s amazing until it’s not. You’ll get hurt.”

With that, she simply walks away up the path, leaving you stunned. 

. . .

Everyone is working on making dinner, the house full of music and laughter as Charlotte bosses people around the kitchen. You had tried to help but Miles deemed you “far too injured for manual labor” and parked you on a bar stool at the kitchen island. You had managed to sneak into Lewis’ room, grabbing your stuff and putting it in Charlottes so you could shower without worrying you would run into him. She had given you a questioning look but hadn’t said a word, leaving you to get freshened up. Lewis was nowhere to be seen, you figured he was showering, getting ready to bring Talia to the airport. You’re still not sure why he had offered to drive her, but whatever got her as far away as possible as soon as possible was fine by you. The interaction from earlier was still running through your head on repeat. Her behavior had been almost alien, nothing you had seen from her in the past. Part of you wondered if she was still trying to keep him for herself, scare you away from him, or was she truly offering you advice. Not that you needed it, you were pretty confident you didn’t need to hear it to know what she said was true, which is why the situation hurts so much. 

“Turn the heat down! You’re gonna burn it!” Charlotte just about shrieked as she hip checked Daniel away from his pan, quickly taking over.

He laughed, putting his hands up in false defeat as he made his way over to the bar, happy to be kicked off dinner duty. You gave him an accusatory look, laughing when he shrugged with a smirk, you know he had done it on purpose. You heard the rolling of wheels coming down the hall, Talia emerging with her packed luggage. She gave everyone an awkward smile, holding her hand up in a wave before making a b-line to the front door, not saying a word. Miles looked like he wanted to burst out in laughter, Charlotte elbowing him in the ribs with a glare despite the smirk on her own face. Shortly after, Lewis came down the hall, his keys in hand. He was dressed nice, much nicer than everyone else who was preparing for a night in. He had a colorful silk shirt on, most of the top buttons undone, paired with a pair of perfectly fitted black slacks and dress shoes. He had lots of jewelry on, much more than you’d seen on him in the last few days, a large watch perched on his wrist.

“Well don’t you look spiffy.” Steph teased him, taking a sip of her wine.

“I’m headed to the airport to drop off Talia.” He announced, ignoring Steph.

“Quite the fit for airport duties Bruv.” Miles continued the teasing.

“I’m going out after.” He kept his explanation short, clearly annoyed that he was being questioned at all.

“What?” Charlotte exclaimed, whipping around, “We’re in the middle of making dinner. Not to mention it’s fucking vegan because of you.” She pointed a finger at him.

“Sorry, throw some cream in it or something.” His voice was full of sarcasm and you could tell he was on edge.

“That’s not the point Lewis, you could have told us sooner.” Charlotte stayed strong, her hands on her hips like an accusing mother.

“I’m going to get dinner with-” He hesitated, his eyes shooting around the room before continuing, “with a friend.” He rushed the last bit of his sentence out.

“Oh.” Charlotte seemed content, a look of understanding crossing her face.

“Yeeeahh,” Daniel drawled out, “I’m suuure you are. Dinner.” He chuckled into his glass.

Your stomach flipped at his comment, you wanted to believe that he really was just getting dinner with a friend but the knowing tone from Daniel made you second guess it. The look of guilt on Lewis’ face didn’t help either. You wanted to believe he was a better man than that, but his actions over the last few days have proven otherwise. You wondered if the friend was the  mysterious Marina. You still had so many questions but you were pretty sure you would never get an answer to any of them, especially while you didn’t know where you stood with Lewis. Lewis didn’t say another word, heading toward the door, but Charlotte ran after him. You watched as she wrapped him in a hug, whispering something in his ear before she patted his back and let him go. You gave her a look but she just shrugged.

The atmosphere throughout dinner felt normal, and you were grateful for that. Noone brought up what Lewis was probably out doing, no one mentioned him at all actually, and it felt a little foreign. His absence was noticeable but not abnormal, it was frequent during the season that you would all have dinner without him. 

You later found yourself in the kitchen with Charlotte, tidying up the dishes while people got ready for bed.

“Hey, I know your room is technically open and all but if you still want to room with me, my door’s open.” Her voice was soft and kind, like a hug that you so desperately needed.

“Thank you, I’ll probably take you up on that if you don’t mind.” You sent her a grateful smile, somehow she always seemed to know what you needed, even if she didn’t know why.

“Of course, besides I’m still waiting to cache in on my cuddles.” She teased you gently.

“Oh, how could I forget?” You giggled.

“You go get ready for bed, I’m just gonna finish up out here and I’ll be in, just give me a few.” She nudged you out of the kitchen toward her room.

You did as she said and made your way down the hall. You couldn’t help but stop outside the door to your old room, it was open and you could see the unmade bed from where Talia had slept. It sent pure annoyance through your whole body, if you hadn’t had to change in Lewis’ room you probably wouldn’t be in the situation you are now. You knew it wasn’t fair to blame her for his actions, he’s a grown man who knew exactly what he was doing, but you couldn’t help it. Part of you wondered if she had put the thought of you in his head during her explosion. You never thought he felt that was about you and then all the sudden he had you pinned up against a mirror with his fingers inside of you. It was like a flipped switch that you couldn’t undo, the light was on and it would stay on for good. You tore yourself away from the doorway, making it all the way to Charlotte's room before stopping in the doorway and looking at Lewis’ door across the hall. The door was closed but you swore you could smell him, it almost seemed like he was standing on the other side of the door despite not even being in the house. You could smell the cologne he had put on for whoever he was trying to impress tonight, you could picture him adjusting his collar and placing the chains around his neck just right. You knew just how he would have rolled up the sleeves of his shirt so he could decorate his wrists with diamond bracelets and an expensive watch, exactly how he would slip each and every ring onto his fingers, spinning them until they were the perfect angle. You’d seen him do it all before, waiting for him as you all got ready for a night out, teasing him about taking longer to get ready than you. He would always joke that perfection takes time, winking at you as he would make his way over to you. His hand almost always found your lower back as he would guide you out of the random hotels or one of his homes, meeting your friends in the lobby. Maybe you should have seen it, maybe this was always his plan. He frequently found ways to make sure he was alone with you, having you come over and get ready with him, having the two of you take a separate car than everyone else so you would meet them there. If that had been his plan all along, why didn’t he make his move one of those many nights, alone in his hotel room or in the back of a town car.

Your head feels like it’s spinning as you think through almost every encounter you’ve had with him over the years. You shake away the fogginess, quickly making your way into Charlotte's room. You can feel your cheeks heating up and your eyes getting blurry as you slip into your coziest pajamas. You sit down on the end of the bed, putting your head in your hands. You don’t know how long you sit like that, trying your best to will away the tears that are fighting so hard to fall.

“Hey, honey, what’s wrong?” Charlotte's voice catches your attention.

She moves quickly to sit next to you on the bed, rubbing your back softly. When you finally look at her even more concern washes over her face. You don’t say anything, just shake your head as a single tear falls down your cheek, the lone escapee.

“Y/N, sweetie, talk to me,” She says quietly, “you know you can tell me anything.”

You do know that, Charlotte knows more about you than anyone else. She’s never judged you, never made you feel bad for your feelings, but this feels different. She’s the same person for Lewis, the man that has you in tears.

“I think I should go home.” You croak out, looking away from her.

“What? Are you crazy? Absolutely not,” Charlotte is quick to argue, “Talias gone, we can finally have the vacation we wanted to have.”

“It’s not Talia.” You admit quietly.

“Does your head hurt? We can get you to a doctor here on the island.” Charlotte quickly suggests.

“No, Charlotte, it’s not-” You start,cutting yourself off and dropping your face into your hands once again, “Fuck, I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, why don’t you talk to me about whatever’s going on and maybe I can help you figure it out.” She offers reassuringly, wrapping her arm around you and pulling you in tight, her hand still rubbing your back.

And so you do, you let the tears and the story all out into Charlotte's shoulder. You tell her about the conversation you had with Lewis the night he disappeared, the conversation you overheard between the two of them, what he did later that day, you tell her everything. You tell her about questioning everything about your relationship with him, about wondering if he really wants to be your friend. You tell her about how he tried to take care of you on the beach, about Talia’s comment about him, how you wanted to be sick when Daniel implied Lewis was going out to get laid. You tell her everything that you so desperately needed to get out. Charlotte is good, exactly what you needed as she sits there listening quietly, still just rubbing your back and letting you vent about the whole thing. When you finally stop talking she stays quiet for a moment, just letting you cry into her shoulder.

“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Is the first thing she mutters. It’s then that you realize just how tense she’s become as she listened to you talk, she seems almost as angry as you had been.

You pull away from her, trying to calm yourself down a bit, feeling ever so slightly better having gotten everything off your chest. The anger dissipates from her face when she meets your eyes, being overtaken by comfort and compassion.

“Sweetie, I’m so sorry. I love him like a brother, but he’s a right fucking twat.” She says, rubbing your arm, “You don’t deserve to be in the middle of his stupid fucking shenanigans, it’s so far from fair.”

“I just don’t know what to do, I don’t want to lose him, I don’t want to lose all of you, but I don’t know how that can even happen. Nothing can just be normal again.” You sniffle through your words

“Hey, you are never, ever going to lose us. Especially not me, and I think I speak for Miles as well, we’re not going anywhere. I’m rather confident that if you told the guys about all this they would knock his head in.” She says sternly, making her point clear. 

You let out a half hearted chuckle, knowing deep down that she’s probably right.

“Listen, we all know Lewis is a fuck boy, he has been for years and we all just let him do his thing. But to try to fuck around with someone that we all love, that crosses a line, he doesn’t get to fuck all of this up just because he’s a horny asshole.” She states firmly, her hand resting on your arm.

“You know what I hate the most of all?” You look at her, ready to admit the part you find the most embarrassing, “I let him do it, well up until I didn’t. Not only that, but I liked it, there’s part of me that wishes I didn’t stop him. And I’ve fucking thought about it since.” You scoff at yourself.

“I get it, he has a certain charm to him. He knows exactly how to make people fall to his feet, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. He makes people feel powerful and wanted, it’s addictive, even when you’re just his friend. There’s a certain aspect of being around Lewis that is like the best drug in the world, it’s almost impossible to kick.” She sounds like she talks from experience and you almost can’t help but wonder just how deep the experience is.

She can see the question in your eyes before you even have a chance to whisper it into the air.

“No,” she shuts you down quickly, her hand up in the air to put the thought to rest, “I have never and would never. I just mean the aura of him, even platonically he is impossible to deny.”

You nod, knowing the feeling all too well. Then another thought pops into your head.

“Where do you think he really is tonight?” You ask, not sure you actually want the answer.

“I know where he is,” She assures you but not giving you the information you crave, “he really is with a friend, nothing’s going on.”

“Marina?” You ask timidly.

She nods softly, not saying anything else about it.

“Who-” You start to ask but she cuts you off gently.

“I’m sure you don’t want to, but you should really talk to him about that. It’s not my place to tell.” She says, leaving you with even more questions.

You simply nod, she’s right you don’t want to talk to him about it, but maybe you should.

“I know he fucked up, and I’m pissed at him for it. He deserves a good smack to the head.” She starts making you laugh lightly, “But that being said, don’t question if he cares about you Y/N. I’ve known him for a long time and he doesn’t go out of his way for people he doesn’t care about, his personal time is precious to him and he doesn’t share it with just anyone, well unless they're in his bed I suppose.” She frowns.

“So Talia? He certainly went out of his way for her, he brought her on vacation the same way he brought me.” You point out, not entirely sure if you believe her.

Charlotte laughs, “No he didn’t, he was actually kind of annoyed she was coming at all. She was at his place one morning when he was making the plans and she invited herself. He told her she could come if she figured out her own way here, he was hoping she would give up but as we know she didn’t. He brought you on vacation because he missed you, he talks about you alot.”

“He does?” You ignore the story about Talia, not particularly surprised by it. Him talking to Charlotte about you though, that surprises you.

“Yeah, more than you would expect,” She chuckles, “if you guys spend anytime together I get the full rundown within like an hour. He’s like a teenage girl half the time. He will text me just to check how you’re doing because he doesn’t want to bother you if he knows you’re busy, yet he can’t go a day without knowing you’re alright. I hate to say it Y/N but I do think he likes you, more than you might realize. Unfortunately he’s an idiot who’s been emotionally single for almost a decade and has no idea how to show his feelings like an adult. He jumps to physical, and apparently has the worst timing of anyone on earth.”

Your head is spinning as you process what Charlotte is saying. You know she has an insight to Lewis that you could never dream of and you don’t feel like she has any reason to lie to you, yet you can’t let yourself believe it.

“Listen, it’s not my place to tell you how he feels about you, truth be told I’m not one hundred percent clear, but if I had to put money on it, I would say he really likes you, much more than just a friend. It’s honestly possible he doesn’t even really recognize it himself, like I said, it’s been a long time since he had an emotional connection with someone beyond family and friends, he’s shut himself down to it for a long time. I’m not trying to stick up for him, if you want to say ‘fuck him’ and cut him off, I truly wouldn’t blame you, he treated you like shit even if he didn’t mean to. He fucked up big time and he deserves to sweat, but I think you should talk to him, at least eventually. I know you both care about each other a lot, it would be a shame if it all ended.” Charlotte is calm as she speaks, each word coming out clearly and truthfully.

Her speech has you mind racing, there’s no way he likes you like that. Why the hell would he? He has his pick of the litter and as far as you’re concerned you were an easy target, you fell right into his lap at the perfect time when he wanted a distraction. Yet, on the other hand, it would make everything make a whole bunch more sense; the constant need to be around you, the unnecessary spoiling, the constant physical contact, the flirty messages and comments, the over protective behavior. Everything that you had chalked up to just being his personality, may actually mean something, something that maybe neither one of you really recognized.

“Okay, you’ve had a long day, how about we get some sleep and we deal with all of this tomorrow with a clearer head.” Charlotte suggests when you don’t respond, your mind still doing cartwheels.

You nod, sliding into bed as she takes her spot next to you. She turns off the light next to the bed before wrapping you in a hug. You start to doze off quickly, everything catching up to you.

“No matter what, you’re not going to lose us. I promise.” Charlotte whispers to you.

It’s the last thing you hear as you let yourself fall into a much needed deep sleep.

[drippingmoon]

Shared Traits Tag Game

My time to overshare has come, so thanks for the opportunity, @dontjudgemeimawriter!<3 I've changed my approach to creating characters since the days when I was working on Spirit, so while this was a good exercise, it was also a bit surprising to see the results 🤔

To be fair, one trait I've always shared and always will share with my characters is the baseline idiot value that gets triggered randomly and applies a 3-chapter detour debuff 🤣

Not too long, but putting it under a cut because feeling like it. Anyhow, leaving this one fully open and joinable:)

Anne: extremely rose-tinted lenses -> not much room for finding me in her. And that was a very comforting thing tbh. I've never created a character I can love as much as her y'all🥺 she's my mental refuge and I think half of the reason why she's so fascinating is that she's so different, yet feels familiar to me. But, oh, I like to think we both take things in stride (she's in her own league though lol), and we're both also pretty damn good at entertaining ourselves when alone

Tyrone: gave him my early fear of shadows and being alone, he took my stubbornness with his own grabby hands aaand his innate shyness (omg don't I know exactly why he gets like that when he talks to Anne). Now I'm wondering if I was half as random as a kid as he is lol. Oh oh, and we both love to laugh

Malchior: he's the least like me. When creating him I wanted an angel/deity I could actually love and see why they were revered, so it definitely didn't leave much room for me lol. Oh, okay, I gave him my crippling self-awareness coupled with a good dose of anxiety 🤣 watch him go up in flames if something socially unexpected happens

The Mother: this feels like I'd be insulting myself 🤣🤣 but I guess we both had high aims, often believed we take on more than we actually could, that we were better than we actually were (swollen heads galore? you bet). We're both also very much not good with feelings, tho I like to analyze mine while she... drops the hot potato into boiling water lol... okay damn after Imera she's the most relatable to me. I need a moment to process this

Imera: I probably owe him a formal apology for dumping all my grief on his unsuspecting, punt-able head. He's not a simp for Anne so maybe we aren't that similar and watch me punt him some more next draft 😒 he's a self-sufficient lil bastard full of spite who yearns to leave and that's all on me; we're also pretty good at reading people funnily enough

Yres: gave her my soft voice *and* made her the leader of the choir just for the sheer satisfaction 😌. In real life I'm very tired of people telling me to speak louder. I also used her yell some about poor eyesight and why it sucks

Bonus for Late: we've both been told pretty often that we're not like people expected us to be. As for whether it's a bad or a good thing, I'll leave it to interpretation 🤣

[shyficwriter]

Temporary Home: Chapter 10

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!)

Summary: The prank war has an unfortunate outcome and Rocket has a run-in with a raccoon.

Previous Chapter here | Next Chapter Here Or click here to: Start From Beginning

Author's note: Thank you to @maribatshipper for the suggestion for the raccoon scene and a prank idea! And thank you to all the others who have suggested scenes they'd like to see in this series! (I'm still working them in!) Everyone feel free to send me anything else you'd like to see happen in this story, it might take me a bit to work certain things in, but I'll try to add as many as I can!

Word Count: 6,114

You slept-in the next day, as did Yondu, though he slept in a bit later due to having waited up for several nights before finally being able to catch you sneaking out.

When he did finally wake up the first thing he saw was you oiling the hinges to your bedroom door.

The two of you locked eyes on his way to the bathroom, no words exchanged. Just you very deliberately not stopping in your actions with an almost defiant look and him shaking his head with a half-laughed huff because you both knew why you were doing it.

***

Peter and Kraglin wasted no time continuing the prank war. Kraglin attempted to whoopee cushion you at breakfast, but you had seen it and decided to eat your apple standing against the counter.

He then later got you with the same ice trick you had pulled on Peter the previous night. Well, almost the same trick. Jackass actually stood there and kept the ice pressed to the back of your neck for a bit while you seized up and tried to escape the cold sensations before eventually letting it fall down the back of your shirt. He laughed the whole time, Peter too. You hadn't seen him open the freezer so he and Peter must have planned it out before you got into the kitchen, arranging for Kraglin to do it instead, knowing you'd likely suspect Peter.

Your thoughts were that you needed to plot some revenge as you made your way out of the kitchen, but they were interrupted as you walked into the sitting room and Rocket confronted you.

"Hope ya don't think you can bribe me with a new bed to get me to like you."

You crossed your arms and feigned a mildly confused look, saying flatly, "I don't know what you're on about."

Peter and Kraglin make their way past you to sit on the couch, throwing a glance to you and the raccoon as if to gauge the situation. Everyone knew that you and Rocket weren't exactly on friendly terms, and to see you facing each other down inspired a degree of concern.

Rocket scoffed. "There was a new bed in my room last night, where else would it have come from?"

You shrug. "Haven't a clue."

Kraglin now threw a glance at you. He knew you said you weren't going to say anything about it, but he hadn't expected for you to actually outright deny you had done it when asked.

"Oh, so it just magically appeared then?" Rocket said sarcastically.

"Looks like it."

"What's going on?" Gamora asked as she entered the room, eyeing the two of you to see if she needed to help diffuse anything.

Rocket ignored her. "Beds just don't appear out of thin air!"

"Apparently they do," you replied.

Gamora tilted her head back in understanding, and then made her way over to the table where Yondu was sitting and playing with Groot. This didn't appear serious, so she wasn't going to get involved.

When she sat Yondu whispered over to her, "What're they carryin' on about?"

She didn't get a chance to answer because Rocket then yelled, "DON'T CALL ME A RACCOON!"

What had happened was Rocket said, "They do not!" in response to your claim that beds could just magically appear. It couldn't have been one of the others, it's not like they could leave to go buy one, so it had to be you, and it pissed him off that he was so sure and more frustrated that you wouldn't just admit it. He felt like you were making fun of him, calling him stupid for insinuating he would believe in something as dumb as a magically appearing bed.

To be honest, you weren't even fully sure why you were denying it yourself. You had just wanted to set it up and be done, and you were annoyed by him insisting that you admit you had done something nice for him, especially if he was now going to accuse it of being bribery.

You replied, "Why would I have done it? I don't even like you."

Rocket was only growing angrier, crying out, "I know it was you! None of the others could have done it, and I would have seen if one of those SHIELD people showed up with it!"

You shrugged then responded with, "I don't know what to tell you, I'm not in the business of making beds for raccoons."

You knew you were being a little mean. You had called him a raccoon once already, shortly after he arrived, and received a very curt scolding from him for it. You had also seen how it pissed him off when Peter called him that, always angrily insisting that he wasn't a raccoon. So, you had expected him to be a little miffed.

You hadn't expected him to snap and actually lunge for you.

You dodged just in time, luckily, and he landed on the floor, growling at you.

Peter yelled at him to knock it off and Rocket retorted back that you deserved it.

You just stared him down and said, "I'll punt you across the room next time, you little shit!" Why had you taken the time to make him a bed again?

"Alright, break it up!" said Kraglin firmly, standing up to show he meant business, used to having to break up Ravager fights and easily falling back into the old role of neutral mediator.

"Gladly," you say bitterly, turning to leave the room.

Rocket grumbled something unintelligible and walked in the opposite direction, hopping up into the rocking chair to sulk.

***

You went back and forth with Peter and Kraglin with the pranks most of the rest of the day, and it actually helped improve your mood about the Rocket situation, or at very least took your mind off it.

You got them back around lunch when you squirted some lemon juice in Peter's soda when he wasn't looking, and smeared jam on the inside of the handle of the fridge knowing Kraglin was about to make a sandwich. The looks on their faces were satisfying, but you discovered their way of getting you back later was to leave two glasses of water on the table. Upside down. With a note that read, "Have fun! Don't get wet! -Peter and Kraglin"

You didn't have fun, but at least a bath towel made into a makeshift dam around the glasses kept you from getting too wet.

You immediately thought of a way to get them back. Unfortunately it didn't work quite as planned.

That evening, sometime after supper when you finished washing the plate you had used, you placed a piece of duct tape just over the spout of the faucet, so that it was only mostly covering where the water came out. This way, when the water was turned on, it would spray directly onto the victim.

You knew that Peter or Kraglin would likely be the next ones to use the sink, as they had made their own dinner just after you had and were just starting to finish up.

You left the kitchen and went to the sitting room, pretending to look for a book to read but in reality you were eagerly waiting for the screams as one or both of the guys met their fate with an unexpected shower. You even considered returning to the kitchen once it happened just so you could tease them on not following their own advice, referencing the note attached to their previous prank about 'not getting wet.'

Not too long and your desires were met, however, the voice behind the cries wasn't the one you had intended to hear.

A loud, angry, bellowing of, "DAMMIT QUILL!" could be heard from the kitchen and your eyes went wide.

Oh no.

That was Yondu's voice. Apparently he had fancied a glass of water and got in the way of the prank, becoming its unintended victim.

You quietly made your way out the sitting room door, hearing Yondu scolding that Peter needed to grow up and then Peter saying, "I swear! I didn't do that one!"

You made it to the front door and heard Kraglin's voice defending Peter, "No, for once he didn't, sir. I've been with him all day! Pete didn't do that."

You quickly and quietly opened the door and escaped just in time to hear Yondu calling your name.

***

You decided it was probably safe to re-enter the house perhaps half an hour later after taking the time to do some light archery practice.

You were greeted inside by Mantis who was apparently coming to look for you anyway to see if you wanted to play a game of UNO.

You eyed her suspiciously, remembering the last time someone sent her to invite you for something. You lean in close to her and quietly say, "Before I say yes, I want you to answer honestly. Did Kraglin or Peter send you, and is this another trick?"

Mantis shook her head. "No, Gamora sent me. She said nothing about a trick."

You thought for a bit. Mantis didn't seem the type to flat-out lie, and Gamora already said she didn't get involved in Peter's mischief, so you decided it was safe and agreed.

Mantis grinned wide and took your hand, practically dragging you to the sitting room and exclaiming to the others upon entry that you had said yes to playing.

At the table you saw Gamora, Drax, Peter and Kraglin. You didn't know where the others were, but you thought it was probably better that Yondu was elsewhere just in case he was still cranky about getting caught in the line of fire. You also didn't feel like dealing with Rocket.

Gamora and Peter sat on one side of the table, with Drax at one end. Kraglin sat opposite of Peter and Mantis was about to take the seat across from Drax, only just releasing your hand when you realized the only other seat would be between her and Kraglin. You eyed him and said, "Do you promise to behave yourself if I sit here?"

Kraglin feigned being offended. "Of course, ma'am!"

You narrowed your eyes but went to take a seat hesitantly. Out of the corner of your eye you could see him reach his hand out toward your chair, thinking that you weren't looking. If the last couple days had gone any differently you might have thought he was going to try a creepy move and grab your ass, but you had a feeling that wasn't what he was going for.

Kraglin was startled when your hand suddenly darted to grab his wrist and pulled it up above the table.

Just what you thought. Whoopee cushion.

"Aha! Behave my ass!" you scold, ripping the whoopee cushion from his hand easily in his shock and sitting down. "I'm keeping this," you taunt, mimicking what said the other day when he took possession of it from you. You stuck your finger in the opening to quietly release the air from the sack and stowed it away in your pocket as he pouted.

Gamora narrowed her eyes at Kraglin. "You two said you were going to behave." She wasn't referencing how you had made Kraglin promise before sitting down, but rather she had actually made Peter and him promise that they would behave and not cause mischief during the game while Mantis fetched you, wanting to try and make friendly with their host with a game without their shenanigans. Honestly, she wasn't sure why she believed them.

Kraglin grumbled what sounded like a "Sorry, ma'am." and Peter changed the subject by starting the game.

Surprisingly they did behave while playing. All six rounds of it before everyone was tired of playing and decided to pack it up.

***

You had just finished washing up for bed and were exiting the bathroom when a cry to "watch out!" made you turn just in time for a giant spider to fly towards your face.

You realized too late it was only Peter throwing the rubber spider at you.

Too late to stop yourself from shrieking as you batted it away, too late to prevent your loss of balance as you reared back, much too late to stop your socks from slipping on the hardwood floor or you from falling backwards, and unfortunately much, much too late to stop yourself from a poor landing where you tried to catch your fall with your outstretched hand only to be met with blinding pain.

Your eyes rolled back and you couldn't even scream, the sound caught in your throat as if the pain were strangling you.

Peter realized his prank had gone wrong when instead of yelling at him, you only rolled to one side and muted gutted noises came out of your throat as you held your arm.

"Crap! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! That wasn't supposed to happen!" Peter cried, rushing toward you on the floor. Kraglin's voice could also be heard apologizing, footsteps coming from his and Yondu's room where he and Peter had been waiting for you to be done with your shower so they could perform what was supposed to be just a harmless jump scare.

Finally finding your voice you yell, "Don't touch me! Get the fuck away from me!" as Peter knelt down. Your senses were blurred into only pain and rage. Your only thoughts were "go away" and 'fix arm, stop pain.'

More apologies poured from their lips as you tried to right yourself up with only one arm as you couldn't bear to move the other.

Peter tried to help you up but you only kicked him away, still blinded by pain and rage. "I said don't fucking touch me!" Eventually you were able to use the nearby wall to use to crawl into a standing position while the other two made pleas for you to let them help, for you to calm down, and something about dislocation. You couldn't really think clearly enough to sort out what they wanted, and only kept (figuratively) pushing them away as you made your way to your bedroom door where Mantis was now standing looking concerned.

You could just make out other voices, but didn't have a clear understanding of what they were saying or what they wanted either. You were only focused on one goal, and that was getting to your room to assess your arm.

Mantis readily moved aside so you could enter, but then remained in the doorway once you entered, unintentionally preventing you from being able to close the door. You look at her, saying firmly, "In or out. Pick one."

Looking a little frightened, she chose out, and you slammed the door behind her, locking it out of instinct more than clear thinking.

Almost immediately there came pounding on the door, and Peter's shouts that you needed to come out and let someone help you.

"Fuck off! I've got it!" you yell back.

Outside the room was a mess of concern. Gamora stood in the doorway of her and Peter's room, yelling at Peter and Kraglin from across the landing for their foolishness once she realized well enough what had happened. Yondu was standing on the stairs, having heard the loud thump of a body hitting the floor and then you yelling at someone to get away. He came to investigate only to find the scene before him.

Mantis, intimidated by the yelling, sought comfort from Drax who was standing in his doorway wondering what in the world was going on.

Rocket had momentarily stepped out of the room with Groot to see what the commotion was about, but upon realizing it was you just waved the situation off and returned to the room. Not his problem.

Yondu asked Peter what all the fuss was about and Peter admitted that he and Kraglin had fucked up a prank and it lead, to what looked to Peter, you dislocating your elbow, and then you locked yourself in your room. This explanation made Yondu join in with Gamora's scolding.

Inside your room you assessed your arm. Nothing was broken, but the elbow was indeed dislocated. You felt sick, mostly from the pain but also from the unsettling feeling of having a bone out of joint. You knew what you needed to do, you just wished you had a shot or two of whiskey in you first.

Back outside the room Yondu scolded both Peter and Kraglin, telling them that he was putting a stop to this prank war. Gamora agreed, stating that it had gotten out of hand when the guys tried to argue that it was just an accident.

Yondu attempted to knock on your door and convince you to come out, but you wouldn't bite, calling back through the door that you had it handled and for everyone to leave you alone.

Yondu glared through the door at your stupidity. He thought you were acting like a child. "Ya need someone to help ya put it back in place, now get out here. That's an order!" That last line was mostly from habit, and it got pretty much the response anyone would have expected from you.

"I don't take orders from you!"

Yondu growled, not exactly used to being defied, especially not the rare occasions he was actually trying to be helpful. He'd seen his share of dislocations, both from his crew and their victims. It was never pretty. "Well ya can't just haul up in there like a wounded animal!"

You rolled your eyes inside your room, fighting the churning in your stomach as you positioned yourself for the unpleasant task, nestling the inner elbow of your injured arm against one of the short posts of your bed's headboard. You took several deep breaths, trying to gather the courage to do what needed to be done.

After a few moments of you not responding Yondu beat on the door again. "Ya better not have passed out in there!"

You groan and say, "I'm fine! Give me a minute to handle it!"

Before anyone can speak again a pop followed by a cry of pain and a string of curses was heard from your side of the door.

Yondu stepped away from the door and rubbed his face. "I don't believe it. She actually did it." he said in disbelief.

Peter approached the door. "Hey! Hey! You alright?"

More curses, followed by, "I told you I had it handled. Now piss off."

Yondu just shook his head and retreated to his room after that, muttering that you were insane and followed by a remorseful looking Kraglin.

Peter also went back to his room feeling guilty and receiving a scolding look from Gamora as well as an earful once they closed the door.

After a bit Drax convinced Mantis to also go back to your shared room, only planning to return to his once he was sure you'd let her in.

You heard a gentle knock and a soft voice asking, "Can I come back in now?"

You considered telling her no, that she chose 'out' so she could stay out, but now that a bit of pain had subsided and your mind was starting to clear you had the presence of mind to realize that you'd only be being a dick by doing that, so you got up and unlocked the door for her.

She entered sheepishly, asking if you were ok, clearly seeing the pain in your eyes.

"I'm fine, Mantis," you say curtly, tucking yourself into bed the best you could, settling for lying on your back with your arm resting on your stomach. "Go to sleep."

Mantis turned off the light and quietly crawled into her own bed. You could feel her staring at you as you stared at the ceiling and waited for sleep.

***

The next couple days you mostly stayed in your room, leaving only to shower, use the restroom, and eat. You knew with that kind of injury you weren't supposed to use your arm for a bit if you wanted it to heal, and that knowledge irritated you to no end.

You couldn't tend the garden, you couldn't practice your archery, or anything else that required the use of two hands. So, you just sulked in your room listening to music and reading.

The first day nobody bothered you much, sensing that you were very cranky. Peter tried to ask to look at your arm, but you ignored him, and he didn't press it. Gamora had later tried to tell you that you needed to splint your arm, and Yondu added that if not that then you at least needed to keep it in a sling, but you only sighed at them at took your glass of juice to your room, much to Yondu's irritation.

The second day they started getting more insistent when by around noon it became clear that you intended to stay in your room all day again. Yondu grumbled again to Kraglin that you were hiding away like a wounded animal. However, realizing that you'd only get mad if they all kept hounding you, they collectively decided to send Gamora in.

They knew you wouldn't listen to Peter or Kraglin since the injury was their fault and you were understandably not really talking to them right now. Mantis might have been a decent choice since you didn't ever really get angry at her, but she had no basic medical knowledge, so she was off the table. Yondu also could have been a decent second choice, but everyone, including himself, knew he wouldn't have the patience to deal with you if you started refusing to listen to reason.

Gamora went up to your room and took it as a good sign that the door was open. She peered inside to see you sitting at your desk and knocked on the doorframe.

"What?" you asked, not looking up from your book.

"I just wanted to-"

"If this is about my arm again, it'll be fine." you say stubbornly.

Gamora entered your room without bothering to ask permission. "If you just let me look-"

"No." you say curtly.

Gamora took a breath. "We really do just want to help you."

"I don't need it. I've been fixing myself up all by myself for a long time. I don't need help now."

"Look, I can't force you, but please understand that it's not weakness to accept help."

You finally look at her, your expression hard. "I never said it was. Just said I didn't need it."

Gamora stared back at you. You were just so stubborn. Reminded her of a few people she knew... if she were honest. One being herself. There was a time where she had believed if she couldn't solve every problem on her own, it made her weak. This wasn't helped by the fact Thanos raised her to be an assassin, and punished such weakness. However, after she joined the Guardians, after she found a family, she came about unlearning that. It was ok to need help sometimes. It didn't make you weak. She only wished she could help you realize it, but she knew that pushing wasn't going to make it happen. You needed to get there on your own. You needed to trust them.

"Ok," she relented, "but know if you ever do need our help, we're here, alright?"

You shortly nod and turn back to your book. "Got it."

She then left you alone. Sometimes, to get someone to come to you willingly, you needed to give them space.

***

The next time anyone saw you was late that evening when you finally decided to eat something for supper. You were in the mood for peanut butter and jam, though opening the jars proved tricky for obvious reasons, but you managed.

You were in the kitchen having just finished your sandwich when Drax came in the kitchen. He looked around a bit before asking if you had seen Rocket. You hadn't, but before you could say as much you heard the sound of growling followed by Rocket's voice shouting, "Fuck off!"

Your eyes flew wide and you bolted for the door, throwing it open to see Rocket fighting with another raccoon a few meters away, rolling on the ground with Rocket cursing up a storm as the raccoon snarled and snapped at him.

You swore, and pushed past Drax to grab the old shot gun you left hidden in a cabinet near the back door along with a couple shells and ran back outside.

You popped the shells in and took aim, trying to get a shot where you wouldn't hit Rocket along with the other raccoon. Your aim was a little shaky due to your injured arm, the shot gun being just heavy enough to make steadying it with that arm a task, even with the adrenaline dulling the pain. You were worried you might accidentally shoot Rocket, but you had to take the shot. If you didn't, and the raccoon bit him, he would likely be as good as dead anyway.

In what was likely seconds but felt much longer, you managed to line up a shot when the raccoon managed to pin Rocket on his back, the wide body of the raccoon up in the air providing a target that with your SHIELD honed skills would be as easy as hitting a cow's ass with a shovel on a normal day. With your injury, however... well, you could still make it. You had to.

You took the shot. The crack rang loudly through the evening air and the raccoon fell off of Rocket and onto the grass, dead.

Rocket's attention turned to you as you lowered the shotgun and quickly approached him, he was about to snark off that he had it handled when you said in a firm but yet still slightly worried sounding voice, "Did it bite you?"

He sat up irritably but didn't answer. He didn't need you of all people to save him. He looked down at his body. There was blood, but it looked to be just the after spray from where you shot the animal. Terran weapons were clearly messier than blasters.

"Did it bite you?!" you ask more urgently.

He looked himself over. "No? What's it to you anyway? I had it handled!"

"Raccoons carry rabies, you dipshit!" you scold. Removing the other shell from the gun you tell him to get inside.

"I'm not a raccoon! And I don't have whatever rabies is!" Rocket shouted at you angrily. "And I don't take orders from you!"

You groan. You didn't have time for his bellyaching right now. "You utter gobshite! I'm not talking about you! I'm talking about that!" you point to the now very dead raccoon, and just to be mean you threw in a, "You know, that fucker there that looks exactly like your furry ass!" He glared at you but you didn't care. "They carry rabies! Now get inside so we can get you looked over and you better hope like hell it didn't bite you."

Rocket grumbled and started walking back to the house, making sure to complain just loud enough for you to hear that he was going because he wanted to, not because you told him too.

You follow behind him. You would dispose of the dead raccoon in a bit.

"That was an amazing shot." Drax told you as you walked by. "I was sure you would have hit Rocket."

"Not now, Drax, please." you say, walking past him.

You got inside to find that the gunshot had attracted an audience, and everyone else was now in the kitchen wondering what had just happened. You put the shotgun and shell back in the cabinet, making a mental note to clean it later. It had belonged to your father, and never saw much-or any really- use from you as there wasn't exactly a lot to need defending from, wildlife-wise, where you lived. Hell, you couldn't even remember the last time you had even seen a raccoon around before tonight, and even when you had you never needed to defend yourself from one. If you left them alone, they returned the favor.

You turn back from the cabinet and lock eyes with Rocket. "Now are you going to let someone check you over or..." you left the question hanging, your tone clear that there was no 'or.' He was going to get checked out. You tried to ignore the irony and your own hypocrisy.

"What happened?" Gamora asked.

"He got attacked by a raccoon." You answered.

Rocket indignantly spoke up. "I had it handled!" He heard Peter snickering and he snapped, "What?!"

Peter just shook his head and quipped, "Already fighting with family..."

Rocket growled. "Shut up, Star-Munch!"

"Table. Now. You need to get checked out. Quit stalling," you command, irritation and exhaustion present in your voice. "I'm not even kidding."

"So what if it did bite me? How bad could rabies possibly be?" Rocket snarked.

"What's rabies?" asked Drax.

You sigh and say flatly, "A very horrible way to die." You look to Peter, thinking that maybe you had a way to get through to Rocket, and ask, "You ever see Old Yeller?"

"Yeah..." Peter answered, though seeming slightly unsure.

"You remember what happens to the dog?"

His eyes widen a bit. "Yeah..."

"Then will you please explain to him why this is serious?"

Peter looked at an annoyed Rocket. "Dude, she's right. Just let us see."

Rocket rolled his eyes and hopped on the table. "Fine! But only to get you all to stop whining."

Peter checked him over, as it was silently agreed with a nod that Rocket would trust him more. While he checked Rocket you thought to ask if he was given any vaccinations when they got here. Peter said that everyone had, but they had been given so many that they weren't sure what they all were.

You knew that Fury should be stopping by the next day for a weekly check-in, and said you'd contact him to suggest a booster for Rocket just in case.

Luckily, Rocket was bite-free, and he gloated as much. "See! I told you! I had everything under control!"

You roll your eyes. "Right. That's why the raccoon had you pinned under it, then. Yeah?"

"Did not!" Rocket protested.

"Well you certainly weren't having a cup of tea, were you?" you said, the tone in your voice saying that you were done.

Drax spoke up. "It's true. The beast was winning."

"It was not!"

"Enough," you say. "Go get cleaned up. I'm tired of hearing you. "

After he skulked off Gamora asked, "Just out of curiosity, what would have happened to him if he had gotten bitten."

You avoided telling her. "He wasn't, but I'm going to take the animal into town in the morning to see if it was rabid. Just in case."

Gamora asked again. "What would have happened?"

You frown. You didn't know how to put it delicately, and the others could tell you were trying and it worried them. Your eyes meet Peter's.

His eyes widened in understanding. "We can't do that to him." Peter said, shaking his head.

Yondu spoke up for the first time. "Do what?"

You frown. "Just calm down. He wasn't bitten. We won't have to."

Yondu sounded more irritated. "Do what?"

You sigh and look to the ground for a moment before looking back up to answer, "If he had gotten bitten, and he hadn't already received a rabies vaccination..." You pause, choosing your words carefully, "the only merciful thing to do... would be to put him down."

"Put him down?" asked Drax.

You pinch the bridge of your nose. "Do I really need to spell it out for you?" You kept your voice down, afraid to say it too loud and for Rocket to hear. "We'd have to kill him. There's no cure, and if we didn't, he'd go rabid, and die horribly." You saw the horrified looks on the other's faces and repeated, "But he wasn't bitten, so that doesn't have to happen. He'll be fine. I'm just going to check with Fury that he was given the shot, and if he wasn't I'll make sure he gets one, just in case. Ok?"

They seemed to relax slightly and you stated that you were going to go take care of the raccoon corpse in your yard, mostly to just get away from the situation and hoping they would have dispersed when you got back.

You didn't even get to take three steps before you felt someone grab your arm. Luckily it wasn't your bad one. "What the hell?" you ask irritably, turning to see it was Kraglin, who had been so quiet the whole time you actually hadn't noticed him.

"I really don't think you should be doing that. If it was big enough to pin down Rocket, then it's too big for ya to be lifting with your arm injured how it is."

You sigh angrily and try to pull away, but his grip held firm. Strong for a skinny guy, you thought. "Let go." you say, irritation thick in your voice.

"No. If this is the only way for you to take it easy and let us help, then I ain't letting ya go til you agree to step back."

You look at the others and you can tell they aren't going to be on your side. You roll your eyes and focus them on the space above Peter's head, where you could see where the ceiling met the wall. "You can't help if I can't unlock the shed," you say, hoping to appeal to their sense.

"Fine," Peter said. "But I'll do the lifting. It's mostly my fault you got hurt anyhow."

"Fine," you grumble, just loud enough to be heard and for Kraglin to release you.

You lead the way out the door, Peter, and also Kraglin and Yondu who wanted to see the raccoon, following behind. Gamora and Drax stayed behind to make sure Mantis and Groot were ok, seeing that they looked a bit shaken.

You instruct none of them to touch the corpse and unlock the shed, turning on your phone's flashlight and pointing out an old box and a shovel to Peter.

"Wow, you've got a nice workshop in here," Peter said, noting the various saws and tools set up around the room that he could make out in the dim light.

You used to make things with your dad and brother growing up, and had inherited most of the tools inside, but instead of traveling down memory lane you just told Peter, "Another day. Let's get the raccoon sorted, please."

Peter obliged and grabbed the items so you could finish the task at hand.

Yondu and Kraglin were staring at the raccoon when you returned.

"Thought it'd be bigger." Kraglin said, cocking his head.

He was right. It did look smaller now that it was dead, but it was still a decent size.

Peter unceremoniously scooped it up with the shovel and dumped it in the box.

"We should probably keep that in the shed until morning," you said, "I don't want it stinking up the car overnight. I can wash the blood off the shovel real quick-" You reached for the shovel but Peter handed it off to Kraglin instead. You looked at them in annoyance. "I'm not helpless, you know."

"And it won't kill you to accept some help, girl," retorted Yondu, fed up with your stubborn attitude.

You roll your eyes and call after an already retreating Kraglin, "Try not to tangle yourself up in the hose this time!" You could see him bristle at the taunt, but he ignored you.

After everything was back in the shed and you locked it up everyone headed inside. The others were nowhere to be seen and you assumed they had all decided to just go to bed, in which you also followed suit, but not before sending a quick text to Maria (Yes, you had said you'd contact Fury, but Fury doesn't exactly text) asking about the vaccination situation surrounding Rocket.

You hadn't expected an answer so late at night, but she responded asking what had happened, correctly assuming that you wouldn't be asking unless something had.

You kept it short. Said you shot a raccoon and wanted to be sure Rocket had his shots.

She didn't respond, and you couldn't help but wonder if that was a bad sign.

[princessofmerchants]

what’s the firebird fairytale retelling

Image Details: "BILIBIN, Ivan [Ива́н Я́ковлевич Били́бин] (1876-1942). 🇷🇺 Ivan Tsaryevich-Grey Wolf-Firebird, 1899." by Halloween HJB is marked with CC0 1.0

Hello! The Firebird is a figure in Slavic / Russian folklore, and there are many translations and versions of a story that features this character. Many of them also feature a character named Ivan, and the famous ballet retelling of it includes the evil sorcerer Koschei as the antagonist who has captured thirteen princesses, and the Firebird helps Ivan free them by defeating Koschei.

I am not an expert on all versions, but I read a novel retelling of the story, Firebird by Mercedes Lackey, many years back and the version of the story she draws on has Ivan (in her story, called Ilya) as a maligned youngest brother of many brothers who are all bullies to him for his interactions with the Firebird, before he sets off on the adventure that brings him to the realm of Koschei.

But if I were to guess, if SJM draws from any version it will be The Firebird ballet by Stravinsky. I will grab a few quotes from that Wikipedia page that summarize the ballet's story and bold the details that map to what we know about Vassa and Koschei, from Elain's seer visions and from Vassa’s own words about Koschei in ACOWAR:

The ballet centers on the journey of its hero, Prince Ivan. While hunting in the forest, he strays into the magical realm of the evil Koschei the Immortal, whose immortality is preserved by keeping his soul in a magic egg hidden in a casket. Ivan chases and captures the Firebird and is about to kill her; she begs for her life, and he spares her. As a token of thanks, she offers him an enchanted feather that he can use to summon her should he be in dire need.

Prince Ivan then meets thirteen princesses who are under the spell of Koschei and falls in love with one of them.

Then later:

Exhausted, the creatures and Koschei then fall into a deep sleep. While they sleep, the Firebird directs Ivan to a tree stump where the casket with the egg containing Koschei's soul is hidden. Ivan destroys the egg, and with the spell broken and Koschei dead, the magical creatures that Koschei held captive are freed and the palace disappears. All of the "real" beings, including the princesses, awaken ...

I don't believe SJM will do a literal retelling but instead, similar to what she did with Beauty and the Beast and the legend of Tam Lin in ACOTAR (the first book), draw on elements from the source material but combine it with her own world building to tell us a new version. The only players I feel sure would play a role in a retelling of this in the ACOTAR universe are Lucien (Ivan/Ilya), Vassa (the Firebird), and Koschei (Koschei). 

More thoughts after the break that contain ACOSF SPOILERS about my ideas for what could happen in future books, given the above lore I think SJM is drawing on.

What I would LOVE is, if Lucien goes on an adventure to Koschei's lake on the continent to face Koschei in order to free Vassa, that Elain would join him, perhaps from two motivations: 

1) To offer her seer powers in aid of this mission that would track back to the wider plot conflict already set up, with the remaining human queens, Fae wanting to land grab in the human realms (e.g., Beron), the Trove, and of course, Koschei; and, 2) Perhaps, as a way to finally face her mating bond with Lucien, not necessarily to accept it immediately, but if they travel together to help the wider conflict, they could test the bond together and see if this is something they both want to choose or not (and Lucien would absolutely go for this because, even though the chance of a rejection lays at the end of the journey, he wants to figure this out as much as she does)....then cue an Elucien love story that is layered into the Firebird retelling ☺️

And yes, I just showed my Elucien cards, but this theory of how their book could go technically allows for either outcome. But whether Elain is involved as I am speculating here, or less so, I honestly believe Lucien will be the one to travel to the continent to face Koschei to free Vassa from her curse, and free the other girls Koschei has trapped in the process. 

This single line in ACOSF, ch. 7, bolded at the end of the political discussion about Koschei, is SJM telling us almost as literally as she can from the middle of the narrative, that this is what is coming, and I adore SJM for putting this in there, easing my Lucien, Firebird-loving heart that my hopes for this plotline are well founded:

“Certainly.” Vassa peered at her hands, fingers flexing. “I fear what may happen if he ever gets free of the lake. If he sees this world on the cusp of disaster and knows he could strike, and strike hard, and make himself its master. As he once tried to do, long ago.”

“Those are legends that predate our courts,” Eris said.

Vassa nodded. “It is all I have gleaned from my time enslaved to him.”

Lucien stared out the window—as if he could see the lake across a sea and a continent. As if he were setting his target.

I always hoped this would be the next full length novel after Nessian's, but now I'm thinking it might be the last one because it would end with Koschei's demise, and he seems to be the big baddie for this trio of novels, of which ACOSF was the first. 

Plus the Az POV bonus chapter makes me think SJM is setting us up for him being a main character in the next book, which makes me think we're finally going to get the Az / Mor situation resolved, and that they both find partners (in Gwyn and Emerie 👀 showing more ship cards, sorry not sorry!) once they talk out 500 years of tension and pain. 

So the Firebird retelling may get punted one more book, which in my head means Elain's story is held off for another book as well... though Elriel shippers might see her playing a main role in an Az novel, and thus the debates continue until we know more ☺️ (she says cheerfully - no anti hate here please!).

I hope this answers your question about the Firebird fairytale and how I see it playing a role in a future book! Apologies for also weaving in my ship theories and predictions. ☺️ But IMO Lucien freeing Vassa from Koschei does not depend on any ship being endgame, and I am ready for SJM's creativity to shine as she (hopefully!) retells this story for us!

[echo-hiraeth]

Chapter 9: Misdemeanour

Part of the “Ilicit Limerence” series

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: A slow Sunday is ruined by a certain someone. The next morning reader returns to the embassy, receiving some rather good news.

Warnings: swearing, angst, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, nudity, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of unrighteous law

Masterlist

Previous chapter

Next chapter

The envelope felt like lead in your hands. You’d opened the door, barely dressed as you rolled out of bed, wrapped in a robe as you freed yourself from your lover’s embrace. You felt like you couldn’t breathe as you were handed the big envelope. A lawyer’s name. You just got fucking asked to drop charges. Not really able to move much you gently pushed against the door, listening to the dull noise as it shut on its own.

Opening this envelope would tell you exactly how bad it was. But you were too scared to find out, anxiously picking at your lip as you just stood there, seemingly paralyzed. You knew this was a bad idea, you knew you should’ve just let it be, you fucking knew there was no winning, ever. A heartbroken sob racked through your chest and you clutched a hand over your mouth, not wanting Javier to hear.

Quiet or not, it didn’t matter, he walked out of the bedroom, still nude, stretching his toned arms over his head as he let out a yawn. “Come back to bed, hermosa, it’s still early”, he rasped, voice hoarse with sleep.

You looked at him with tear-stained cheeks, palm practically glued to your mouth. He blinked, not sure of what he was seeing, but as he noticed to brown envelope dangling from your other hand he woke up instantly. You met each other halfway, weeping as he engulfed you in his warmth. His fingers weaved themselves through you hair, chin resting atop of your head as he rocked you back and forth.

It was shock more than anything that had triggered a response like this, a pure panic. He’d seen it before, the night you came back and he wasn’t prepared to have to ever see it again. “I’m here, baby, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere”, he whispered over and over, repeating it like a mantra so that maybe you might just pick up on it.

“I just want it to stop”, you cried out, balling your fists against his chest as you let go of the cursed papers.

The envelope fell to the floor with a soft rustling and in that moment you just wished you could disappear, fall through the wooden floorboards yourself. “I know baby, I know”, he soothed, pulling you in closer.

Your head started hurting from the extensive crying, corners of your eyes stinging as the skin felt raw due to all the rubbing and wiping away of tears. But when the tears stilled, the anger settled in. He could feel it in the way you tensed up, muscles seemingly rejecting his caring touches as he held onto you.

“Let’s sit down, okay? Have something to drink and then we’ll read over it, together”, he promised, kissing your temple.

You sat down at the kitchen counter, splaying your palms against the cold surface, trying to breathe through the sheer blood-boiling rage you felt coursing through your entire body. He picked the envelope off of the floor, throwing it down in front of you as he grabbed a set of glasses from the cupboard. “The case will take place in the states”, you muttered, not daring to look up.

“I know, we can rent an apartment”, he replied, pouring you some water.

“Javi.. this is my mess, you are not-“

He laid his hands over yours, clearing his throat. “I’m your partner now, whatever you’re going through, I’m right there with you.”

His words made you feel the slightest bit better, lip starting to tremble again as you looked up at him. “I’m so sorry.”

He dragged your chair closer to his, cupping your face in both his hands. “None of this is on you, preciosa. Whatever that says, it does not define you.”

“You’re so good to me”, you choked out, burying your face in his neck.

Javier struggled with that, his heartstrings tugging on his restraint and self-control. He was just as pissed off as you were, if not more. That scumbag had the guts to threaten a case himself, thinking he could fucking win despite the hard evidence against him. He’d wanted it to happen at a different time – any other time but now, you were finally back on your feet. The entire week at his apartment had been amazing, you’d been on top of the world, as if nothing ever happened. And you’d genuinely deserved that, both of you did.

This wasn’t at all how you’d envisioned your weekend together. The thought of having to go back to work after all of that tomorrow stressful enough on its own. You and Javier had spent a week in pure bliss, tangled up in each other’s limbs and depths, getting closer, both physically and emotionally. The two of you had a dynamic now, a routine together and the domesticity of it was all the stability you’d ever want and need.

“We’ll get a good lawyer, you don’t need to worry about that”, he said before pressing another short kiss to your lips.

You nodded, sliding your fingernail under the hem of the paper, ripping the glue apart. With another shaky breath you pulled the papers out, hands damp with sweat. You looked over at Javier, who gave you an encouraging nod. Your eyes skimmed over the paper, pausing when you read the words “misdemeanour” and “battery”.

“What the fuck”, you gasped, rereading the sentences over and over again.

Javier sat upright, trying to read along with you. “Misde- are they fucking blind? Insufficient evidence? Oh you have got to be kidding me. That is low, even for him”, he spat, kicking his chair back as he went to stand.

“Javi, please sit down”, you sighed, closing your eyes as you felt the room start to spin.

He kicked against the chair, the wood clattering onto the tiles due to the impact. “Man, fuck this!”, he screamed, giving it another punt.

You flinched, keeping your head low as he took some of his frustrations out. “Please stop”, you pleaded, fingers gripping the counter.

He looked at the way you sat and took a step back. “I-I’m going for a drive.”

Before you could so much as look at him he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You’d gone from a serious case to a negotiation regarding “first-degree battery”, with a thousand dollar fine as a suggestion. You knew how sexist the courts could be at times, often ruling in the favour of perpetrators solemnly because of their sex. It was disgusting, several supplied pictures of your bruised and mishandled body deemed as “insufficient evidence”. The added detail of “assault of a pregnant woman” overruled as well. There was a written out response and report, they’d handled it behind your back, putting an end to it before it even started. Insufficient evidence, no witnesses. The response even alluded to self-defence, explaining that in a crazed, hysteric episode you attacked him first, statement backed up by eye-witnesses.

Were you supposed to be happy? Happy that he didn’t charge you? Happy he’d give you a thousand bucks? A thousand bucks could not even begin to make up for the damages, let alone the loss of an entire family.

It was still a proposal though, so you could either accept or fight back. But if even now your sisters and mother were unwilling to side with you, you surely wouldn’t win them on your side under any other circumstances, it was a lost cause and you knew it. This is where it ended, this is where they stopped being family to you, for good. Javier and Steve would egg you on to take it to court, let it drag on, risk losing it all, but if you were completely honest with yourself you knew that all you wanted was for it all to stop. You just wanted to be left alone and forget, supress what had happened, supress years and years of what had been happening. Your father was too far gone, there was no redeeming himself, you’d known this since you were in your teens and yet there was always that small bit of hope that you held onto. But looking at these papers, his name signed neatly at the bottom, you felt it perish. You grabbed the nearest pen, hands trembling with sheer hatred and resent. Fuck him, fuck all of them, is this is what they wanted, they could have it their way. You signed your name on the same line, consenting to the settlement and leaving it at just that.

He’d exerted his control over you way too long and had always won, no matter what you did. The amount of holidays you’d spent on your own, amount of birthdays you celebrated with a bottle of gin or vodka, they’d always won. You were allowed a family of your own and you’d have exactly that, you’d win this time and they would never take it away from you again.

Let them have the case, you had other things here, important things; a real family.

 When Javier came back, somewhat cooled off, he found you in the bathroom, on your hands and knees scrubbing along the edges of the tub. You had the radio playing, some man announcing the weather forecast in Spanish. He leaned against the doorframe, the shadow of his towering figure making you look over. You both smiled at each other, though it wasn’t sincere.

“I’m sorry for losing my temper.. I just.. it ticks me off – a lot”, he confessed, crossing his arms in front of him.

You nodded, averting your gaze to focus on the porcelain once again. “I signed.”

“You did what?”, he asked in a monotone voice, standing up straight now.

“I signed”, you repeated, getting up off the ground and walking up to him. “I’m done with the games. He can have it his way if that means I’ll never have to see any of them again.”

He didn’t like that, but a part of him actually understood. “Are you sure this is what you want?”, he asked, no sly or ironic undertone, he was genuine.

“I want to be happy and a lengthy and expensive court case that I probably won’t even win just isn’t that”, you explained, pushing past him with the bucket of cleaning supplies.

He trailed after you, eyes glued to your form as you moved around the kitchen. “I know it won’t be easy, but you’ve got a good case, you could make a difference.”

“Listen, I made my decision and I’m not really in the mood to go back and forth about it. So you can either shut up about or go bitch to someone else”, you snarled, finger pointing towards the door.

His face faltered a bit at your words, taken aback by your brashness. “I just think it would be better for you to think about it some more.”

“Javier. Quit”, you sighed, turning your back towards him. “I don’t expect you to understand but I really don’t want this to drag on. Whether I win or lose against him in front of a judge, it’ll never actually fix anything. So instead of wasting my time away being miserable and anxious all the time, I’d rather spend it here, with you and Connie and Steve, Olivia.”

He came up behind you, spinning you around to face him. “You know I’ll support you no matter what. And if this is what you really want, then I’ll let it go, but I need you to look me in the eyes when you tell me.”

You put a hand on his cheek, looking into his brown eyes as you said exactly what you’d told him before: you were putting an end to it. “I want to start anew. I want a clean sheet with you, with this”, you whispered, bringing his hand to your swollen stomach.

He hadn’t ever touched you there since finding out you were pregnant and something about it felt surprisingly soothing, grounding, unreal. He could tell there was somewhat of a curve going on, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards as he kept his fingers there, lips colliding with yours.

“A new start”, he repeated, leaning back in.

 The next morning was pure chaos, the two of you struggling to get ready in time. Today was important, your first day back and your first day with the new ambassador, who knew nothing about you, your condition or your relation to Javier. You took your breakfast into the car, your heated time in the shower having you run late. You handed Javier a sandwich as you quickly buttoned up your blouse.

“That is really distracting”, Javier tutted, stopping at the red light, a hand comfortable resting on your thigh.

You threw him a glare, stealing his sandwich to sneak a bite. “Your fault! You wanted to have sex, now we’re running late.”

“From what I remember”, he started, stuffing the rest of the sandwich in his mouth “you were the one begging me not to stop.”

“Just because I’m pregnant doesn’t mean I won’t dropkick you”, you jested, fully buttoned-up.

He turned his head, flashing you an irresistibly handsome smirk. “Oh honey, keep it up and I might just have to bend you over your own desk.”

“Javier! Keep it in your fucking pants, will you”, you scolded, chuckling slightly.

He parked the car, taking his hand of your thigh in the process. “I like driving you to work, hermosa”, he mumbled, jerking the handbrake.

“Hmm, why’s that?”, you asked, fixing your hair and make-up in the rear view mirror.

“Beeecaauuse I get to do”, he leaned over the console, resting a hand on the back of your neck, “this.”

His lips moved against yours in a slow, passionate pace, tongue slightly pressing up against you, asking for permission. You allowed him the entrance, grabbing a hold of his shirt as he deepened the kiss, stroking your tongue with his. He squeezed the inside of your thigh as he leaned back, biting his lip as you let out a whimper.

“You’re the worst”, you sighed, the heat between your legs incredibly prominent as he dragged his fingertips over your throat.

Another embrace, lips grazing your neck. “C’mon let’s head inside.”

 There was bouquet of flowers, courtesy of the office lads, displayed on your desk. You felt a blush creep up as you walked over, reaching out for the card. It read <We missed you! Glad to have you back!>. You grinned from ear to ear, bending down to smell the freshly cut blooms.

“Oh wow”, you gasped, closing your eyes as the sweet smell filled your lungs. “I-I don’t know what to say..”, you stuttered, looking down at the array of coloured petals.

“Thank you, for a start”, somebody spoke.

You whipped your head around. “Lopez! Of course!”, you giggled, returning his hug.

Javier watched from the side, rolling his eyes and scoffing as Steve just laughed away. He knew the office was up to something, but a fucking bundle of flowers? That crossed a line for him. Flowers were a boyfriend thing in his mind, for Valentine’s and birthdays or when there was something to make up.

But it was when he watched the other man’s hand slide down you lower back that he really got annoyed. “We have work to do, if you don’t mind.”

The man let go of you, giving a polite nod before walking off once again. “Hoo-hoo, I’d pay to see that face of yours again”, Steve pestered him.

You engulfed the blonde in a bone-crushing hug. “How’re the girls?”

“Loud and proud. How’s the little troublemaker?”, he asked, watching as Javier sat down at his desk, lighting a cigarette.

“Still kicking my ass. Getting real tired of the nausea and vertigo”, you sighed, absentmindedly trailing a finger over the button of your jeans.

Steve nodded, placing a hand on your shoulder to convey his sympathy. “Any triggers? Connie told me some women react very strongly to certain foods.”

“Oh, just try to keep your coffee and cigarettes out of my face for now. Thank you for asking though”, you said, bumping your shoulder with his.

 The morning was slow, despite Javier filling you in at night the past week, you were still expected to attend a briefing. It became rather clear that there was a lot of pressure going around, Pablo closing in on his deal, his surrender. On paper it was nice, the biggest threat locked away behind bars, but that didn’t take care of anything. It was a stunt more than anything, something to appease to the public and feign peace.

It was just like what you’d gone through that weekend, there was no winning in this. “Imprisoned” or not, Escobar’s empire would still stand, whether he directed his men behind bars or not. At this point the decision was out of the DEA’s hands, to everyone’s greatest annoyance and it wasn’t looking good. It was within the government’s best interest to agree to the ridiculous terms, trying to rebuild their image. So a different decision was made, if the DEA couldn’t get Pablo, they’d get all the other sicarios and intel they could get their hands on.

Throughout the day you found out that ambassador Noonan was still there. She called you into her office, wanting to have a chat with you. The conversation came down to your current position and limitations and she informed you that so long as you were comfortable doing so, you were perfectly fine to go into the field. You both agreed that your sudden disappearance from stake outs might come off as suspicious, and that any possible corrupted fellow agents might catch word of what was truly happening. You agreed to work alongside Peña and Murphy until you were visibly showing or too exhausted, sick, restricted – whatever to keep doing so. You wouldn’t be chasing anyone, just show up and tag along to keep up appearances.

Javier was not on board with this and had to resits the urge to storm into that office and knock some sense into his superior. It wasn’t until you’d sat him down after dinner and explained the entire philosophy behind it that he actually listened.

“You’re telling me the best way to keep you safe if to put you directly in harm’s way?”, he asks, reaching for a cigarette.

You grasp the packet before he can reach it, tossing it aside. “Yes. Not attending raids will raise questions, questions too dangerous to answer. We do this for a couple of months and go from there.”

“I don’t know hermosa”, he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Specify attending raids.”

“Sit back, stay close to the armoured car and look pretty in a bulletproof vest”, you chuckled, trying to make light of the situation.

He let out an exaggerated sigh, bumping his forehead against yours. “You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.”

You captured his pouty lips in a kiss, smiling as he wrapped his arms around you. “I have laundry to do”, you breathed, closing your eyes as he held you against his chest.

“Did you really have to bring those fucking flowers into our apartment?”

You let out a laugh in the crook of his neck. “Last time I checked I’m the one paying rent, you freeloader.”

“Two places is gonna be costly in a couple of months and we practically already live together”, he explained, pushing some of your hair behind your left ear.

“You asking me to move in with you?”, you questioned, trying to keep yourself from grinning.

“Well, I’m more asking if I can move in with you”, he replied, leaning down to peck your nose.

You hummed in response, freeing yourself from his embrace to lean on the counter. “Won’t you miss your apartment? It’s quite a bit closer to the embassy.”

“Which is exactly why yours is better. And I won’t have to listen to Steve and Connie going at it every once a month”, he admitted, slowly shaking his head.

“Once a month? Ooh, that’s rough”, you joked.

He tilted his head in amusement, smirking as he looked back up at you. “Didn’t you have some laundry to get to?”

“Keep that up and you’ll get once a month too Peña”, you quipped, throwing the wet kitchen towel at his face. “Buuuut if you help me, I can give it to you tonight.”

“Oh baby, please. I’ll have you begging for me by the end of it.”

And beg you did. Legs wrapped around his waist, the vibrations of the washing machine sending waves of pleasure through you. You’d started by emptying the dryer while Javi filled the washing machine. And as soon as it turned on, he grabbed a hold of your waist and put your right on top of it. You were writing underneath him, moaning with every roll of his hips. His mouth was on your neck, rightfully marking what was his as he sped up his movements.

“J-Javi please”, you pleaded “more.”

He jerked you forward, having you balance on the edge, angling his thrusts even more upward. You surged forward as he hit deeper, reaching something inside that had you clinging onto him. His hands gripped onto your ass, keeping you in place as the machine rumbled beneath you.

“Gonna need you to cum, hermosa”, he ordered, out of breath as he dipped a hand between the front of your legs, rubbing sloppy circles on your clit.

You were a whimpering mess now, choking out his name as his hips started to stammer, desperately chasing his oncoming orgasm. He let out a series of low, husky, guttural groans as he bit down on your shoulder, coating your heat with his release. You followed soon after, the sharp pain in your shoulder sending you over the edge. Your toes curled behind his back, legs squeezing his sides as you let out a loud and melodical moan.

He stumbled forward a bit, caging you in as he regained his balance. “Shit – that was intense”, he exhaled, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

“Yeah.. that one’s gonna hurt tomorrow”, you panted, running your hands through his damp hair. “Hand me that towel, please?”

He leaned over, grabbing the towel off the drying rack, making some other stuff fall in the process. “No chasing, just showing up?”, he checked again.

“Just showing up, bulletproof vest on at all times”, you reassured him, throwing the dirty towel into the hamper.

He helped you off of the washer, giving your butt a smack as you stood in front of him again. “You ride with me, always. I need to be able to see you, understood?”

“I’m your girlfriend, not your liability”, you joked, playfully hitting him in the chest. “What’s that?”, you questioned, bending down to pick something up off the floor.

Javier hesitated, putting his hands over yours as he gave you a sheepish grin. “It’s just something I got at the market last time we went. I-it’s stupid really.”

You opened your hands, looking down to get a closer look. They’re little socks, striped-socks. “Javi.. when did you get this?”, you asked, voice rising in pitch as you started feeling a little emotional.

“You were talking to some vendor and I just – I thought they looked cute and-“

He was shut up as you smashed your lips into his. “I love them.”

Taglist: @pedritomando @peterhollandkait @ophelia-ingenue @radiowallet @phoenixhalliwell @diogodxlot @rosiefridayrogersunday @a-court-of-feysand-and-elorcan @asta-lily @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ 

[luxekook]

chapter two.

⇥ pairing: namjoon x reader; eventual bts/ot7 x reader

⇥ genre: college au with fluff, smut & angst

⇥ summary: a series in which the reader meets (and falls for) seven members of the Beta Tau Sigma (BTS) fraternity

⇥ word count: 2.3k

⇥ warnings: 18+, cursing, chaotic namjoon, power tools, hints of poly relationships, overall pretty smut free (who AM i???)

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

characters | prologue | one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine

Chapter Two

Habitat for Humanity Worksite – 9:26am

When I signed up to volunteer Saturday morning of syllabus week, I should have known I would end up regretting it. I almost punted my alarm clock out of the apartment window this morning, but instead settled a slightly more civil action – punching the shit out of the ‘off’ button.

Don’t get me wrong: I love volunteering. It’s been part of my routine since sophomore year when I was recruited for the all-women’s service society on campus – the Alphites. As a society, us Alphites volunteer around campus and in our local community each week. There’s something about doing service together that really creates bonds, and the girls in the society have quickly become some of my closest friends.

We sign up to volunteer for a variety of different service projects each week, and Habitat is my current favorite project to sign up for. As a nonprofit organization, Habitat for Humanity helps families build and improve places to call home. Currently, our regional Habitat is working on building a house from the ground up for a local family in need.

Disclaimer: I am in no way, shape, or form a very ‘handy’ person. Luckily for me, there are always a couple volunteers with construction or engineering backgrounds who are willing to teach other volunteers with less experience – or none, like me.

Since beginning to volunteer at the site last year, I have learned how to use a power saw, how to fasten siding, and how to mix, pour and level cement. It’s definitely empowering to learn new skills and also to see how my handiwork contributes to someone’s future home. I also feel lowkey badass when I get to use the power drill for anything.

Pulling up to the worksite, I clutch my cherished 24oz. Wawa coffee. I finally feel somewhat human as I park my beat-up Jeep Wrangler and hop out to meet the other volunteers for our task assignments.

The site leader Eddie – a burly retiree with a background in construction management – greets me with a huge grin, “(y/n)-doll, we missed you this summer! I can’t believe you abandoned us during the hottest months of the year.”

I roll my eyes, smiling at his teasing. Eddie’s like a teddy bear disguised as a grizzly – all rough edges and a heart of gold. “Missed you, too, Eddie.”

“Look at our progress now,” he continues, “Pretty impressive, yeah?” Nodding, I greet some regular volunteers I recognize as Eddie leads me around the house. He proceeds to show me what they had done over the summer in my absence – and they had done a lot. The house now had its full foundation and wooden framing with most of the doors and windows installed.

As we walk back to the front of the house to the main area, I sip my coffee and turn to Eddie, “So, what can I work on today, fearless leader?”

Letting out a patented ‘Eddie belly-laugh’, he replies, “I know you worked on the siding at our last site so I'm gonna have you work on where we started the siding on the right side of the house.”

Sweet, I could work with that. “Aye, aye, captain,” I respond with a lazy salute of my coffee cup. Before I can turn to start towards the scaffolding to begin, Eddie stops me.

“Oh, one more thing. I’m gonna need you to orient our new volunteer and let him shadow you today. Kid’s from the same school as you, I think… Mandatory service. Anyway, he should be here any minute.”

Shit, I know what ���mandatory service’ means. It’s the first form of disciplinary action that the college issues and is usually the only form of disciplinary action for our athletes or for Greek life – a fact I actively resent. During my time in the Alphites, I have had to deal with some of these ‘mandatory service’ characters and they’ve never been much fun to be around.

“Ah, that’s probably him now,” Eddie startles me out of my thoughts of dread and doom as a black gleaming Tesla practically purrs down the block, swinging into the spot next to my Wrangler. Scowling, I cross my arms as I survey the stark contrast between this person’s shiny-ass luxury car and my dirty-ass well-loved Jeep.

The Tesla door opens. A Timberland booted foot emerges followed by a thick leg encased in light jeans, a tanned well-muscled arm…

No. Nope, it couldn’t be— Please, not today, Satan.

He stands with his back to us now, stretching out his large body. In only a cutoff t-shirt, his rippling back muscles might be enough to send me into an early grave.

I sigh in bitter defeat of the inevitable. Seriously, the fucking universe must have it out for me because I can’t seem to shake this stupid fucking fraternity.

As if the boy feels my eyes on him, he turns. His eyes immediately clash with mine as he slams his car door, clicking the lock over his shoulder. Those eyes – golden brown beneath dark brows and a wave of bleached blonde hair. Their focus is absolute – hard – as he strolls towards us. It’s almost as if he knows the maddening effect that he has on me.

I think Eddie is speaking, but my senses are on lockdown, his words muted. My thighs tighten as my pulse picks up. Get a fucking grip, (y/n). I can’t let him know that just one look from him has me thirsty and oxygen-deprived. I can’t look away – that would be succumbing to weakness.

Instead, I hold his heated gaze as best I can as his confident gait brings him closer. God, he’s got to be at least 6 foot...

The goddamn president of BTS Kim Namjoon is getting closer and I can’t help running my eyes over him.

His thighs flex and shift beneath his jeans with every calculated step. His abs are apparent under his tight cutoff shirt emblazoned with his fraternity letters.

Namjoon stops in front of us, hands stuffed into his back pockets, biceps flexing. “Nice to finally meet you, Eddie,” Namjoon takes his eyes off me long enough to greet Eddie and shake his hand, but then they’re right back on me, “Hi, (y/n).”

He drags out my name in a such a sinful way that even old Eddie does a slight doubletake. Clearing his throat unnecessarily loudly, Eddie booms, “You two know each other?”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Our differing replies sound at the same time.

“Yes,” Namjoon repeats, lips turning up in an infuriating smile, “We have several mutual friends that she’s met a couple times now. Want me to jog your memory? I’d be more than happy to do so.”

Eddie takes one look at my face and hustles off, mumbling something about support beams. I guess my inner thoughts of ‘kill, maim, slaughter’ could easily be read from my facial expression.

Namjoon opens his mouth to speak again, but I’m faster, “Listen, Kim, I don’t know who you think you are, and, quite frankly, I don’t care. What I do care about is this house and these people working on it. Don’t fuck this up for me, okay? Let’s just get through today and then you can go back to ordering around your brothers and causing general mayhem.”

I’m feeling pretty proud of my little soliloquy until I realize he’s still smiling with those blasted dimples out in full display. No, his smile has grown even wider now as he simply answers, “The semester.”

My nose crinkles in confusion, “What?”

“The semester,” he repeats, “I’m assigned here every Saturday for the rest of the semester.”

I stare at him.

He smirks back.

I stare.

His smirk begins to fade, “Uh, did you hear me?”

I stare.

“Okay, you’re creeping me out now, (y/n),” Namjoon waves his giant paw of a hand in front of my face, “How many fingers?”

I break out of my trance of denial and hiss, “What did you do? Double homicide? Serial arson? Oh my god, you were the one who blew up the science lab!”

His hand covers my mouth – it’s rough and warm and entirely disarming.

“You have quite the imagination, jagi. I’ll keep that in mind,” Namjoon chuckles, “To answer your question, I did none of the above. Now, answer a couple questions of mine: what did you do to get here and – more importantly – why did you distract Jungkook from doing his fucking job on Monday?”

I glare in response, waiting for him to remove his hand from my mouth. He takes too long, and I lick his palm. It works. He removes his hand, but from the look on his face it seems like he liked my tongue on his skin entirely too much.

Thankfully, Eddie chooses the perfect moment to yell across the site, “What are you doing just standing there, (y/n)-doll? I don’t pay you to just loiter around all day!”

“You don’t pay me at all!” I yell back, already moving towards the trailer with all the supplies to get started. Namjoon follows.

“(y/n)-doll?” his eyebrows are raised as I hand him a pair of the biggest gloves I could find, “What’s up with that?”

Taking a pair of smaller gloves for myself, I turn to look for some hammers and nails as I respond, “I’ve been here a while. He’s like my honorary grandfather at this point.”

I spot the hammers and nails tucked away on the highest corner shelf and I huff. Namjoon follows my gaze, “Need a strong, intelligent, tall young man to grab those for you?”

He’s impossible, but for some reason it draws a small smile to my face, “Yes, that’d be great.”

The smile I receive in response is so bright I wonder if it could make flowers grow, “Okay, but only if answer my questions, (y/n).”

I shrug, trying not to notice how his cutoff shirt rises as he stretches to reach the upper shelf. I catch a sudden glimpse of his abs, and I praise every god out there that hot weather can be blamed for my sudden onset of sweat. 

Clearing my throat, I laugh lightly, “Fine, first of all, I didn’t ‘distract’ Jeon. I just had a temporary lapse in judgement. Besides, he came to me all on his own.” His back muscles tense up at my words, but I continue, “And second of all, there’s no juicy story of how I got here. I just volunteer here every Saturday for the Alphites.”

The sound of a hammer hitting the floor startles me as he whirls around, “You’re an Alphite?”

Namjoon’s tone is one of disbelief and it’s a tone I do not appreciate, “Yes, why is that so hard to believe?” My arms cross defensively, “I’ve been a sister since my sophomore year...”

I trail off. He’s still gawking at me ridiculously. Narrowing my eyes, I stride across the trailer and grab his chin, closing his mouth for him, “Watch out, Kim, you’re gonna catch flies.”

Spinning on my heels, I sashay out of the trailer, nose held high in the air and satisfaction held even higher. He’ll catch up. After all, he’s basically supposed to be my bitch today.

I climb up the scaffolding next to the house’s right side and assess the siding work that has already been started. It looks pretty solid and level. I should have no issue with continuing without having to make any initial corrections.

The sound of a bucket of nails hitting the top platform I’m sitting on alerts me of Namjoon’s impending presence. Saving the bucket from teetering over the edge – a safety hazard for sure – I watch amusedly as Namjoon struggles stay upright and climb up to where I am on the scaffolding. Finally, he plops down next to me – entirely too close. I can feel his stare on my skin as I steadfastly ignore him.

“Hey, jagi,” he pokes my arm, “(y/n), listen, you just caught me off guard. I mean, you don’t seem like the type to be an Alphite – that’s all.”

Fury curls up inside me for the umpteenth time that morning, as I turn to face Namjoon with a sickly-sweet smile that has him flinching back, “Then do tell, Namjoon, what type I seem to be?”

I pick up the hammer closest to me and dip a hand into the nail bucket. The sooner this siding got done, the sooner I could haul ass out of here.

“I feel like that’s a trick question,” Namjoon sighs, rubbing a hand over his chin, “I didn’t mean anything bad by it, okay? I guess I just have always thought that your society was a bunch of mom-types—”

I cut him off with a swing of my hammer in the air, “What’s wrong with mom-types, you uncultured swine? And is serving your community really such a ‘mom’ thing to do? I’m sorry. I must have missed that memo. Here I was thinking that it was public service but go off I guess.”

He blinks, “Did you just call me an ‘uncultured swine’?”

I sniff in indignation, “Get with the times, Kim. I just roasted your ass. Now hand me that piece of siding and make yourself useful.”

“You’re so weird,” Namjoon mutters, sliding my request over to me.

“So what?” I shrug, “All the best people are weird. Now, do me a solid and explain to me why you and your ‘brothers’ keep suspiciously popping up everywhere I go.”

“Haven’t you figured it out yet?” he grins, “We’re interested.”

“What does that even mean? That you’re interested?” I wrack my brain, “As in all seven of you fuckers?”

“It means, jagi,” Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, “It means that we’re going to date the shit out of you.”

a/n: i love namjoon. that is all. 

taglist (message me to be added):

@catsandstrawberries @h5naaa @meowmeowyoongles @leftflowerprunedonut @rjsmochii @athletes-of-god @karissassirak @weallhavesecretsinthebestway @cvbachacbitch @bewitch3dforivar @honeyspillings @xxonyxpearlxx​  @valiantcollectorofsandwiches @fivesecondsofsarang 

[lettheladylead]

Not Your Aunt

Chapter 3: Gladstone [ao3 link]

It’d been a year since Scrooge started regularly babysitting his niece and nephew. Goldie had only had the misfortune of interacting with them a handful of times, though one of those handfuls was a week-long bedridden visit where they asked too many questions and got way too attached to her. So before leaving, she stole from their piggy banks to teach them an important lesson: Goldie O’Gilt is not their family and she’s certainly not their aunt.

The next time she visited after that, the kids seemed properly sour and uninterested in her, so clearly they got the message. Or they just had a bad day. Either way, she could focus on Scrooge and treasure and then move on with her plans. She was able to visit without interacting with children a good half a dozen times after that, which really made her days go faster. It was nice.

She was stopping by in early February to grab some items she’d left behind (for safekeeping, of course) when Goldie learned that Scrooge’s family was continuing to...expand. There were now twice as many children in the mansion and the two new kids were apparently not deterred by Donald and Della’s attempts to warn them about their uncle’s thieving ex.

The kid in green found her in the foyer and lifted up his sunglasses to wink at her. “Well hello there!”

She blinked down at him. “...hello.”

He shuffled closer and stuck out his tiny little hand. “Gladstone Gander! And you are…?”

Goldie pinched his hand between two fingers and gave it a single shake before letting go. She didn’t appreciate the tone she was getting from this child who couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve. “You can call me Miss O’Gilt.”

Gladstone pouted at her response and then shrugged before putting the sunglasses back. “Suit yourself. I’m a real catch!”

“I’m sure,” Goldie groaned. “Where’s Scrooge? I need to talk to him.”

The kid pointed towards the stairs. “Uncle Scrooge is in his office, I think.”

“Uncle?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did Hortense have another kid or...are you Matilda’s?” The concept of Matilda having a child had Goldie immediately confused. She was pretty sure she knew that woman’s goals and motherhood was never on her list. They’d bonded over the lack of interest once in the past.

“Huh?” Gladstone tilted his head. “No, Auntie Hortense is married to Uncle Quackmore, who’s my mom’s brother. Who’s Matilda?”

Goldie closed her eyes and put two fingers to her temple as she felt a headache forming. She supposed if they stretched the definition enough, then Scrooge could be literally anyone’s uncle even if they had some gigantic distant relation to him. It was kind of annoying. “I guess she’s...also your aunt. You’ll probably meet her someday.” With that, Goldie turned around and started towards the stairs.

The kid followed her and she resisted the urge to punt him into another room. “So you know Uncle Scrooge and Auntie Hortense? Are you Uncle Scrooge’s secret wife?”

“No.” She didn’t even give him a glance as she headed up the stairs.

“Does that mean you’re single?” he asked with a toothy grin.

Goldie looked down at him again and then rolled her eyes. “You’re a bit young to be at this level of annoying.”

“Annoying?” Gladstone put a shocked hand to his chest and frowned. “You must be unlucky like Donald and Della. Only unlucky people call me annoying!”

Alright, that was a curious enough statement to make Goldie pause and lean against the banister. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Gladstone walked up another few steps so his head was about the same height as her’s. “I’m the luckiest goose in the world! Even luckier than my mom!”

Goldie quirked an eyebrow. “Luckiest in the world, huh? How would you know that?”

“I know that ‘cause...I’m Gladstone Gander!” He did a little spin and stuck his hands into his pockets before pulling out a dozen twenty dollar bills. “I found all of these just on my walk earlier!”

She stared at the money and, on reflex, plucked a few out of his hands. He didn’t even react as she pocketed them. “That’s pretty normal when you’re walking around Scrooge McDuck’s mansion, kid.”

He reached into his pockets again and pulled out another dozen bills. “No, no, these aren’t from Uncle Scrooge! I got these while walking around town!”

That caught her attention a bit more. Goldie pocketed a few more of the twenties before putting a hand against the bottom of her beak. “That does sound particularly lucky.”

He gave her a thumbs up, clearly happy that he’d convinced her of his gift, and Goldie thought about her plans for the weekend. She’d intended on grabbing a pair of earrings she’d left in Scrooge’s dresser and a mystical gem-finder he’d locked up in his Other Bin before heading to Macaw, but...perhaps she could use a partner. Well, more like a sidekick. Or a mascot.

“How would you like to go on a trip and really put your luck to the test?”

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

Despite him being a very, very annoying little kid, Goldie had to admit that bringing him along was worth the frustrations.

She’d never done this well at the Galaxy Macaw, especially not at the slot machines. She could cheat her way through any old card game, but playing with other people brought too much attention to her presence. And the owner would be very unhappy if he saw she’d returned after what happened last time.

Her disguise wasn’t particularly artful - just a short black wig and green-tinted sunglasses - but it was enough to keep security from noticing her striking blonde amongst the sea of dark-haired birds around them. Gladstone managed to win a new little outfit for himself within a few minutes of entering the casino, and Goldie was happy that no one questioned the child’s presence. After a few wins at the slot machines, earning herself and her little partner a significant bit of cash, Goldie let the kid wander off on his own and started casing the place, getting ready for the actual reason for her travels.

“Miss O’Gilt?” Gladstone asked as he reappeared, tugging at her hand to get her attention.

“I told you not to use my last name here,” she hissed in response, glancing around to make sure no one overheard.

“Oh, right!” He tapped a finger against his chin. “So, then...Aunt Goldie, why exactly are we here? Not that I’m not having fun, but…this all seems kind of random.”

She held back a growl at the name - why did these kids always lean into the “aunt” moniker first? - and plopped her hand on top of his head. “Don’t worry about it. You should just keep having fun while I cash out and take care of some business.”

He shrugged. “Alright, but I bet I could help you with whatever you’re really here for! Uncle Scrooge never lets me help him find stuff ‘cause he says it’s cheating, but this is just how I live, y’know?”

Goldie removed her hand from his head and laid it on her hip. “I appreciate the offer, but this is something I need to take care of alone.” She glanced around the room and paused at the sight of a line of phone booths. “If I’m not back in a half hour, call your uncle to pick you up, alright?”

Gladstone followed her line of sight, then turned back to look up at her. “Are you doing something dangerous?”

“Hopefully not, but you never know.”

The kid pouted and leaned back on his heels. “...are you sure I can’t come with?”

Goldie crossed her arms over her chest. “Just stay here,” she said sternly, and quickly disappeared before Gladstone could follow.

He frowned and looked around himself. He knew nothing bad would happen to him, but it was still weird for an adult to leave him alone in a place so filled with strangers. Goldie was certainly unlike any other adults he’d spent time with, and he wasn’t at all surprised that Donald and Della had such conflicting feelings about her.

That being said, he could see a snack stand not too far away, so he rushed over to grab some pretzels. As soon as he arrived, the man running the stand gave him a big toothy smile, said he was the one thousandth customer of the day, and then handed him a giant pretzel for free.

It was nice being Gladstone Gander.

As he chomped away, a big banner above some of the slot machines caught his attention. In bright, bold letters he saw the words THE MACAW RUBY and more information about it being some rare, potentially mystical artifact that would be on display starting at 5 o’clock sharp.

He thought about that for a moment. From what he knew about Goldie, which wasn’t much but he’d understood the gist of it, she liked to steal things. Really cool, expensive, fancy things. He didn’t have to be a genius to put two and two together and realize she was after that ruby.

Whether or not she wanted his help, Gladstone decided he was going to be a part of this. After all, maybe the ruby would just come into his possession thanks to his luck! No one would need to steal anything, it would simply belong to him. And then he could give it to her and she’d give him a hug as thanks and who wouldn’t want that?

By the time he arrived at the place where the ruby was going to be displayed, it was only a few minutes to five and Gladstone took note of the extremely heavy security detail in front of the curtain. If Goldie hadn’t already gotten the ruby, there was no way she was going to get past all of them.

So he walked up to one of the guards and locked his hands behind his back. “Hi there!”

The guard looked down at him and didn’t respond.

“I’m Gladstone!”

Still no response.

Gladstone pouted, but he was pretty sure he could charm this guy into showing him the gem. “Can I see the fancy ruby?”

The guard made a face at him before turning to look at another guard and then proceeded to speak in a language that Gladstone didn’t recognize. He realized after a moment that it was probably Mandarin, which would make a lot of sense, considering where they were.

The other guard walked over and grabbed Gladstone by the back of his shirt, holding him up in front of his face. “Where’re your parents, kid? You shouldn’t be walking around here by yourself,” he said in a rough, heavy accent.

Gladstone frowned and crossed his arms. “I’m no kid! I’m just really short for my age! And I’ve won, like, fifty thousand dollars today, so you can’t tell me what to do!”

The guard frowned and his grip on Gladstone’s shirt tightened. “What’d you just say to me? I’m not in the mood for some brat and his-”

“Excuse me, sir,” a new voice called out.

All three boys looked over to see Goldie standing there, arms crossed and looking certainly unhappy, and with a purse over her shoulder that Gladstone didn’t remember being there when they’d arrived at the casino.

“That’s my nephew you’re manhandling, you oversized hog,” Goldie growled, reaching out and grabbing Gladstone so she could properly plop him down next to her. “You treat all your guests like this?”

The guard stood up straight and glared at her, pointing angrily towards Gladstone. “You might wanna teach your kid some manners, lady! He won’t be so lucky next time he pisses me off.”

“I’m sure that’s very difficult to do,” Goldie said with an eyeroll. “Come on, Gladdy, it’s time for us to go.”

Gladstone just nodded and took her hand. As they were leaving, a bunch of rich-looking snobs were walking in the opposite direction, probably excited to see the fancy gemstone that was about to be unveiled. He was pretty sure Goldie had already taken it and it was sitting in her bag right by his face. Though he wondered if she replaced it with a fake or if things were about to go crazy in this casino.

A moment later and Gladstone turned his head at the sound of an announcer and some clapping and a stunned silence and then an audience-wide gasp. Goldie clutched his hand a little tighter at the sound of the gasp and he noticed she’d picked up a tiny bit of speed.

With her walking faster, he fell behind her and looked up to see a shocking and unfortunate sight: a few strands of long blonde hair had fallen out from under her wig and were completely visible to anyone who could see her back. He opened his mouth to say something when he was cut off by the loudest scream he’d ever heard from someone that wasn’t Donald.

“IT’S GOLDIE O’GILT! GET HER BEFORE SHE GETS AWAY!”

Suddenly Gladstone was picked up and being held in Goldie’s arms as she quickly exited the building and ran towards the nearest available taxi. He didn’t even have a second to breathe before she had the driver heading towards the airport as fast as he could go.

She tore off the wig and sunglasses and shoved them into her bag, which Gladstone noticed didn’t seem to get any bigger as she did. He looked into it and saw what seemed to be some sort of endless vortex. Neat!

Goldie laughed and patted his head. “Good job out there, kid. That was fun,” she said as she reached into the bag and pulled out another wig - this time it was brown and wavy. It seemed she was prepared for the possibility that someone might try following her.

“Thanks, Aunt Goldie,” he responded with a smirk, remembering how much that name annoyed her earlier. “So where’s my cut of the profits?”

She raised an eyebrow at him and clearly looked like she was about to laugh at his question. “Why don’t we focus on getting you home before we talk about that?”

Gladstone put a hand to his chin in thought. Really, money wasn’t an issue for him. He found money all the time, and even when he didn’t, his parents had plenty of money of their own. But he did feel like Goldie owed him for all his help. “Okay, sure.”

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

First their taxi driver gave them a free ride because he was in such a good mood, then their plane tickets ended up being free thanks to a clerical error, and they were given a free ride from the airport to Scrooge’s mansion because who the hell could keep track of all the reasons why things were free? Goldie was certainly enjoying the perks of carrying around Scrooge’s little luck magnet. If she didn’t have places to be, she’d stop by his office and yell at him for not telling her about the kid sooner.

That being said, he was starting to get a little too attached and it was bugging the hell out of her.

“So when are you gonna visit again? We could go to another casino!” Gladstone said excitedly, bouncing in his seat. “Or some other place you’d need my luck for. An underground poker game, maybe?”

Goldie chuckled and leaned back, recognizing the area the taxi turned into as only a few blocks from Scrooge’s place. “Look, kid -”

“Gladstone!”

“...right. Gladstone. This has been lots of fun, but you shouldn’t get confused. I’m not a part of your family, I’m not gonna just stop by and visit and take you on trips all the time. I just conveniently already had plans to go somewhere where I’d benefit from some luck.”

He frowned. “So this is it? You’re just done with me now?”

“Well…” She shrugged. “I don’t like to limit myself. Who knows what the future will hold? I just wouldn’t get your hopes up or plan for me coming back anytime soon.”

Gladstone pouted again and let out a quiet hmph! before turning to look out the window. They’d arrived at the front gate of Uncle Scrooge’s house and he’d decided he was just about ready to leave.

They came to a stop and Gladstone quickly opened up the door and stepped outside, stretching dramatically and yawning. He turned to say something to Goldie when he was cut off by a loud, familiar screech.

“THERE HE IS!”

Gladstone turned to see Donald and Uncle Scrooge running towards him from down the sidewalk. He was very confused to see that they’d gone for a walk instead of hanging around the house, since they never wanted to go for walks when he was in the mood.

“Hi, Uncle Scrooge-”

Scrooge ran over and swept Gladstone up in a giant hug. “We’ve been lookin’ everywhere for you, lad! Where’ve you been? What did you…” Scrooge’s words faded out as he noticed the familiar smirk staring at him from the inside of a taxi.

“Hey there, hun.”

“G-Goldie?!” Scrooge looked at her and then down at Gladstone and then back up at her. “Did you take him?!”

“Sure did,” she responded with a shrug. “I left you a note in your office. You should really pay more attention to these things.”

Donald just watched this conversation with a frown. He wanted to assume that Aunt Goldie was lying about leaving a note, but he also knew that Uncle Scrooge definitely didn’t check and just assumed the worst when they couldn’t find Gladstone all day. He’d been screaming about how Daphne was going to kill him for losing her son, but it seems he didn’t lose anyone at all.

Scrooge sputtered angrily at Goldie, holding Gladstone against his legs and trying to find his words. “You-! You...you kidnapped him!”

“I did no such thing, you old miser. He wanted to come along,” Goldie said, glaring angrily. She turned towards her cabby and said something that the boys couldn’t hear, then the car started to drive away.

Scrooge glared right back until Gladstone, a few moments later, shook himself out of Scrooge’s grip and ran towards the car. “Wait! But-! What about my profits?!” he shouted as it turned onto the next street over.

Gladstone sighed, realizing his luck wasn’t gonna bring his money back to him. Though he guessed he still had a really fun time and he didn’t exactly need the money, so maybe that was enough. He looked up to see Uncle Scrooge staring down at him. “What’s up?”

“Should I be concerned about this?” Scrooge asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Gladstone shrugged. “Should I be concerned that a stranger came into your house and took me on a trip across the globe without you knowing about it?”

That one shut Scrooge up, and he huffed before turning around and heading back to the manor. Gladstone looked over at Donald who just seemed to be confused.

“What’s wrong, Donald-o?”

He frowned and shrugged. “I’m just surprised that Aunt Goldie took you on a trip, is all. She’s never taken me or Della anywhere.”

Gladstone slapped Donald on the back a little harder than he meant to, making the slightly younger duck quack. “Eh, I wouldn’t think too hard about it. Ladies can’t resist my charm, after all!”

Donald rolled his eyes. “You know she’s Uncle Scrooge’s girlfriend, right?”

“Huh?” Gladstone put a hand to his chin and thought about some things Goldie had said to him over the past twenty-four hours. He nodded slowly. “You know what? That makes a lot of sense. Yup, yup. That explains everything.”

“So happy for you,” Donald mumbled and started the long walk back to the manor.

Gladstone quickly caught up to him and smiled brightly. In fact, he just wouldn’t stop smiling at his cousin. He was smiling so much that it was making Donald even more irritated than he’d already been.

“What?”

“Don’t you wanna know about my trip?”

[muzzlefireyan]

Chapter 2 of Dimas and Agapito

Again, Agapito belongs to the lovely @yandereaffections and tw for gun violence but that’s about it

The pattern in the warehouses continued for the next few weeks. I’d come to work, Agapito would come to interrogate (irritate) me, and then I’d go home. Apparently I was the only one he really talked to like that besides his closer friends.

Almost a month had passed since I started working and it was pretty uneventful. This warehouse seemed like a fairly low profile place despite being higher risk. I think the “risk” is just because of the lsd being manufactured and Agapito being here. Honestly this is probably one of the safest jobs I’ve had in awhile.

“Alright Angel, I have a special job for you,” Agapito said proudly the next time he strode over. He’s taken to calling me pet names which is cute, I'm not gonna lie but kinda weird. “I’m planning on relocating this joint here,” he pats the wall,”and I’ve been enjoying your company so I was hoping you’d come with me when I move on to bigger and better things.” He looked at me hopefully.

“Sure,” I said and shrugged. “I always like a change in scenery.” Ah so much for my peaceful job. As much as I would hate to admit it I’d miss talking to him. I’d also die if I actually refused to go with him so…

“Aww I knew I could count on you to have my back.”

“Even though what you say tempts me to kick it,” I replied. He laughed and waved me off.

“Back to the grind,” he said as he walked away. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow from here, 8oclock sharp.”

Agapito’s perspective

I pulled up slowly and saw Dimas standing at attention in the parking lot in his full mercenary get up. He looks hot as shit like he could just punt me across the lot. Which he probably could. But still. He is currently a walking armory and we’re going to be walking around the city.

“Hey Angel, I told you we’re in civvies today right!” From the look on his face I did not. Oops. Well good thing I have spare clothes in the back. Mostly generic shit for whenever I or someone else needs a quick change. His height might be an issue determining if the clothes fit him. Hopefully seeing him in my clothes will not excite any more ideas about the very dangerous mercenary. The very dangerous, very pretty mercenary. Who is climbing into my car, arguing with me, and taking off his mask. I’ve barely even seen his full face and it is a sight. Tan skin, full lips, and yellowy hazel eyes. Eyes that are staring at me because I haven’t started the car.

“Right,” I say loudly as I turn the ignition,”We’re going downtown to visit a few folks and I’d like us to look a bit more inconspicuous. I have spare clothes in the back you can change into.” He frowns looking at what he’s wearing.

“My pants and shoes are good but I’m going to need to change my shirt. I have a recognizable tattoo on my neck I’ll need to cover.”

I suck my teeth, thinking about that one. “I have a bandanna. You could tie it around your neck or something.” He nods and reaches in the back to inspect the clothing choices I have back there. He settled for the largest t-shirt he could find which is just a plain grey one. I try to keep my eyes on the road as he starts unbuckling his armor and stripping off weapons, then rehiding them in his boots and pockets as I pull onto the freeway. When he goes to take off his shirt I almost swerve the car.

“What?” He says alertly, already scanning for threats.

“There was a 2 by 4 in the road,” I lied and ignored the blood pounding in my ears and face. He finished changing and he’s right. He has a large color moth tattoo right over his throat.

“Okay,” he says nervously, looking distinctly exposed without the heavy vest he wears and the machine gun. “Where’s that bandanna?” I nod to the glove compartment and when he turns I see slivers of more tattoos under his shirt. None particularly discernible so he’ll be okay.

We do the day's work, nothing exciting. I make deals and negotiate with private sellers and he stands outside the door and looks intimidating. And look intimidating he does. Long brown hair in a loose bun with his dark brows bunched together. Tall, dark and handsome. I need to get my head out of my ass. I can yearn later. It's time to work.

The next day is a similar story. The next, gunshots have him busting through the door after me. The man who had the balls to threaten me is lying dead with a duo of bullets in his chest.

Dimas grabs my shoulder and steers me from the scene while I make my calls.

We work well together. He doesn’t flinch from my violence and I don’t mind his snark and his cold demeanor. I might have even been able to handle my growing crush (obsession) and turn it into a nice relationship had it not been for the damn docks.

[please-buckme]

The Assistant

Hayden Christensen x reader

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

After leaving Hayden at the park, you couldn’t help the conflicting feelings swirling around in your stomach. Your thoughts being just as out of hand, was he flirting? He was definitely flirting. Should I dress nice or should I be more casual? Is he going to dress nice? Does he seriously even want me there or was he being nice?

With all these thoughts zooming through your mind by the time you got home a headache had started to arise, not wanting that to ruin the night you take some medicine to relieve the pressure.

It doesn’t take you long to shower and put on something that wasn’t too nice but also wasn’t sweatpants, which is a step up for you. The outfit was a casual sleeveless dress that you threw a cropped, jean jacket over, not wanting to show too much arm, and some black, high top converse. After applying your favorite color of lipstick, you gave yourself a once over in the mirror.

‘Okay I can do this. Just need to breathe. It’s no big deal just drinks with your boss.’ Talking to yourself in the mirror is something you do often when trying to calm yourself down, ‘Just. Your. Boss.’ You stare intently at yourself, clicking the lipstick cap in your hand before nodding, ‘Yup, I can do this.’

Once your mirrored pep talk concluded, you grabbed your purse and headed out the door.

—

When you got to Louis’, Hayden wasn’t hard to find. He was the only one wearing a Toronto Maple Leaf's hockey jersey. A small laugh paused your lips at your dorky boss before heading over to him.

You cleared your throat, “Is- ah is this seat taken?” You point to the empty bar stool next to him as he turns to meet your presents.

“Oh no! I didn’t think you’d actually show up.” His excitement surprised you and also him.

“Um you kind of guilted me into it.” You say, awkwardly looking down at the bar, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I so did not.” Hayden scoffed, “I just thought you might need a drink after the busy week we just had.” You see him lean on the bar trying to catch your eye, which he did. Looking up at him now you notice the 5 o’clock shadow he had been starting. Usually Hayden was completely clean shaven, always professional but today he didn’t seem to care. “You look nice.” He said looking you up and down once before meeting your eyes again.

“And you look.. comfortable.” He smiled his beautiful smile in your direction before pinching the jersey on either side, puffing it out and signaling ‘this’, you nod.

“Gotta support the team. I’m actually from Canada you know.” He smiles at himself before meeting your expressionless face. “What?” He asks.

“Hayden.. how many times do I have to tell you that I know everything about you?” You laugh as you role your eyes.

“You don’t know every-“

“I do.”

“You don’t.”

“I do.”

“Prove it.” He tests.

A look of shock rests on your face, “okay, first of all, it’s very rude of you to question me and second of all, I will.” He gives you a by-all-means look waiting for you to wow him. Your eyes squint at the mocking gesture before signaling to the waiter that you were ready to order.

“Yes, are you ready for another beer, sir?” The bartender asks in Hayden’s direction.

“No he won’t, I'm trying to prove a point to him, so I need to order his preferred drink.” Hayden’s in shock before you even say the order, his mouth falling open not believing that you know it.

“Okay and what will that be?”

“He will have..” pause for dramatic affect, “A Jameson with two ice cubes, a tiny stirring straw and… a pickle on the side.”

“Shut up.” Hayden says in disbelief, “How could you possibly know that?”

“I have my ways.”

“She’s good.” The bartender says, “Anything for you, miss?”

“Whatever you recommend out tap, thank you.” The bartender gives you a nod before heading off to start your drinks.

“That’s kind of scary.” Hayden says jokingly.

“Well if we ever dated I’d know everything about you already.”

The words fly out of your mouth before you even had time to process them. Okay think, say something so he doesn’t feel love you’re in love with him and are just a fucking stalker.

“Ah- What I meant was,” you flail your head in the arm as if that’s where your thoughts protrude, “I meant was, that um-, because we’re-, you see life-“

“Here’s your drinks.”

“Oh thank god.” You say before downing the drink in front of you.

“Wow, take it easy,” Hayden says, patting at your forearm, “so you’re in love with me?” He says smirking.

“Um no, far from it actually. I just say things before the thinking process is down, I don’t want to date you.” You lift the beer back up to your lips and chug the rest of it down.

“Am I making you nervous?” He asks, a beautiful smirk spread across his face.

“Why cause I just-‘ you say punting at the empty glass in front of you, “No, I’m just a better person when I’m drunk.” Hayden laughs at your honesty, that beautiful laugh you’ve come to know and love, the one that doesn’t happen very often. He signals to the waiter that you need another drink.

Since you chugged the drink in two seconds, you felt your buzz hitting you, which you were thankful for.

For the rest of the night you were much more laid back. Even knowing everything about Hayden, you still found yourself grasping on to every word he said. He told you of stories from his childhood, about growing up with his siblings and how he got the scare that hid in his right eyebrow.

—

After having way too much to drink, Hayden walked you home. It was a little chilly outside so Hayden gave you his long, wool coat.

“This is me.” You say pointing up to your front door, thanks for walking me home, here’s your jacket back.” You slide the jacket from your shoulders.

It all happened in a split second, your arm stretched out to give him the jacket when your thoughts started to cloud your brain again. Should I kiss him? I should kiss him. But shouldn’t he kiss me? Yes, I’ll wait till he kisses me…. but I really wanna kiss him. I’m drunk, I’m gonna kiss him.

When Hayden extends his arm for his jacket, you don’t let go, letting him pull you in and connect your lips. Almost as soon as they did he pulled away. “Wow..” was all he said.

“Oh my god. I’m so sorry and stupid. Oh my god.” You shake your head, looking down at your feet. Why doesn’t he want to kiss me?

“No no, we all make mistakes.”

This response enraged you, possibly because of the alcohol but mostly from the embarrassment of the entire situation, “We all make mistakes?” You repeat back to him.

“It’s just.. you know. I thought things were.. cool with us, you know? Like I’m your boss but we’re friends. You’re really great it’s just I-“

“Okay, um, you were right this was a huge mistake and I’ll see you Monday.” Your hand let’s go of the coat now, the embarrassment warming you up just fine. You head or the stairs of your apartment and to no avail, your drunk ass slips on the first step. Hayden catches you of course, even in the darkness you can still see his beautiful blue eyes.

“Let me help you, it’s the least I can do.” He says, you nod in response. Hayden lifts the rest of your body from the ground and carries you up the stairs. Your eyes never leave his face as you watch him concentrate on the door in front of him. His denial of a kiss was heartbreaking but you still found yourself pining over him. He had a hold on you that he wasn’t even aware of until tonight.

Once he set you down he brushed his hands over your shoulders, “Despite these last few minutes, I had a really great time with you tonight.”

Wanting to be an adult and not show the pouting 5 year that dwelled inside you, you responded, “I enjoyed your company as well.”

Hayden then reached for one of your hands, kissing it lightly, all the while smirking. “Goodnight, (Y/N).” Then he headed down the stairs.

By the time you were able to speak he was already gone, leaving your goodnight to him open ended. When you got inside your apartment, you leaned your body weight against the door, not quite sure what to think. You wondered if he were playing a twisted game with you or simply did just want to be friends.

You were his assistant though, why was he so desperate to be your friend?

You didn’t know, all you knew was work would be very interesting the next day.

Chapter 5

Taglist: @princessxkenobi @alideetoo @missgirlnoname @25carolvalkyrie @dinos-lavapit @basicanti-socialb-tch @haydens-moles @valkyrieofthehighfae @shads121 @alyssa-skywalker @shylittlecupcake @anakinseyelashes @peresphoncs @fungusbabey @cocassedoodles @luminarahan

[mythrilhusk]

!!Kill Techno-sensei!! - Chapter Two

Words: 2,076 Chapter One (Last)  AO3 Version Chapter 3 (Next)

The class absorbs the threat, stunned, hushed. Quackity clenches his fists. "Why the fuck would you do that?" His defiance shatters the silence. 

"Because I can." Technoblade replies dismissively. "But I am here to teach, so please, open your textboo-"

"No." Quackity smirks, wearing a confidence he doesn't feel. "Why would you destroy the Earth? You're immortal, sure, but you seem like the kind of guy who's easily bored. What would you have left after your little temper tantrum?" 

One floppy ear flicks irritably. "You see, the idea is, I'd die as well." 

"If you want to die so fucking bad, why don't you just let us kill you, asshole?" 

"That kinda defeats the purpose of the threat. You see, you're completely correct in your assessment. I am bored." Technoblade's light yet nearly monotone voice grates on Quackity's nerves. "I'm simply too good. Unbeatable, even. I've searched and searched, but haven't found a single worthy foe." 

"So you failed!" Quackity crows, slamming his fist on the desk. Psychological warfare, baby.  

Tommy takes up the jeer as well, "You failed, big man, ho, ho!! Eat shit!"  

Technoblade scowls and buries his muzzle in the thick textbook. "Why don't we move on. Page three-hundre-" 

"Move on?? Move on?? You killed my family, Technoblade, you fucking killed them all! I can't fucking move on from that!" Quackity snarls. 

Exhaustion leaks from Technoblade's glower. "I've killed many families, Quackity. All for one goal." 

"Fuck you and your motherfucking anarchy!! You think I'm scared of you?? I- I-" The words choke in Quackity throat as Technoblade stands up. He shrinks in his seat.

"Stay away from him." Sapnap growls. 

Technoblade ignores the students completely, instead turning to the whiteboard and picking up a marker. "History is not circular." 

"What's the fucking point." Quackity grumbles under his breath. There's no winning against a man who'd have no qualms about punting him. 

"Nor is it straight." 

"Pfft, knew it. Now everyone who hates history will get cancelled for being homophobic." Tommy somehow manages to both lighten the mood and make everything worse at the same time. 

Technoblade doesn't get angry or annoyed, however. "Heh. History is pretty gay, not gonna lie. It's also-" He steps away from his crude drawing of a squiggly line, "a helix. History repeats itself in stages. Anyone want to guess why?" 

Tommy leans back in his chair. "Because you're fucking dumb, that's why." 

"Ranboo?" Technoblade addresses the creepy, quiet boy huddled over his desk in the back of the class. 

"Uh- well-" 

"Nothing ever stays the same, big guy." Tubbo interjects. "It's not as simple as stuffing it all into a one dimensional form. Who's to say it's even a line at all?"

Technoblade shrugs. "Fair, fair. Why don't y'all discuss." 

With that, most of the tension in the room dissolves. Groups form as students gravitate towards their friends. Chatter fills the former silence. Quackity forces himself to join in, laughing and pretending like everything is normal again. But nothing about this is normal. 

He can't kill Technoblade through sheer strength. But he could easily outwit him. The gears spin in his mind, working out a plot. 

++++

The first week has gone by uneventfully. Nobody's tried to kill Technoblade yet, who in turn has behaved like a responsible teacher, refraining from punting anyone. It's so boring. 

The last class of Friday ends with the bell, and the kids file out. Technoblade ignores the bitter glares from the little ‘gang’ that calls themselves Ducklings. They haven't attempted anything yet, and Technoblade doubts they'll ever find the guts to actually go through with their plots. Pity, really.

Tommy remains behind, trying to shoo Tubbo, who refuses to leave him. "Teacher!" Tommy stomps up to Techno and slams his notebook on the desk. He's a blustery scamp, but Technoblade has seen how he brightens the classroom and helps his peers. 

"Tommy." 

"Let me kill you." 

"Us." Tubbo corrects. 

"Let us kill you or else." 

"Or?" 

“I'll fail all my classes." Tommy grins, seeming confident he's found a bargaining chip. "And I'll tell everyone else to fail theirs, too. You'll be known as the worst fucking teacher to have ever teachered!" 

"Oh, the horror." Technoblade deadpans. He's got to admit, the kid has guts. "You think I care?" 

"You've gotta. You're our teacher, after all." 

"K." Technoblade doesn't smile. "I'm afraid I can't just let you kill me." 

"Then prepare to be failed upon!" 

"But." Techno holds up a hand. "But, if you try to pass your classes, I will teach you how to kill me. Deal?" 

Tubbo pipes up, "That will be adequate. Come on, Tommy." 

Technoblade waits until both are out of the classroom. He doesn't feel guilty at all. What should he feel guilty for, after all? Simmering rage burns in his chest, a constant companion to the acid in his mind. 

Next class, he promises himself. Next class, the training will begin. He'll be one step closer to achieving his goals. 

Technoblade rises and lets his human form melt away. The voices in his head scream, as they always have, as they always will, hundreds of thousands of souls trapped in here with him. His eyes-- all millions of them-- blink open as his hundreds of wings unfurl. Anyone who could see him now might name him a beast or an angel, and either could be correct. But Technoblade knows both are false promises. Humans can't create beasts or angels, after all. 

Demons, however, are apparently a different matter. 

++++

Ranboo only went back to get his notebook. He can't forget his notebook; that is the one thing he's not allowed to forget. Shadows seep from every corner of the classroom. He shivers as he hastily scrambles to his desk. 

His book isn't in his desk. Where is it?? He can't lose it. He rummages in the desk frantically. Where is it, where is it, where is it?? 

The window creaks, and Ranboo yelps, leaping away from the sudden draft. "Wh-who's there?" 

"Hey." The kind voice greets him from the darkness. "You're out late." 

"I- I just- uhh, who are you?" 

"Who are you?" 

"I- uhh, I'm Ranboo." He backs away to the door. On the floor, silver glints in a shaft of moonlight. The spiral of his notebook. Crap. The shadowed form leaps silently into the classroom and kneels to pick up the book. Crap, crap. "Uh- that's- that's mine, actually." 

"Is it, now?" The gentle mockery in his tone sets Ranboo on edge. 

"Yes, actually, so- so give it back. Please?" 

The mysterious form opens Ranboo's book and flips through it. "Interesting. Alright." He hands it back to Ranboo, who snatches it and scrambles for the door. "Actually, Ranboo, I wanted to talk to you." 

The words yank Ranboo to a halt. He wants to retort, he wants to say no, he wants to leave, but instead he turns back meekly. "Okay?" 

"You're in class 3-E, yeah?" 

"Y-yeah...?" 

"Good. That's good. Do you want your teacher to die?" 

"Huh?" Ranboo tenses, confused by the seeming non sequitor. "I- I mean." Does he want Technoblade to die? Does he want anyone to die, for that matter? "N-not necessarily?" 

"Hm. Alright." 

"Who are you?" Ranboo gathers what little courage he has and steps back towards the door. 

"You, hm, you can call me Dream." The man steps out of the shadows. The mask over his face grins eerily at Ranboo. "I've got a proposition for you, Ranboo." 

++++

"Metal melts in the bastard's skin, so anything with metal is a fucking waste of time." Quackity spreads the pages of his plan over the tree-house's table. 

"Maybe he's a vampire." Karl offers, sitting on the table and messing up Quackity's perfect layout. "Try wood stakes and garlic." 

"Vampires aren't real, dumbass." Connor rolls his eyes. 

"Well, neither are immortal pig-men mutants, but here we are." 

"He's a pig-man, not a vampire. Maybe try something for werewolves? Silver?" Sapnap joins in, swinging on the hammock. 

"He's not a fucking werewolf!" Quackity shoves Karl off the table. "Or a vampire. He's a motherfucking demon, that asshole is, and we need to fucking kill him!" 

"Language!!" The screech from the roof of the treehouse freezes everyone in place. 

"Karl." Quackity says calmly. "Who the fuck did you invite to our secret hideout?" 

"Nobody!" Karl cries. 

"Connor?" 

"He said he'd bring coke!" Connor cries. 

A short man dressed in goth black and red accents drops through the window and smiles at the Ducklings. "I did, but the cans burst on the way." 

"Not soda-" 

"Language!!" The man cries again, shushing Connor. "You kids shouldn't mess with bad stuff, anyway." 

"We don't." Quackity shoots a glare at Connor. "Anyway, it's none of your fucking business. Why the fuck are you here?? What do you want??" 

"I, uhh, just thought I'd help with your problem." The man grins. "You want to kill your teacher, right?" 

"Yeah? But-"

"Well, there you go! I can help you! Name's Bad, by the way. Badboyhalo." 

"How can you help? And what do you want in return??"

"Oh, hmm, how about seventy-five percent of the bounty." 

"Deal." Twenty-five percent of ten billion is still more than enough, and Quackity would prefer revenge on Technoblade over riches, anyway. "How do we kill him?" 

"I've got associates working on that tiny problem. We stole- uh, developed a way to hurt him temporarily, but he can't be killed unless you hit his heart, and his regen powers are too strong to let you reach that with any weapons we currently possess." 

"How the fuck do you know all this??" 

Bad smirks. "Social networking."

++++

Ranboo paces in the chilly alleyway, reading and re-reading his book as shivers wrack his body. He found it. Good. Everything is fine, now. He's fine. 

He shuts out the uneasiness caused by the blurry darkness over his memories. He's never had a good memory, which is why he has this book in the first place. 

He huddles in the corner of the grimy alley to complete his homework, and wonders briefly why there's a second notebook in his backpack also marked 'Do Not Read'. Maybe he forgot he already had one. No worries. It's fine. 

Everything is fine. 

++++

"Class." Technoblade greets his students as they file in. Quackity glares at the monster. He's in his piggy form today, his cloak swishing across the ground. 

"Rise." Tommy calls out the traditional honor given to teachers. But the class hadn't done this before for Technoblade. Quackity glances around at his fellow students, who all seem just as confused. He stands up. The others hesitantly follow his lead. 

"Bow." Tommy sets the example of a shallow bow. Then he straightens and draws a revolver. "Lock on!" 

Quackity stares as Tubbo, Eret, and Wilbur also draw out guns and take aim on Technoblade. 

"Heh??" Technoblade chuffs in confusion. 

"Target on Korosensei!" Tommy snaps out the order. "Fire!" 

"Korosensei??" Quackity's disbelieving laugh is drowned out by the ringing cracks of the guns and the shrill shrieks of students.

"HEH??" Technoblade chuffs again amidst the chaos. Quackity makes the signal to his gang as they stay out of the line of fire. 

"All stop!" Tommy barks. The gunfire ceases. 

Technoblade stares at his class, a tusky smile cracking across his muzzle. "For your first assassination attempt, that was four stars, kids." 

"Wow, that's really good!" Tubbo cheers and high-fives Tommy. 

"Out of ten." 

"Oh. Awww, come on, we deserve some credit for actually getting guns!" 

"You missed." Technoblade replies. "And you ruined my whiteboard." 

"That's your fault, innit, though, big man. If you'd've taken the bullets, the whiteboard would be alright." 

"That's true, that's true." Technoblade's smile fades into a scowl. "But you also put your classmates in danger." 

"They could've asked us what the plan was." Wilbur hums. "It's really their fault for sitting between us and you. And therefore it's your fault for assigning their seats there." 

"True." Eret agrees. "It's all Korosensei's fault."  

++++

Philza walks between his guards, Punz and Ponk, as the two escort him through the compound. "What happened?" He asks, faking calm. 

"Technoblade added another term to our deal." President Skeppy walks backwards in front of Philza. Beside him, Awesamdude keeps a hand on his holstered revolver. 

"Did he." 

"He wants his class trained for assassination. In return, he told us his weakness." 

"Hm." Philza smiles, hiding the whirlwind of chaos and bloodlust behind his eyes. "Pog."

@@@@ KOROSENSEI NEVER DIES @@@@

Chapter 3 (Next)

[thelittlesttimelord]

The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 8

TITLE: The Littlest Timelord: The New Doctor Chapter 8 PAIRING: No Pairing RATING: T CHAPTER: 8/? SUMMARY: With the Doctor newly regenerated, he and Elise must now navigate their new relationship. The Doctor is an old man and Elise is a headstrong young woman. She is no longer the scared little girl the Doctor saved all those years ago. Will Clara be able to keep them from killing each other?

“Take a punt,” the Doctor told Clara. He was doing some sort of math on one of his chalkboards while Clara sat down near the console.

“Right,” Clara said.

“Your choice. Wherever, whenever, anywhere in time and space.”

“Well, there is something, someone that I've always wanted to meet. But I know what you'll say.”

“Try me.”

“You'll say he's made up, that there is no such thing.”

“Go on.”

“It's…it's Robin Hood.”

“Robin Hood.”

Clara walked up the steps towards the Doctor. “Yeah. I love that story. I've always loved it, ever since I was little.”

“Robin Hood, the heroic outlaw, who robs from the rich and gives to the poor.”

“Yeah.”

“He's made up. There's no such thing.”

“Ah, you see?”

The Doctor pulled a book off his bookcase. “Old-fashioned heroes only exist in old-fashioned story books, Clara.” He thumbed through a few of the pages before setting the book back in its place.

“And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you. You stop bad things happening every minute of every day. That sounds pretty heroic to me.”

“Just passing the time. Hey, what about Mars?”

“What?!”

“The Ice Warrior Hives.”

“After what happened on that submarine? I don’t think so,” Elise told him. She wanted to forget that adventure. She still had nightmares.

“You said it was my choice,” Clara argued.

“Or the Tumescent Arrows of the Half-Light. Those girls can hold their drink,” the Doctor rambled.

“Doctor.”

“And fracture fifteen different levels of reality simultaneously. I think I've got a Polaroid somewhere.” The Doctor came down the stairs towards the console with Clara following him.

“Doctor! My choice. Robin Hood. Show me.”

“Very well.” He put in coordinates and set the TARDIS in flight. “Earth. England. Sherwood Forest. 1190AD. Ish. But you'll only be disappointed.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

“You can’t wear a black dress! You’re not going to a funeral!” Clara told Elise. Clara wanted to look the part and dragged Elise along with her. Clara looked through the dresses and pulled out a green one.

“It’s perfect! It’ll go great with your hair.” She shoved the dress into Elise’s arms. “Well go on, get dressed.”

Elise changed into the medieval style dress. It felt wrong not to be in her leather jacket and boots, but she had to admit that she looked rather good.

“Might have to cover that though,” Clara said pointing at the roses winding down Elise’s neck. She’d still yet to understand why she had the tattoo in the first place.

Clara managed to cover it up with some heavy concealer.

The two women stepped out of the TARDIS.

“Might be a little bit much, but what do you reckon, Doctor?” Clara asked. She stopped when she saw him. Robin Hood.

“By all the saints. Are there any more in there?” Robin Hood asked.

The Doctor noticed how Robin’s eyes lingered on Elise and he moved slightly in front of her.

Clara patted the Doctor’s chest in disbelief. “Is that…?” Clara asked.

“No,” the Doctor told her.

“Oh, my God. Oh, my God! It is, isn't it? You found him. You actually found Robin Hood.”

“That is not Robin Hood.”

“Well then, who, sir, is about to relieve you of your magic box?” Robin asked, pulling out his long sword.

Elise nearly rushed forward, but the Doctor pushed her back. He stepped onto the bridge, facing Robin. “Nobody, sir. Not in this universe or the next.”

“Well then, draw your sword and prove your words.”

“I have no sword. I don't need a sword.” The Doctor opened his coat and twirled around to show Robin. “Because I am the Doctor.” Instead, he donned a gauntlet and pulled out a spoon. “And this is my spoon. En garde!”

They started sparring and Clara and Elise watched on in excitement.

The Doctor got the upper hand and hit Robin on the back of the neck with his spoon.

“You're amazing,” Clara praised the Doctor.

Even Elise had to admit the Doctor was rather dashing.

“I've had some experience. Richard the Lionheart. Cyrano de Bergerac. Errol Flynn. He had the most enormous…”

Clara cleared her throat, cutting off the inappropriate comment.

“…Ego.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Robin lunged forward and sliced a button off the Doctor’s coat. The Doctor held his arms out and Robin got ready to strike the killing blow. The Doctor dodged this attack and spun around so he and Robin were back to back. He bumped Robin and Robin fell into the river below.

“Doctor!” Clara said, rushing to his side.

The Doctor polished his spoon on his coat. “Like I said. My box.”

“Doctor?”

Robin was nowhere to be seen in the water below. He popped up behind the Doctor and pushed him into the water.

Clara and Robin laughed.

Elise rolled her eyes and waded into the water. She helped the Doctor up and asked, “Are you okay?”

“More of a bruised ego than anything.”

“I’ll fix your coat later.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Robin led them to a small encampment. “Let me introduce you to my men. This is Will Scarlet. He is a cheeky rogue with a good sword arm and a slippery tongue.”

“My ladies…”

Clara giggled and looked at Elise, who had no reaction.

To this day, the only man to ever make Elise blush was the man in the café after they met Clara the second time.

The Doctor pulled out some of his hair as he bowed and scanned it with his sonic screwdriver.

Will cried out and grabbed at his head. “What do you want with my hair?”

“Well, it's realistic, I'll give you that,” the Doctor told him.

“And this is Friar Tuck. Aptly named for the amount of grub he tucks into,” Robin introduced.

“You skinny blaggard.”

The men around them laughed.

Friar Tuck stepped forward and nearly fell.

The Doctor was on the ground behind him.

“What are you doing?” Tuck asked him.

The Doctor stood up, holding one of his sandals. “This isn't a real sandal.”

“Yes, it is.”

The Doctor sniffed the sandal. “Oh. Yes, it is.”

Robin turned to introduce another one of his men. “This, er, is Alan-a-Dale. He's a master of the lute, whose music brightens up these dark days.”

“Stranger you are welcome here, in Sherwood's bonny glade,” Alan sang. He suddenly cried out as the Doctor stuck him with a needle.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry. Blood analysis. Oh. All those diseases. If you were real, you'd be dead in six months,” the Doctor told him.

“I am real,” Alan insisted.

“Bye.”

The last of Robin’s men was huge.

“And this is John Little. Called Little John. He's my loyal companion in many an adventure.”

The large man stepped aside and a smaller man jumped out at them. The men laughed.

“Works every time,” Will said.

“Oh, I cannot believe this. You, you really are Robin Hood and his Merry Men!” Clara giggled.

“Aye! That is an apt description. What say you, lads?” Robin asked.

His men laughed in response. “Stop laughing. Why are you always doing that? Are you all simple or something?”

Elise was beginning to become annoyed as well, while Clara looked to be enjoying herself.

The Doctor picked up a goblet and poured out the liquid before walking up to Robin. “I’m going to need a sample.”

“Of what?” Robin asked.

Clara quickly pulled the Doctor away from them. “What are you doing?”

“Well, they're not holograms, that much is obvious. Could be a theme park from the future. Or we might be inside a miniscope,” the Doctor told her.

“Oh, shut up.”

“A miniscope. Yes, of course. Why not?”

The Doctor ran over to the encampment, leaving Clara and Elise.

Robin walked to them. “Your friend seems not quite of the real world,” Robin observed.

“No. No, he's not really. Not most of the time.” Clara looked at Robin. “Dark days?”

“My lady?”

“You said that these were dark days. What did you mean?”

“King Richard is away on crusade, my lady. His tyrant of a brother rules instead,” Will explained.

“And the Sheriff. Cos there is a sheriff, right?”

“Aye. It is indeed this jackal of the princes who seeks to oppress us forever more,” Alan said.

“Or six months in your case,” the Doctor quipped.

Robin spoke in a soft voice. “It is a shame to dwell on murky thoughts when there is such beauty here,” Robin said.

Elise felt like she was intruding, so she simply squeezed Clara’s hand and joined her father instead. She glanced back at Clara and Robin talking softly with each other and she felt a pang in her hearts.

The Doctor saw the look on Elise’s face and walked over to Robin. “What time is it, Mister Hood?”

“Somewhat after noon.”

“No, no. Time of year? What season?”

“Oh, Dame Autumn has draped her mellow skirts about the forest, Doctor. The time of mists and harvest approaches.”

Elise frowned. That didn’t seem right.

“Yeah, yeah. All very poetic. But it's very green hereabouts, though, isn't it? Like I said, very sunny.”

“So?” Clara asked.

“Have you been to Nottingham?”

“Climate change?”

“It's 1190.”

“You must excuse me. The Sheriff has issued a proclamation and tomorrow there is to be a contest to find the best archer in the land. And the bounty, it's an arrow made of pure gold,” Robin said.

��No! Don't, don't go. It's a trap,” Clara begged him.

“Well, of course it is! But a contest to find the best archer in the land? There is no contest.”

The men laughed.

“Right, that isn't even funny. That was bantering. I am totally against bantering,” the Doctor snapped.

“How can you be so sure he is not the real thing?” Clara asked.

“Because he can't be.”

“When did you stop believing in everything?”

“When did you start believing in impossible heroes?”

“Don't you know? In a way, it's rather sweet.” Clara joined Robin and his men, while Elise stood next to him.

He looked into her green eyes and saw…was it hope? He was going to show her he could be the Doctor again. That he could be the heroic man she knew him to be.

[mermaidxatxheart]

Paint Me a Memory Chapter Fourteen

I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted in this story. I hope you like this chapter, it’s going to be text mixed in with pictures. (Edit: I suck. additions are at the bottom. Eek.)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Mood board made for me by @captainsteveevans​

Warnings: fluff, swearing, mentions of crying, the usual suspects.

Series Master List

Chapter Fourteen

 I try not to crowd you, I try not to hover, but it’s hard. Being around you is addicting. I left you last night with a heavy heart, full of regret at not kissing you. 

 But it wouldn’t have been right. You were distracted by something on your phone, and although I think you flirt, I’m not sure how serious it is. You’re important to me and if I’m given the chance to do this, I want to do it right.

 “Bucky?” You start, looking over at me. Your face full of worry.

“Yeah?” I ask, pulling up in front of my studio. 

 “Did you mean what you said yesterday? About my stuff being good?” You ask and I frown. 

 “Absolutely. I don’t...” I park and look at you. “It’s hard to believe, when you feel the way you do right now, it’s hard to believe the good things. Our minds are constantly trying to bring us down, make us think we’re not good enough.” I cup your face gently, hoping you’re really listening. “But I promise you, you are good enough. I did mean what I said. You’ve developed your talent into an amazingly impressive skill. You’ve mastered more mediums, more styles than anyone I’ve met. And you keep pushing yourself to do more. If you keep going, you’re going to catch up to Da Vinci himself.” My thumb strokes your soft cheek. “I promise, I’ll never lie to you about anything. I’ll always give you an honest opinion about anything you want.”

 Your hands clutch at my wrists as you squeeze your eyes shut. “Thank you.” You whisper. I carefully kiss your forehead and pull away before I do something to make a fool of myself. 

 We head inside the same as before and this time you get right to work. You strip out of your coat and pick up the mallet and chisel. 

 Something feels different today. You were excited about the snack, but then you turned into this stress ball. I could boil it down to the rejection letter you got that prompted all of this, but I feel like there’s more to it. Rejection is a part of this business and I don’t feel like you’re the type of person to let that get you down. Maybe it’s whatever is going on with your professor. I don’t like the thought of you doubting yourself. Let alone someone else making you doubt yourself. I’ve seen your work, and you basically called that stuff your bottom tier work. If those are your worst displays, I’d love to see your best. I bet it would be like standing in front of the Mona Lisa herself. 

 I set my playlist, a softer collection of songs this time. It seems more fitting, considering your mood. I wish I could help you. 

 “How do you feel about pizza for dinner?” I asked, leaning against the bench next to you.

 “That’s fine.” You shrug. 

 “Sausage and mushrooms?”

 “And spinach?” You ask apprehensively. 

 “You got it. How do you feel about wings?”

 “Hopeful.” You reply. 

 I chuckle. “Understood.” I wander away, letting you work. I putter around, avoiding any actual work. I wander up to the loft and do some pushups to work off some energy, but the whole time I’m listening to you work. 

 Yesterday, you sang along with every song that came on, but there’s no humming from you today. I walk back down just as you stop hammering. Your shoulders are hunched, hands braced in front of you. 

 “Y/N?” I start, coming around to see you. “Did you hit your fingers again, doll?” I ask, but I didn’t hear any swearing. You’re usually louder when you do that.

 “No.” You grumble. 

 “What’s wrong?” I gently take your elbow and you twist towards me. Your eyebrows are pinched together, your chin dimples as you crush your lips together. You look ready to cry. 

 “You don’t have to work on this today, sweetheart. We can just hang out, watch movies and talk.” I say. You nod, your lower lip starting to tremble. “C’mere.” I hold my arms out and you step between them, pressing your face into my chest. Your arms tighten around my waist as I hug you tightly. I gently rub your back, but that only seems to break the dam a little bit more.

 “Come on. Get your coat.” I tell you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

 “Where are we going?” You ask, wiping your eyes. 

 “My place. I have a TV there, we’ll be more comfortable.” I say and you nod, turning to grab your coat. I notice your phone on the counter light up with a phone call from PQ.

 “Your phone’s ringing,” I call to you.

 “Decline. If it’s that important, they’ll leave a message. And my roommates text in the group chat so everyone can know my business.” You sigh. 

 “Have you told them what’s going on?” I ask.

 “They know most of it. How I keep getting rejected.” You shrug, flipping your hair out of your coat. 

 “How about the part you’re not telling me? Anyone you feel comfortable with talking to about that?” I ask, handing your phone to you and you flush red.

 “You know about that?” You ask.

 “I know enough about you to know you’re not telling me everything. And that’s okay. It’s your business. But I think that you should talk to someone. Maybe they’ll have some insight and advice on how to handle it. You don’t have to carry the weight of this alone.” I say and you gesture me closer. I smile, leaning towards you, and you peck my cheek.

 “You’re really smart. I don’t care what anyone else says about you.” You grin and I roll my eyes.

 “Glad to see you’re feeling better,” I mutter.

 “I’ll talk to Gamora. She’s the most level headed of my friends. The one voted most likely to listen first, ask questions second and shoot third.” You admit, following me over to the front door. 

 “Good. I hope she can help you.” I unlock my car and you climb in quietly. Your phone lights up in your lap.

  “Are you sure you don’t need to answer that? They seem really persistent.” I aim my car towards my condo.

 “Positive. It’s just my professor. I yelled at him today, told him basically to fuck off and leave me alone. I understand he’s trying to help me, but honestly, the sight of his name on my phone makes me want to cunt punt him across campus.” You shake your head, rubbing your face. 

 “That’s a new expression.” I chuckle. But inside I’m seething. I’m liking this guy less and less with everything you tell me about him. “What’s your professor’s name? Has he published anything? Maybe I’ve heard of him.” I say and you roll your eyes. 

 “Peter Quill. And I doubt you’ll have heard of him. If he has anything published it was way before my time.” You mutter.

 I park in the garage and wait for you to join me on the other side. You link your arm with mine, head resting on my shoulder. 

 “Thank you.” You say softly. 

 “I didn’t do anything, doll.” I shrug. 

 “You aren’t judging me, and you didn’t get mad that I didn’t want to talk.”

 “I’m here to listen if you want to, and of course, I won’t judge you. But I also realize that we haven’t known each other long, and I can appreciate that you might not feel completely comfortable talking to me. I’ve met enough artistic people to know how tight-lipped they can be.” I look down at you, jabbing the button for the elevator. “You don’t owe me a thank you for being a decent human being.”

 You make a little noise in the back of your throat as we step into the elevator. “Bucky Barnes, you just may be perfect.” You mutter, burying your face in the fabric of my coat.

 “Nah. Just raised right,” I say, but my face flushes at your words. Your phone dings again and you glance at it for barely a second. “Him again?”

 “Roommates. Talking about what’s for dinner.” You shrug, turning the sound off before it can ding again.

 “You don’t have to mute it,” I say, leading you out of the elevator towards my door. 

 “It’ll get annoying. My three idiots can never agree on anything. Pete wants Mexican always, MJ wants Chinese, Mora wants something completely different. They’ll argue back and forth for a while until I jump in and remind them that they can each get their own thing delivered.” You roll your eyes and I laugh. “They’re a mess.”

 “They sound like fun. I’d love to meet them.” I say, unlocking my front door and letting you go in.

 “I’m sure you will. They won’t let this one go. And I’m sure Pete will love the chance to threaten you.” You shrug out of your coat and I hang it up on the coat rack. 

 “Make your self at home. Movies are over on the shelf.” I tell you, heading for the kitchen. “Want anything?”

 “Do you have coffee creamer?” You ask and I look at you curiously. 

 “You want to drink coffee creamer? Like, by itself?”

 You laugh, face scrunched up in the most adorable way. “No, but if you have some, I’d love some coffee.”

 “Ah. That makes much more sense.” I grin, pulling down the coffee grounds. 

 “Do I wanna drink coffee creamer?” You scoff. “You’re a strange guy, Barnes. A strange guy.”

 I chuckle, glancing back at you as you move around my space. I like seeing you here more than I should, probably, for having known you for such a short amount of time.

 “You have three copies of each Lord of the Rings movies.” You say, pointing at the shelf and turning to look at me. 

 “I do, limited edition, ultimate edition, and the anniversary edition,” I say with a grin. “They’re some of my favorite movies.” 

 “The art is stunning in it.” You agree and I swear I could kiss you. “I know what I want to watch.” You say, pulling the Fellowship off the shelf. 

 “You’re a goddess,” I mutter. 

 You grin and set it on the back of the couch. “Bathroom?”

 “Down that hallway. To the left.” I start cleaning up my dishes from this morning as you walk away, humming Beyoncé’s Irreplaceable. I chuckle to myself. 

Chapter Fifteen

Everything Tag List:

@everythingisoverrated​ @psyched2b​ @shreddedparchment​ @bitsandbobsandstuff​ @after-avenging-hours​ @alexblrus​ @thinkingsofamadwoman​ @i-dont-want-to-be-called​ @thefridgeismybestie​ @fortheloveofallthatsholy​ @crazychaotic​ @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​ @pleasureoftheguiltiestvariety​ @redstarstan​ @justreadingfics​ @themistsofmyavalon​ @wkemeup​ @thiccbinch​ @glide-thru​ @elliee1497​ @ellaenchanted91​ @part-time-patronus​ @janeyboo​ @jensensjaredsandmishaslover​ @thirstybitchqueen​ @xxloki81xx​ @stuckonjbbarnes​ @browngirlmagic​ @geeksareunique​ @nicoleplacee​ @lexshead​ @gambitsqueen​ @sebbbystaaan​ @lokisironthrone​ @imanuglywombat​ @also-fangirlinsweden​

Paint Me a Memory Tag List:

@katshrev​ @pantrashtic​ @buckysmischief​ @pinnedandneedled​ @estillion14​ @alagalaska​ @seduce-me-with-your-weirdness​ @i-dont-want-to-get-out-of-bed​ @fandom-addict-aesthetics​ @voltage-my2dlove​ @flyawayprincess​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @what-is-your-plan-today​ @matsumama​ @afterlaughter27​ @lilliannaansalla​ @superavengerpotterstar​ 

[ruewrites]

I spent ten whole minutes writing a fucking essay in tags and because I use dumb fucking mobile it crashed and DELETED MY WHOLE BREAKDOWN OF YOUR FIC AND WHY ITS THE BEST IVE EVER READ. Anyways, now I’m writing you an essay in notes as to why you’re the best fic writer and im gonna try cram it Into your inbox, i just need to talk Abt how great it is and I want you to know how great you are

I wanna talk about your character building. It’s amazing, it’s beyond that, it’s perfect. At no point did I feel like it was fake or exaggerated. I particularly loved Lucifers story and character and I really feel like you did him justice, even from the very first chapter when he was caring for a tiny little asmo in the park Right the way through to the wedding,, outstanding, honestly. Not to mention his and Diavolo’s relationship, it was love,y to see what where essentially background characters have their own arcs too, y’know? Felt so real. Mammon and Levi, I LOVE the two of them and the sibling dynamic you portrayed was flawless, one of my favourite scenes was the Stake out for the admirer in the car? The arguing and back and forth was honestly hilarious and I honest to god was laughing, bit to mention the part when mammon raids asmos room and finds the letters? I was so nervous but so excited, I loved seeing protective but loving older brother dynamics. (The phone call where Levi demands asmo says over will never not be funny). One of my favourite relationships was the one between asmo and satan, seeing how the two of them were closer and especially the part where asmo visits Satan and they just gossip? It was so sweet honestly it was actually heartwarming, even if Satan threatened to punt a child. Seeing Satan support asmo all the way through was one of my favourite parts, you made every character so lovable it’s insane, and I haven’t even MENTIONED the main relationship!!

Solomon and Asmos developing relationship from when they first met, to the main story to the end is honestly so satisfying, even if waiting for the next chapter was stressful at times (I Hope you know exactly which Time I meant. You really left asmo in the bathroom crying and thought that I WOULDNT be distraught? I had to spend all week thinking about that everytime I saw asmos face, I was CRUSHED. made the ending so satisfying though). The whole concept of these anonymous letters which are designed around what Solomon just knows will make asmo happy is honestly so sweet and the fact that he worked so hard to give them to him without him knowing and had his roommate write them is,, insane but in all the best ways, exactly how I imagine Solomon would be, you did him so good. Infact let’s take a Minute, not to talk about your amazing fic, but about your amazing LETTERS, I mean, hello? What are you? Some kind of bored god whose decided to bless us? Each and everyone of them was gorgeous. You write POV so well too, whilst never getting like, too bogged down by any particular aspect. I particularly loved the small things, like Solomon knowing the coffee orders amd Asmo ‚accidentally‘ designing everything to suit Solomon.

Sorry for not sending this sooner, I deadass dreamt that I sent it and then found it unfinished in my notes. Anyways, wanted to let you know you’re my fave writer and I would die for you. That is all. Happy holidays! P.S i have NO idea how to fix the strange way my tumblr formats asks, I apologise. I wanted to send this anon because I don’t know how ok it is to send a short essay of thanks to fic writers but I really dunno how many ppl you have that fucking bother you with every update, I just love your writing a lot. Thankyou!!

First of all, thank you so incredibly much. Like, I love this a lot a lot. All of this is so incredibly sweet of you to say and every now and again I go back to read it because ahh???? I just enjoyed writing WBT and I didn’t think that people would actually enjoy reading it, even now that concept is just so mind boggling to me. I know I’ll be going back and rereading this for a while to come now. It just makes me so happy. Thank you.

If I’m being honest, I felt super worried about writing those dynamics, especially when it came to the brothers and other side characters. Honestly the stakeout scene in the car was one of my favorite scenes to write with the brothers. I wanted to throw in a little bit of familial comedy. I was hoping it would come across as funny, so I’m happy to hear that it did! I’m also happy you enjoyed the ‘Over’ bit. I’m also happy you enjoyed the sweeter moments of the sibling relationships. Sibling dynamics are complicated, but in the end, they’ll always be there for each other.

Ahah, yeaaaaaah. I knew it would hurt, and honestly I felt a little bad about leaving you guys hanging like that, but I made sure I didn’t leave you there. The pacing was another thing I had initially been worried about, so I’m happy that that also came across well. Solomon is a bit of an odd one isn’t he? But he’s odd in the best ways. Oh the letters, sometimes it took me a while to come up with them. I wanted to make sure they sounded sweet, but I was worried about them not being great. Just hearing that people liked all of these things makes my brain stop? Like it never fails to shock me that people genuinely liked this. Your kind words make me blush (0////0). Thank you so much! Like I genuinely wish I could say more, this is just so kind.

No need to apologize! I really enjoyed this! I put a smile on my face. The first time I read this I teared up a little, and I’m tearing up again now. I can promise you that I belive that fic writiers 100% appreciate this like this. Knowing that other people enjoyed something that I really enjoyed writing makes me feel so warm on the inside. People don’t really bother me, and I certainly don’t consider contact a bother :3. This is so incredibly sweet and I love it so much. I can’t even begin to express my gratitude. Thank you so incredibly much. Like, thank you. I hope I can continue to bring you more joy in the future. I wish I could express how much I genuinely love this. Thank you.I love this, and I’m so happy you loved WBT.

[bladekindeyewear]

HS^2 bloggin’ mainline 2020-09-15

This caught me laaaate at night gosh I’m tired but I’m gonna get it outta the way so it won’t stick in my craw!  Already saw the first page, so it’s time for:

> CHAPTER 13. The Funeral

Church with chess symbols at the peaks and a Prospit/Derse or Hope/Rage split color theme on the stained glass windows.

JANE: Dearly beloved...

> (==>)

Trolls, humans, and papparazzi.  Oh, hm, this church is RATHER carapacian isn’t it?  Between the chess and the continuing Prospit-Derse themes, like how this corresponds to how they align in the incipisphere top-left to bottom-right if I recall:

(Minus the outlying orbs to the left and right for symmetry.)

That twisted pattern is interesting, and not quite a spirograph.  Is that gonna be important later?  If we’re going to get some sort of class chart later in the comic, it’d be easy for them to hint at the chart’s graphical structure subtly by dropping it places like here.

JANE: Ladies... JANE: Gentlemen... JANE: News outlets... JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.

Technically true, but still odd to hear--  ...oh right, I forgot this was asshole dictator-wannabe Jane, too.

I read an interesting twitter thread recently about the intense psychological distinction between wanting to BE the best, and wanting to be TREATED like you’re the best.  Epilogues/HS^2 Jane is kind of written as a case study on the pitfalls of leaning on the latter instead of the former.

> (==>)

They brought Yiffy WITH them-!?  --Oh right.  The hostage exchange was supposed to happen here wasn’t it.

Yiffy definitely looks like a Harley-Lalonde daughter in this shot.

JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.

SINGULAR???

Weird.  Is it because Alt!Callie “won” here?

Or is Jane just forgetting because she’s culturally used to monotheism (ironically) and is insensitive.

JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--

Wow.

> (==>)

JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--

He STILL killed trolls??! (EDIT: No, a friend points out that she's talking about when she met him first in Act 6 and he tried selling bottles of troll blood to her. EDIT2: -which may be another inconsistency, since Vriska supposedly overwrote that post-retcon.)

> (==>)

It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.

Bad things about Gamzee deserve to be said here, yes.

Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.

Now those are some uncomfortable thoughts.

He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.

Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.

He lets go of the leash.

Yep, there’s a plan to set in motion that he’s probably already discussed with her privately.  Gotta unite this four-kid team after all.

> (==>)

Wait, are you ATTACKING?!?  --Of course you’re attacking.  You would even if the plan was something different, wouldn’t you.

JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in. JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth. JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.

Jesus Christ, what has she turned the place into, a fucking theocracy?

She sounds like the leader of some screwed-up, fundamentalist country!  Like the United States!

*rimshot*

JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.

Jesus.

JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.

Jesus, she really IS a self-evident takedown of hypocritical entitled political figures.  With the bonuses having Jasprose explicitly ADDRESS said entitlement to make things even clearer cut.

JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse. JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.

...Some natural gifts and status.

> (==>)

She’s just, shaking with fury here isn’t she?  And about to perform an impressive corpse-lob.

JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--

This sentence seems suspicious so I’m quoting it to refer to later if I need to, but is probably just platitudes.

> (==>)

JANE: Poised

> (==>)

JANE: Trembling

Okay maybe the sword’s a dick, but what exactly is Yiffany doing??  I’m finding it difficult as usual to tell between some of these image transitions.

> (==>)

JANE: Ready to burst forth--

Bad PR to shock-collar a kid mid press junket.  (Very dicks description.)

> (==>)

Click.  (Did they swap the shock function with Jane’s necklace somehow, that’d be fun.)

JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.

While shocking a kid?  GREAT PR.

> (==>)

JANE: I sympathize with your pain.

Wow, those horrified audience members.  She REALLY can’t even see herself anymore can she?  Not even hear herself.  And they’re making sure this is pointed out to EVERYONE watching.  They described this as in large part a PR campaign to defeat her, didn’t they?

> (==>)

Great furious businesswoman-villain look, that art.

JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure! JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom! JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!

Click click click.  This is a fun sequence.

> (==>)

DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar? DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot. JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey! JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it! DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.

Decent plan.  (And of course Dirk would pull out the word cunt.)  When’s the cavalry coming?

> (==>)

JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain! JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society. JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !

Trying to hammer home some of the Epilogue’s trolly-critical themes a little less bleakly, I take it.

I kind of like the violent vibration in ALL of these gifs in a row.  It makes the scene seem small, slow, teeth-clenching but still full of steady action, emphasizing the importance of the relatively small events from panel to panel while giving them the sense with the animation of them being [i]drawn out[/i] and tortuous instead of just “occurring”.  It feels that way to me, anyway.

> (==>)

If he got up alive here, that’d be hilarious.  (Presumably he’s been treated and done-up like a normal funeral body, not “dormant” and undecaying like a dead god-tier.)

> (==>)

CORPSE PUNT w/ CLEATS

> (==>)

That face is just.  I love that face.

> (==>)

SHE MAD

JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you. JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship. JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a JANE: Live JANE: Fucking JANE: Newsfeed! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

What did you expect to happen?  Do you expect to shout her down from this, Jane?

JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world! JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum! JANE: Get down from there at once! YIFFY: Grrrrrr

But this is GAMZEE.  --I guess it’s seriously disrespectful to his followers, though.  Still.  If you wanted civility from her, a shock collar, leash, and food bowl wasn’t the way to go about it.

JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today! YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR

What is your PLAN even, Jane?  You’ve completely disregarded her.

JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany. JANE: Ugh. JANE: Disgusting name. JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank. JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape. JANE: But let’s be serious. JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.

Can all the press hear her being such an asshole?

Okay, stereotypically, their arrival should be the next couple panels:

> (==>)

Jake, do something useful like hoping harder.

> (==>)

And she knocks the remote away.  Excellent.

And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.

Good, good.

He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.

God damnit.

> (==>)

Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.

All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.

Lessons belatedly learned, but learned nonetheless.

> (==>)

JANE: Enough of this. JANE: Seize her!

Kind of Red Queen of you.  (Are those stained glass windows in back of the frame about to burst?)

> (==>)

Yep.

The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.

Even attacking a disgusting faith’s church is pretty bad form, though.

Tired and busy, seeya next upd8.  <3

[itsomgitsgreenblogging]

Re-sublimity: A Critical Role Fanfic

I swear, I was just planning on writing a few small fics for @shadowgast-week. I swear. And then, this happened and I basically shoved all of the prompts into one gigantic fic, which will have to have a second chapter...at least. I do this to myself. So essentially...this is a Jupiter Ascending inspired fic. 

...enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview: 

>Journey Log #105

>Entered Intergalactic Standard Time 23:04 

>Order: Read Transcript

Dear Traveler, 

You should have seen me today! We dealt with what Fjord calls a “clusterfuck” with no problem! It was space pirates, you know, like Avantika except these ones weren’t cultists to a Deep Space Snake thingy. Yasha said we should call them bandits, but I remember you telling me that all crime in space is actually piracy because space counts as international waters. So I’m going to call them space pirates, okay! I was able to channel your energy through my STAFF, and do some serious damage. Caduceus is getting pretty good with his STAFF, you know, he was still using an actual wood staff to channel the Wildmom’s energy when we first met him. The techno-staffs are so much easier to use, and I’m excited about showing him how to update his later just like you showed me.  

But the funny thing about these space pirates were that they were kobolds! Caleb said that kobolds originate from a planet called Darastrixhurthi, which was really hard for him to pronounce. I took a guess at how to spell it here, hopefully I did it right. He had never heard of them piloting a spacecraft before, but their ships were these super duper rinky dink ships that Fjord said they most likely stole from the nearby planet and fixed up to be barely space-worthy. I’m sure you’ve seen kobolds before, but they were so cute, even though they were stupid and still tried to shoot us down after we gave them food. Anyways, Nott’s getting really good with her vibro-crossbow, and Beau’s lightning punches really saved the day. And you should have seen Yasha, she just about cleaved a ship in two with her vibro-sword! But I promise, I made sure to give them food and tuck in a statue of you as we scared them off. I’m trying to give something just as you always teach me. 

It was too bad about Frumpkin getting punted, but Caleb said he could fix him up again once we get to the nearest planet. Everyone said that because we saw the kobolds and passed by Darastrixhurthi, we’ll be reaching the Xhorhas System within two days, so long as we don’t have any more run-ins with trouble. I really hope we don’t because this has been the longest we’ve journeyed without stopping and I’m getting reaaaaaal bored. It’s so much easier when we have a hyperdrive that actually works to, you know, space travel! But I don’t really want to explode or anything. I’ll find something to do for the two days, besides rewatching my holo-dramas. Maybe I’ll have Caduceus teach me how to use the wand that I picked up on that planet with the fish-people. 

As always, I hope I can see you sometime soon when you aren’t too busy. Please look out for Mama, and my friends, and me. 

Bye!!!

[Record, included below is an image of kobolds wearing funny hats and flying on ships shaped like dicks]

 >Postscript 1, Added by Captain Fjord: Jester, I'm begging you, please stop putting dick drawings in the official journey log. We have to turn these in at port sometimes. 

>Postscript 2, Added by First Mate Beauregard: Oh come on, Captain. These are so fucking dry, I’m sure people would find it entertaining. 

>Postscript 3, Added by Nott the Brave: I personally think that kobold on the far right needs a bigger hat. 

>Postscript 4, Added by Jester Lavorre: >:D

>Postscript 5, Added by Navigator Caleb Widogast: It’s 24:00

>Postscript 6, Added by Nott the Brace: ...your people did this to my people.  

>Postscript 7, Added by Caduceus Clay: Imjuhbdwpqidnamap

>Postscript 8, Added by Yasha Nydoorin: I don’t think Caduceus meant to enter that. 

>Postscript 9, Added by Captain Fjord: No, he told me he meant to ask Jester to please call the Wildmother by her name if she can...you know the Wildmother. Alright everyone, go to sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow. 

The solar system of Xhorhas was the place where the Kryn Dynasty had been born, a rising power that’s influence was only dampered by the ever expanding reach of the Dwendalian Empire. When the starship SS Balleater docked on the planet of Asarius, two things were made extremely clear. First, based on the look that the officers gave their ship, they were a bit worse for wear. Second, they took bureaucracy to a whole other level here. They had been waiting in a long twisting line at the Customs office for exactly two hours and twenty seven minutes, in darkened rooms only slightly illuminated by low green lights. It had frayed on all of their nerves, to be honest. The Mighty Nein had never done well with long waits, and tended to get into trouble when they weren’t doing something of pressing importance at every moment. The past twenty days of deep space travel without a functioning hyperdrive had made that extremely clear. To make matters worse, Caleb was sore over the loss of Frumpkin, who had been kicked to shit by one of the kobolds who had managed to board the ship. Familiars, or animal companion droids, could be hard to maintain but he would be able to repair him, as long as he could acquire the necessary parts.  

 Caleb was relieved when their crew reached the front of the line, and came face to face with an overworked and obviously underpaid Kryn officer who looked at them all like she was awaiting her last breath. She was drow, an alien species that was related to the elves that had colonized so many planets during the first space expansion. However, unlike the other species of elves, they were originally an earth-dwelling species. Their coloration was dark and their sensitivity to light kept everything dim in the official buildings like the one they were currently in.   

“Welcome to the planet of Assarius, is this your first time entering the Xhorhas system?” the officer asked, her voice dull and bored. 

“Yeah, it is,” Beauregard said, not sounding impressed by this officer’s obvious existential crisis. 

“Very well, then you will have to undergo the registration process. I will need to prick your finger and gather a blood sample, and ask you a few questions so we can complete the registration questionnaire. Denial of this means you will not have access to the Xhorhas System and we will have to ask you to leave immediately.” 

“So...we all have to register our DNA to get anything here?” Beauregard demanded of the Kryn officer behind the glass, who looked like she wanted nothing more than to slide the glass closed on Beauregard’s face. “Isn’t that...like...extortion or something?” 

“Clearly you are not from around here,” the Kryn officer said pointing to the sign above the desk...written unhelpfully in the language of their culture. None of them spoke it, and with a quick type into his wristband STAFF he was about to cast Comprehend Languages for a translation when she seemed exasperated by their quietness and did the translating for them. “What you need is a Kryn certified Identification and Navigation Aid, or INAV, which you utilize to transfer credits and license your spacecraft. You only receive an INAV once you have registered with our offices, and to be registered you have your DNA filed with us. Not only is this process used to prove the legitimacy of our monarchs and members of our dens, but also, yes, to prove you are who you say you are when you are paying for goods and services. Unless you want to give blood every time you go to buy food, you get an INAV.”   

“How do we know you aren’t using our DNA for shady shit,” Nott asked suspiciously. 

“Lady, I just work here,” the Kryn official snapped, motioning to the ever expanding line of annoyed and tired travelers behind them. “Either let me do my damn job here or leave the solar system.” 

“Let’s not make her life more difficult than need be,” Fjord said as he held out his hand. She put a device like a heart-rate monitor on his finger and Fjord flinched as it made a small “psst” sound. She clicked the device back into the desk, and typed something into her computer. “My name is Fjord.”

“Last name?”

“Tough,” Nott supplied, and Fjord gave her a long look. 

“Tusktooth!” Jester chirped. 

“Just Fjord,” Fjord clarified. 

“Planet of origin?”

“Nicodranas.” 

“Business here in the Kryn Dynasty?”

“Ship repairs, and mercenary work.” 

“Take two steps to the left and maintain a neutral expression.”

Fjord did as she said, and a picture was taken. The woman tapped her screen, and a confirmation ding was made. Out popped a drive that was about the size of Caleb’s index finger. She demonstrated how it extended and a tiny holographic image of Fjord’s face and his basic information as well as the genetic marker appeared. It was then handed off. 

“Alright, next,” the officer said, voice somehow more clipped than it had been moments before. They went down the line, Caleb taking up the rear as they did. He wasn’t excited for this at all...after all the last thing he needed was more traces of him where the Empire could find him. But sometimes you had to take a risk, after all, it would be far more suspicious to tap out of the process here surrounded by Kryn officers. 

Caleb held out his hand and felt the pinch of a needle before it was retracted. 

“Name?” 

“Caleb Widogast.” 

“Planet of origin?” 

“Outer territory Rex-33, Settlement BLU-MENTHAL.” 

“Business here in the Kryn Dynasty?” 

“Mercenary work and droid repair,” he said, showing her the currently out of commission Frumpkin who was in his side-satchel.  

“Take two steps to the left and maintain a neutral expression.”

Caleb did so, and heard the sound of the picture being snapped. However after she tapped something into her screen there was a different noise. An obvious alert noise that had him immediately tense up. The officer stared at her screen for a moment, then back at Caleb and then back at her screen...clearly doing a double take. Before anyone could move, she waved at a senior officer behind her. He was a tall bugbear, and made a strangely funny picture as he leaned over the small drow. He frowned. 

“I’m sorry, sir. Can you check this? I must have entered something in wrong,” the officer said, her voice confused...but not angry or suspicious as she pointed to something on the screen. The senior officer looked at what she was pointing at and then popped out the INAV and extended it, inspecting the genetic code. He double checked it with the screen, seemed content with whatever he saw, and he exited out from the glass door separating the officers and the lines. 

“No, that’s correct. Nothing wrong with the intake,” the senior officer said before addressing Caleb and inspecting him closely. “Sir, have you ever registered DNA with our system before?”

“No, I’ve never been to this system before.”

“And how old are you?” 

“I’m 33 according to the Intergalactic Universal Standard Calendar,” Caleb said, frowning. 

“Human, right?” 

“I would be.” 

“Yeah, Minryna, that sample was catalogued approximately 850 years ago. There’s no way it’s been accidentally re-entered. It’s legit,” another senior officer called back to the one inspecting Caleb. Other clerks had stopped what they were doing and had gathered around the screen, and Caleb felt the pinprick of a thousand eyes behind him and a rising tide of whispers. 

“Well, Luxon bless me,” whistled the officer before looking at Caleb. “I guess it’s someone’s lucky day isn’t it?” 

“Lucky day?” Beauregard asked incredulously. 

“Forgive me for the long wait. Congratulations on your Recurrence,” the officer said holding out his hand. Caleb, numbly, took it and let it be shook before the officer opened the INAV and signed the bottom with his finger. It glowed a silver color, as opposed to the blue of the others. 

“Recurrence?” Caleb asked, feeling more and more confused by the moment. 

“Follow me,” the officer said, and the whispers behind him grew louder. Officers moved out to seperate them from the obviously curious crowd. 

“My friends…”

“Of course you may bring them as well. We’ll make sure your ship is taken care of post haste, we’ll probably need to take off from here within an hour..” 

“Wait where the hell are we going?” Beau demanded as they all walked. 

“Why are you saying congratulations?” Nott asked as they all entered an elevator, and the officer punched the 110th floor. It was traveling up at a dizzying speed, totally glass so you could see the work on each platform as they rose. 

“Genetics carry a sacred connotation in our society,” the officer explained. “I’m sure you have heard of our practice of consecution...of the soul being reborn through the power of the Luxon Beacon. However every person is unique. In the vastness of space and time it is of course possible for a genetic code to be reproduced exactly. We consider that to be a true rebirth, a Recurrence.” 

“So...my genetic code has occurred once before?” Caleb asked. This was far less incriminating then he had feared, but also that idea was terrifying on so many levels. He could barely handle himself...the idea that there had been another one of him running around at one point was dizzying and horrible. Who knows what he had gotten up to, knowing him. 

“Yes,” the officer said simply. 

“And Caleb was someone really cool before?”  Jester asked, sounding excited. “I read a holonovel sort of like this once! Of course the discovery was wayyy sexier but-!” 

“I don’t think this is very sexy,” Yasha said softly. 

“It is neat,” Caduceus said, sounding extremely impressed. 

“So where are we going right now?” Fjord asked, trying to get them all back on track. 

“I am taking you to the upper deck, where they handle Genetic Inquiries. We just get an alert that a Recurrence has occurred and the year of the genetic sample taken of the previous life...in theory that is. We certainly haven’t had any recorded cases of Recurrence within my lifetime. Anyways, they will be able to assist with other questions, including and not limited to who your previous incarnation was, and matters of any titles they may have left you in their will." 

“Wills? Like money?” Nott asked, her interest thoroughly peaked. 

“It’s common to leave parts of your will for a future recurrence, especially amongst the nobility.” 

“This is all strangely morbid,” Caleb said, unable to help the way his mouth quirked. 

“That’s very thoughtful,” Caduceus said with a nod. “We should all be considering our futures and how we would like our affairs put into order.” 

“Of course you are into that,” Fjord said with an incredulous shake of his head, though the look he shared with Caduceus was fond. Caduceus was from a race of aliens who worshiped a nature deity and were essentially stewards of the dead. His interest didn't surprise Caleb in the least. 

They were brought to an empty looking office...well, in comparison to the line they had just been in it was downright barren. A single goblinoid looked at them from behind a desk that was laden with stacks of tablets and papers. Behind her was a seemingly endless sea of files. 

"This is the one?" she asked, looking at Caleb and his flashing silver INAV. She held out her hand and he handed it to her. She opened it, inspected the contents and the signature and then signed it herself before turning to her computer. "Very well, let me just type in this and...here we go. C-12B-Jg73_E05_8." 

She suddenly pushed with her legs and went skating down the hall with her chair. It was attached to the ground glided along easily and then with a tap of a button she was sent up to a second level. The goblinoid tapped in some code, opened a file, retrieved a holodisk, and then with a lever pull she was returned. She plugged the external drive of the holodisk into the computer checking it and reading it quickly. She then reached to plug the holodesk into the INAV. She pointed at a long document that Caleb skimmed before going to the bottom and signing with his finger. 

"Very well, congratulations, my Lord," the goblinoid said. "This highlighted section is the section of the will devoted to you."

Caleb felt the others crowd him as the goblinoid spoke on the com in Undercommon. It didn't truly surprise him to see this script written in Proto-Zemnian. That means the person had been alive Pre-Calamity or at least 800 years ago. It made sense considering talk of 850 years ago. And of course if he did share DNA with someone, it also was somewhat comforting to know it was with another Zemnian. He recognized some of the script, but utilized his techno-magic to translate typing into his STAFF and approving the magical sequence. 

"What does it say?" Jester asked excitedly. 

"He isn't gonna tell us," Beau bemoaned, now officially caught up in the excitement. 

Caleb ignored them and read it out loud. 

"And to my future recurrence, if one should ever appear and claim my title, I leave two things. First, my journal of spellcraft. If you are anything like me I am sure you will find it interesting. Second, I leave my second home on the planet of Rosohna to you if it is still standing. Both can be collected from the arbiter of my will...my…" Caleb nearly choked over the next words. "My beloved. If he still lives." 

"Oh, he lives alright," the goblinoid said as grim looking guards appeared from the side door. "Best of luck with meeting you husband again!" 

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

>Personal Log Entry #365242

>Entered Intergalactic Standard Time 01:11

>Order: Record. 

Current success on project RESONANT ECHO has continued, using my STAFF I am capable of pulling a version of myself from a discarded timeline for limited amounts of time. This has been not only thrilling, but also frustrating. They are still limited in what they can accomplish. I may have to go back to traditional spellwork and iron out the details there before attempting again with a STAFF. Sometimes raw mana cannot substitute for good old fashioned components. 

On a more personal note, I have decided to bench my idea of pulling a Resonant Echo of another willing creature for now. Firstly, I have no willing creatures to test this idea on. My solitary nature has thwarted me again, unfortunately. And secondly...I am not sure I could bear the idea of success. I do not care much for the moral quandaries of such matters, and that isn’t what stops me. I only worry that it might put me on a path that is ill-advised for my mental health. The only thing more important than progress is being able to enjoy the fruits of my hard work. I am still my own greatest resource at the end of the day. 

>Postscript: Add obsidian to shopping list, to be delivered to my personal address. Order for the delivery service to leave the package with TOWER. 

>Completed transcription, would you like to save, override, or delete this file? 

>Order: Save. 

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

Essek Theylss was in the most boring meeting of his whole life. Economics had never been his interest, though of course he understood them. He had been given a thorough education at his Den's hand, and being a long-lived species meant you had time to become knowledgeable in anything you desired. But, as always, he wished to be doing his own research as opposed to attending meetings. 

Just as he was making this wish, the meeting was interrupted by Taskhand Adeen.

"My Queen, forgive me for my interruption," the Taskhand said, as always his face was an impossible to crack study of ice. "But an urgent matter has just occurred, I was just informed of it by the guards. 

"Then speak," the Bright Queen ordered, now sitting at attention. 

"My Queen, it is news of the most importance. Shadowhand," he said suddenly, and Essek was thrown off guard because-him? What had been discovered? What one of his moving parts, his schemes, what-"there has been a Recurrence.  Congratulations, your husband returns." 

"What?" Essek asked as he stood and floated, the words hitting his skin and freezing over like icy rain. His brain, oddly, felt slow on the uptake. It was a thoroughly disorientating and dizzying experience. The words churning in a strange fog and then a rising panic. "I'm sorry, could you...could you repeat that?" 

"There has been a Recurrence of your husband, Shadowhand. He returns now, brought from Asarius. We have genetic confirmation from the Solar System database-" 

Essek knew his levitation dropped because suddenly there was a burst of pain in his knees. It was strange...suddenly he had no strength in his limbs...and his sight was swimming. Recurrence? His husband? No, it couldn't be true. His husband was gone, gone forever. Whoever this was...it wasn't him. It couldn't be him...he was just a stranger wearing his husband's face. Another ghost to torture him, to leave him behind-!

"Essek," a gentle, concerned voice said. "By the Luxon give the boy some room!" 

"Deep breaths," came another voice, echoing in his skull and rattling in his brainstem. "Deep breaths, Essek. In and out."

"Do we need a medbot? Merciful Light! What were you thinking, just springing that on him in public!" The Bright Queen...he knew it was the Bright Queen who chastised Adeen. He was following instructions, breathing in and out, and it was becoming easier to discern who was around him. The lights ceased their strobing, his heart receded from his throat and made it easier to swallow. The one keeping him from melting into the ground was Quana, the Dusk Captain and wife of the Bright Queen. The one coaching him through the essential process of breathing was the Skysybil. He was in the Bright Queen’s throne room. He wasn’t dying. He was having a panic attack. 

"Forgive me for my unsightly display," Essek said breathlessly, trying and failing at pulling himself together, welding the shards of his icy-exterior back where they belonged. This show of weakness...how could he have let himself succumb to that in public regardless of what was happening? There was always time later. 

"This is of course emotional for you," Quana said, with a gentle pat on his shoulder. "Your husband returns. Of course the feeling is overwhelming."  

"It is a joyous thing, a holy occurrence," the Bright Queen said, crossing the room and looking as radiant as a newly born star. "It is no weakness to be overwhelmed by the Divine. The Luxon has seen it fit to return your husband, and to give us all a sign of His favor. You must go and prepare for him, just as we must begin preparations to welcome him." 

The Luxon! As if the Luxon had anything to do with this! It isn't him, Essek wanted to scream. It isn't him! He's gone from my side forever. This stranger...it won't be him. This isn't divine...it's a cruel trick of fate and genetics. It isn't him, it isn't him. 

"Prepare, yes, I...I must prepare," Essek said before nearly fleeing the chamber before anyone could stop him. He must have teleported back, though all he felt was a blur of noise and light and suddenly he was there. Everything felt so strange. Nothing was right anymore. His usual sanctuary had been breached by the abnormal, and all he wanted was to make it stop.  

The hum of his levitation seemed to be the only noise that echoed from the halls of his home as he arrived. He sent the droids that acted as servants away, and slammed the door to the study close and locked it with a wave. For a moment he paused before continuing on in spite of his racing heart. The ocean between him and the desk seemed immense as he crossed it. Opening the locked compartment he removed his husband's will from inside gingerly. 

It has been at least a hundred years since he had looked at it. It was written on parchment...because of course it was, his husband had always been old-fashioned...even back then. He had kept it in a temperature and moisture controlled capsule to prevent decay ever since it had been written. He had memorized every line a long time ago, he was sure, and yet now looking at the last section he paused. The spell book and the summer home and that was it. On paper it was nothing. Hardly a blip on the radar of the vast wealth that Essek commanded at his fingertips. But he would have to give it up...more remnants of his husband that he clung to would disappear from his grasp forever.  

It wasn't fair, Essek thought, breathless with grief as he pulled his husband's spellbook from the same controlled compartment. He held back his tears stubbornly. Essek was unwilling to stain the cover of the well-loved book as he cradled it to his chest. Inside was his husband’s soul, the work that Essek had founded his magic on. This interloper would take from Essek what little he had left that he held sacred.

"Sir, your heart rate is elevated as is the saturation of stress hormones in your blood," TOWER, the AI that ran the home systems reported. The screen of his INAV lighting up the alert for Essek to see. "Are you in need of assistance?" 

"TOWER, what is the rate of Recurrence in the general population?" Essek asked, refusing to answer that question. There was no good answer, after all. Why waste his time? 

"The rate of Recurrence in the general population is one in ten trillion."

"One in ten trillion…" Essek murmured, truly grappling with that statistic for the first time in his life. He had heard that number before of course. Back when he was in school, in his courses meant to educate and indoctrinate him into the faith of the Luxon. But now it seemed so vast, so unlikely. Bards sang songs about this, subscribed entertainment was based on this. And yet somehow it was really happening to him. "And do these Recurrences...when they happen, is it reported that the person is...similar, to their previous incarnation?" 

"Physically identical, however the rate of Recurrence is so low there has not been the opportunity for true scientific studies on the phenomenon, sir. Only anecdotal accounts." 

"Give a general summary of the anecdotal accounts, TOWER,” Essek said with little patience. 

"It is theorized that though the core of a person may be written in genetics, environmental factors such as planet born, levels of sustenance during formative years, chemical and radiation exposure, family structure, socio-economic standing, and other psychological factors and epigenetics will have an effect on the individual. As such, the Recurrence may not be the exact same individual as the previous incarnation." 

"Good," Essek said as he finally drew in a breath. "Good...then this will just be an unpleasant meeting. But who knows? He may not be interested in the book and I'll be able to keep it." 

"Are you unhappy, sir? By my database's reading this is supposed to be a happy event." 

"Of course I am unhappy!" Essek snapped at the AI. "Some...some ghost wearing his face is coming here. A ghost who by sheer dumb luck is given a title to land and my husband's spellbook...and...well...my hand in marriage." 

"Would you consider it better or worse if he was the same as your husband, sir?" 

"Oh by the Nine Hells if I know!" Essek groaned. But he was lying to himself. Of course it would be worse if he was the same. If he was the same...if this ghost truly was his husband...Essek would fall apart at the seams. After all, there wasn't a worse fate than being happy, for all happiness turned to ash and ruin. He had a husband for only ninety years. In the lifespan of his people that was hardly a season, nothing worth fretting over. And yet, he was still so cold at night without him...he still woke some nights, expecting his husband to be beside him.  

Essek wouldn't go through it again. Not again, not ever. He wouldn’t allow it. 

"Contact the Theylss arbiter and have them prepare documentation for an annulment," Essek ordered TOWER as he stood. He looked towards the wide windows, the violet-blue interstellar clouds that shimmered with the radiance of distant stars. His garden called to him, his sanctuary pulled him to it like the indelible force of gravity.  He was one with it...drifting quietly as always. "I would like this to be over and done with quickly." 

Essek was about to say something else when the sound of a call going through interrupted him. He knew who it was without even looking, which is why he didn’t bother to say hello as the voice came through.  

"Essek," his Denmother said, her voice cold and commanding as her image appeared on the screen. "Congratulations. We have much to speak about."

---------------------- 

“What do you think your husband is like?” Jester asked curiously, bouncing in her seat in the flight deck. 

They were currently being escorted to Rosohna by the Echo-Knights, who’s speedy Moorbounder ships kept in tight formation around them. They had had their ship’s general needs repaired in record time, their ship restocked with supplies, and had been told that when they reached Rosohna their ship’s hyperdrive would also be taken care of free of charge. They had actually been offered a completely brand new ship that was so beautiful it had almost made Fjord cry. They had refused it, because as Beauregard pointed out if something was fucked with on their own ship, they would be able to tell easily. For now, considering the results of Nott and Caduceus’ quick investigation, it seemed like everything was fine and in working order. All of this somehow and for a reason that Caleb was still grappling with was due to the fact that Caleb was apparently married. 

“He’s not my husband,” Caleb murmured, arguing for the sake of arguing the point, though his protests sounded weak to his own ears the more he read about Recurrence and the significance it held to Xhorhassian society. 

“According to the laws of this Solar System, yeah, he is,” Beauregard said as she slid the holodisk at him and rotated the image so Caleb could read it. “Right there. Xhorhas General Law, Part 2, Title 3, Chapter 507, Section 258 on the validity of marriage. The clerk shall require written notice of intention of marriage, on forms furnished by the state registrar of vital records and statistics, containing such information as is required by law and also a statement of absence of any legal impediment to the marriage, to be given before such Xhorhassian accredited clerk under oath by both of the parties to the intended marriage. After a marriage is solemnized by an approved Dynasty religion or other official method, the marriage is considered binding until a time when an annulment is performed, see sections 280-320 for specifics. And then I looked down and here, in Section 283 it says, if one party to the marriage dies, the marriage vow is considered null and void and the living party shall receive the benefits given within the will, can apply for a remarriage, and shall be able to file for government aid if needed. However, if a Recurrence is found of the deceased the previous marriage shall be automatically renewed in the system and upheld until the time that both parties file for an annulment.”  

“Congratulations?” Fjord offered weakly. 

“Caleb isn’t married!” Nott half screamed. 

“It sounds like Caleb is married,” Yasha noted.  

“We don’t even know if this guy deserves Caleb!” Nott argued, nearly frothing at the mouth. 

“We are technically married until we file a divorce then,” Caleb clarified, feeling like his stomach was twisting in his belly. He wished desperately he had Frumpkin to hold, but the guards of Assarius hadn’t been able to supply the specialty parts he had needed. He had been told that they would be provided easily by his “husband’s” family.

His mind came back to the concept at hand. Marriage. Caleb wasn’t against the idea of marriage as a social construct. He had once even dreamed of marrying. He had wanted to marry the girl he loved more than anything else in this universe. He had planned to marry her, and die beside her in the name of his King and Empire in the great battles against the evil that threatened the security of that Empire. Of course, things didn’t turn out the way one planned… and apparently he had been married all along.  

“You are going to divorce him?” Jester asked, sounding heartbroken and drawing Caleb from his strange thoughts. “But what if he’s wonderful? What if you love him?”

“I can’t love someone I’ve never met before,” Caleb said, apologetically. 

“In a past life you did though,” Jester said, her pout deadly in its force. “That’s what Recurrence basically is, right? Being reborn.” 

“We would refer to it as reincarnation,” Caduceus added as he appeared with a teapot. He poured a cup for Caleb and gave his shoulder a gentle pat. Caleb accepted it, if only to have something to do with his hands. 

“It is a genetic anomaly,” Caleb argued, motioning at the page he was reading. “I understand that genetics and rebirth are an important aspect of the Dynasty’s religion but it’s just that. It’s just a religious belief. I don’t know this person that shared my DNA, but you wouldn’t assume that if I married someone that person would also be married to my identical twin, right?” 

“You have a twin?” Jester asked, her tail swishing excitedly. 

“I don’t have a twin,” Caleb sighed. 

“Twins don’t count as a Recurrence,” Beau mentioned. “Chapter 436, Section 23.” 

“I don’t...it was just an example. Besides, I’m sure it’s...I’m sure that person’s husband wouldn’t want to be married to me. I am not the person they loved.” 

“It must be painful for them,” Yasha said softly, eyes drawn dark with grief. “But I’m sure they might be grateful too. There isn’t much…”

Yasha trailed off, but Caleb didn’t need to hear the rest. After all, Caleb was also well versed in the language of grief. Yasha was right, there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for the chance to at least glimpse at the faces of the people he had loved the most again. 

"Den Theylss though, I've heard they are a huge deal in these parts," Fjord said quietly, tapping the steering thoughtfully. "They are one of the three most powerful families in the Kryn Dynasty, second only to the Bright Queen's den. When I was running the merchant routes back in the day, the merchant ships that came out here always said that the three dens own thirds of the Dynasty." 

"Maybe you ought to stay married to this dude," Beauregard said seriously. "He's rich. Their family did just totally mostly fix our ship in a day." 

"I want to be kind to him," Caleb said, and left it at that. 

They arrived shortly after. Rosohna was a distant planet, it’s orbit kept it approximately seven years out of the light of the sun and gave it one year with seasons. In space, it showed like a glittering jewel. It was the founding planet of the Kryn Dynasty, where the Bright Queen raised her people from the shadows underground and led them to the space age. As they entered the hemisphere Caleb immediately noticed the brightness of the city that built itself silver into the dark exterior as they landed on the loading dock.  

“Alright folks, gear up, let’s rock and roll,” Fjord said standing up. 

“Aye, aye Captain Tusktooth!” the rest of the crew shouted back, before grabbing the necessities and disembarking off the Balleater. 

They were met immediately by a group of Drow, one of the natural inhabitants of Rosohna. There were all dressed in robes, shaded darkly but with touches of glitter and shimmer, enough to catch the low light. That separated them from the woman who walked before the rest of the group. She was dressed the most exquisitely, in a dress made like it was gathered from violet clouds that moved and shimmered with an almost iridescent quality. Her silver hair was pulled back high on her head, and her ears were decorated with what had to be thousands of credits worth of jewels. 

“You stand before Deirta Theylss, Umavi of Den Theylss,” one of the group said. Fjord immediately bowed, and everyone else followed suit. When Caleb rose from his bow, he saw Deirta’s eyes raking over his face intensely. She was an attractive woman, older in the almost imperceptible way elves aged, but cold and austere. Something about her gaze set him on edge immediately. 

“How fascinating,” she said, reaching out to take Caleb’s chin. She turned him this way and that, and Caleb resisted every instinct in his body that screamed at him to shy away from this woman. He didn’t like looking people in the eye normally. This forced contact made his skin crawl. “It is truly, utterly breathtaking...how much like him you look. An absolutely perfect match if my memory serves. There is no doubt, we have been blessed by a true Recurrence. The Luxon truly shines it’s Light upon us and our den on this day.” 

She released him and folded her hands in her sleeves. Caleb could feel the rest of the Mighty Nein draw close to him, a semi-circle of protection that grounded him the present and kept him from scratching the skin off his arms. 

“It has been...a lot for a day and a half,” Caleb admitted, swallowing nervously. He understood the wariness of the others now. There were eyes on them everywhere, almost all of the movement in the hanger had ceased. 

“I am just happy to welcome my son in law home,” Deirta said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “There is much we must discuss, of course. But the first order of business is the Reintroduction, the second is the will.” 

“Reintroduction?” Jester asked. 

“Between him and Essek, my son,” Deirta said. Essek. No one had yet said his name to Caleb. Essek Theylss was his husband by law in the Kryn Dynasty, a man that Caleb had never met before. He had the insane urge to speak it out loud, to run the name over his lips, as if that might spark something in him other than crippling anxiety. “This will be followed by the meeting with the Bright Queen tomorrow.”

“The Bright Queen?” Nott and Jester and Fjord and Beau all demanded at once, one with suspicion, one with excitement, and the other two with abject disbelief.

“You all clearly do not appreciate the cultural significance of Recurrence,” Deirta said lightly as they all walked to the transport ship. They were seated in a flying craft, with a large see-through lid that was sent up through a channel and then ported them out to the city itself. For a moment Caleb was too dazzled by the silver city itself, and almost didn’t hear Deirta’s command. “Smile for the cameras.” 

“Cameras?” Caleb asked before nearly yanking his own head back at the sight of the huge holo-screens lining the streets that lit up with their image. There was the sound of cheering audible from even up there. Jester waved manically, as well as Cad and Yasha...a bit more shyly.  

“You, child, are a phenomenon that occurs 1 out of 10 trillion,” Deirta said cooly, though she smiled sweetly for the camera that tracked her wave and the movement of the craft. “And even less likely to be discovered. You demonstrate the most sacred law of our deity, the chance for true rebirth. In such times as these, you are proof of the divine nature of our lives. And as if that were not enough, you are husband to a Theylss. Not just any Theylss either, son of the Umavi, Shadowhand to the Bright Queen, and considered to be one of the great beauties of our people. Any one of them would kill to be in your position." 

“You’re wrong,” Caleb argued as they passed the holo-screens and continued on, towards a castle of silvered metal towering from the ground. “I’m just...I’m just Caleb.” 

A murderer, a fugitive, a crazed lunatic, a self-made orphan, perhaps. But proof of the divine? Only if the divine was looking for a cosmic joke. 

“Perhaps before today,” Deirta said as she looked towards the castle. “Not anymore."

Soon enough they were out of the city proper and into the Firmaments District, as the captain of the ship informed them. The Bright Queen’s Cathedral was a massive castle-ship, currently docked in place and surrounded by the high pearly white walls that separated her and her court from the people of Rosohna. In the district behind were the houses of the other most prominent dens, laid out amongst the maze-like streets like small treasure chests. 

“Your friends shall stay with me in my household as honored guests,” Deirta Theylss ordered as they moved down to street level and moved through the city streets. She turned her seat to face them. “We shall go to your home to meet with your husband.” 

“No! Caleb doesn’t go alone!” Nott argued fiercely, planting herself firmly in front of Deirta as if she were three feet taller. “Either I go with Caleb, or he doesn’t go anywhere.” 

"The same goes for me," Beauregard said, crossing her arms in front of her chest, flexing the muscles there. She made a much more terrifying picture as Yasha sidled up beside her and echoed the same motion. Jester joined with Nott. 

"The Might Nein stays together," Fjord said, placing a hand on Caleb's shoulder, as did Caduceus. 

"Very well, I'm sure Essek will make the appropriate arrangements," Deirta said before turning to the officer who was piloting the transport craft. "Fine, go to Essek's residence." 

"Yes, my lady. Sit down, we'll arrive within a few moments,” the pilot of the transport ship said before closing the hatch and separating Deirta in the Captain's quarters from the Mighty Nein. 

"I don't think I like her," Jester hissed as she plopped down in her seat again and crossed her arms over her chest. "Your mother-in-law is mean." 

"She doesn’t have to be kind, she is an Umavi," Beau grumbled. "That’s like super nobility, but besides that she's a politician first, did you see the way she set us up?" 

Besides just the political boost, there was a more obvious reason now that he thought about it. Of course she wanted his face plastered on every holo-screen in the Dynasty. Now everyone would know his face, Caleb realized. She was far more shrewd then Caleb had given her credit for. If he tried to do something stupid, like escape without a functional hyperdrive in his ship, everyone on this side of the universe would know who he was. Tightening the noose, Caleb thought, his breathing suddenly funny in his throat. 

"This is all very complicated now," Caduceus said worriedly before stopping. "Are you alright, Caleb?" 

"I feel like I'm going to be sick," Caleb admitted, gripping his hands hard to keep them from shaking. 

"Oh no, Caleb," Jester said, immediately taking residence at his side. 

“It’ll be alright,” Nott worried his shirt quietly before gathering his hands in hers. “It’ll be alright. I promise. We’ll find a way to get out of this, I promise.” 

“Thank you, my little friend,” Caleb said weakly, letting Nott press a kiss to his forehead. 

“Let’s be prepared, who knows what could happen,” Fjord said, looking seriously out at the street. 

They arrived at a residence that was really three towers connected by walkways on the ground and above. The towers themselves had a uniquely antique feel in the city so smooth and chrome, built to resemble stone. However in the flickering low lights they revealed a glittering effect. On the top of the tower spun some sort of mechanism that shifted like gears and seemed to be measuring something. Caleb’s curiosity was thoroughly peaked, though, he wasn’t sure that this was the appropriate time to sate his curiosity. 

A servant-droid greeted them at the door to the front tower, bowing before Lady Theylss. She didn’t give the droid a single glance. 

"Where is my son?" Deirta asked shortly, brushing out her skirts though there were no folds or wrinkles to be seen. 

"In the gardens, my Lady," the droid stated. 

"Of course," she sighed tiredly. “Lead us there.” 

They walked through the tower to the walkway between the towers. There was a garden, filled with Glowing Nightblooms, a flower that when blooming cast soft blues and violets and whites into darkness. He had read about them before. They were a staple in the cheap credit a dozen novels he brought from outposts or second hand merchants, but seeing them in person was another. The path led them past crystal statues of geometric shapes that made light fracture into rainbows and painted the air vibrantly. The garden circled a pond, a dark tranquil pool that was so still that it was almost a perfect mirror with the star-filled sky. A single small shrine stood in the middle of it. And there in the center a person standing before the shrine...almost appearing like a ghost as silver incense smoke curled in the air.  

"My son, come and greet your husband," Deirta said. The figure turned from the shrine, he crossed the lake. Caleb had been to the edge of the galaxy itself, and yet he didn’t think he had ever seen a more handsome man before. He was composed of sharp edges and elegant lines, his skin a smooth and peerless dark plum, and his hair perfectly tamed and coiffed. There were no ripples as he moved-no-skimmed across the water’s edge as weightless as fog. He arrived on the stone path, and immediately knelt, expensive dark robes shifting as he did. 

"Welcome home, my beloved," Essek said, bowing deeply enough to press his forehead to his fingers. Geometrical earrings caught the light, as did an impressive, elaborate mantle that was settled upon his neck."I have been awaiting your arrival.”

“Please, lift your head,” Caleb half-begged, feeling flushed and oddly ashamed. He hadn’t done anything to deserve this act of devotion from this complete stranger. 

“I hope you have found everything suitable," Essek said as he continued to bow, pointedly ignoring his request. Caleb could almost sense Deirta gloating from where she stood a few feet behind him. 

"Your home is...it's beautiful," Caleb said, not sure if the words even came out past his panicked choking. 

"It is your home as it is mine, I am happy it pleases you," Essek said as he stood effortlessly, robes swaying as he did so. The silver of his eyes illuminated his face, flecked with pale blue and violet in the shifting light of the pond and flowers. His expression was hard to read, though his mouth curled up in a soft almost-smile. "I am Essek Theylss, son of Deirta Theylss, Shadowhand of the Bright Queen."

"Caleb. Caleb Widogast," Caleb said softly. 

"Caleb," Essek said, something flickering upon the surface and dissipating just as quickly. "And your guests?"

"My friends. The Mighty Nein." 

"TOWER," Essek called, and a screen lit up along the wall. "Make sure the service droids prepare rooms for my husband's friends." 

"Your will shall be done, sir," the AI stated. 

"In your room you shall find both the spellbook and the deed to the home as stated in the will," Essek said, tone businesslike...formal. Caleb wasn’t sure what he had been expecting. Perhaps crying? Screaming? Anger or sadness or grief? And yet Caleb saw none of that as he looked at this stranger. There was only politeness...a cool sort of acceptance. "Both already confirmed by the arbiter and myself. Are you capable of translation or will you need assistance?" 

"Ja, I can," Caleb said lifting his wrist to show his staff. Essek reached out his hand and offered it expectantly...and Caleb did the only thing he could think of and laid his wrist in Essek’s grasp. His touch was cold and fingers soft, and just that was enough to raise goosebumps along his skin. 

“I have never seen this model of a STAFF,” Essek said, inspecting the device, interest sparking in his gaze. It was the first truly genuine thing he had seen from this man who was meant to be his husband, and it soothed something in his heart. Caleb caught a glint of a STAFF upon Essek’s own wrist as well. 

“I...ah...I built it myself,” Caleb admitted. “I could not afford one with the specs I desired, so one has to do what they must.” 

"Then we have that in common, I also built my own staff. You are a techno-mage, I see," Essek said, sounding unsurprised. "Wizard speciality I assume?" 

"I...yes, how did you…?"

"He was the same," Essek said quietly, releasing Caleb’s wrist. Essek didn’t need to say who “he” was, they both knew. Caleb drew it back, and resisted the urge to stroke the place where Essek had touched. His skin still tingled from the touch. “Is there anything else you all required?”

“Ah...my familiar,” Caleb said, opening his satchel to show the limp body of the companion-droid. “I would like to fix him, do you know where I can get the materials?” 

“As you may have noticed, I employ droids heavily. I have droid-repairing materials here, TOWER shall acquire for you whatever you need,” Essek promised. He paused before looking to Deirta. "I am sure you have more you wish to discuss with me, Umavi."

"Yes," she said, without a scrape of anything resembling maternal love or affection. Instead there was only business. 

"Very well, we will speak in my office. I shall take my leave now," Essek said, turning to address them all. "If there is anything you require, you may call for the home AI, TOWER." 

And with that, he drifted past them with the Umavi, leaving them all alone. Caleb felt that he could finally breathe as soon as he was gone. 

“Wow...this is just like that scene in Tusk Love,” Jester said, steepling her fingers and looking starstruck. 

“What part of Tusk Love?” Nott asked curiously. 

“The scene where Genieveve meets her fiance, you know, the one her dad wants her to marry instead of Oskar?” Jester asked. “And the fiance totally tries to seduce her over dinner by giving her that beautiful red dress and the necklace made of lumincrystal?” 

“Oh! I love that part, especially when the fiance put his hand-” Nott started. 

“I don’t think this is like that,” Fjord said, interrupting warily. 

“If anything I don’t think it was horny enough,” Beau complained. “Like...did this guy even like his husband? He sure as fuck didn’t act like it. Like, if I spent two weeks away from the person I loved the most I would be shoving them into the nearest supply closet with me. Imagine hundreds and hundreds of years!” 

“Would you?” Fjord asked incredulously, and Beau elbowed him hard. 

“We all deal with loss in our own ways,” Caduceus said as he looked on at the shrine still settled in the pond like a cloud in the sky. “But he loved his husband...that’s for sure.”

“What makes you say that?” Caleb asked, swallowing in an attempt to wet his tongue.

“Such a fine grave could only be upkept with devotion,” Caduceus said, motioning to the small shrine. And as Caleb watched the single curl of white smoke still rising from the incense, carved words upon marble meticulously polished he realized that Caduceus was right. This wasn’t a shrine...it was a grave. “It’s beautiful.” 

 Caleb looked away, unable to quell the ache in his chest. 

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

 He spent a good portion of the evening tinkering and repairing Frumpkin with the materials provided. He was unable to explain his relief when the usual start-up menu appeared in their shared link. The feline-droid meowed happily at being reawoken, and spent a long time cuddling up with Caleb and performing his usual therapeutic routines, before settling to be charged. After that he worked on reading over the spellbook that had been given to him, marveling at the notes (trying not to think about the handwriting that was his own from the way he crossed his z’s to the dashes he used for his i’s). The Mighty Nein ate dinner together, with Essek noticeably absent from the halls and rooms. They were given a spread of traditional Xhorhassian cuisine prepared by the servant droids, and Caleb came to the realization that there was not a single living servant in the home. They were all given their own rooms, and set to retire in them. It was decided to play nice...to make the show of gratitude. If there was one constant in almost every culture across the universe, it was to know better than to trample on hospitality given. 

“What do you want to do?” Nott asked him nervously before they separated for bed. 

“I don’t know…” Caleb admitted, scrubbing at his face with his hands as he watched Frumpkin charge. “I get the feeling they aren’t going to let me leave so easily.” 

“They said the hyperdrive would be fixed in seven days. That’s the soonest we’ll be able to escape,” Nott said softly, close enough that any bugs that may have planted in the room wouldn’t have caught it. “Think about it, but don’t worry, you're stuck with me regardless of what you want to do, alright?”

“Alright,” Caleb said, catching Nott’s eyes and smiling. And he tried to sleep...he did. But his mind was racing, and finally he could do nothing but leave the room. He figured a quick walk around would settle him, and did his best to memorize the corridors and stairs and rooms he could enter. All information at this point was power, things he could use to get the upper hand in a game that he felt completely outclassed by. 

Eventually though...he found himself back  in the cloisters...the high arches and beautifully carved pathway to the garden. And he wasn’t alone, as he soon discovered. Essek stood solitary, next to a pillar looking out onto the pond and the grave. The flowers themselves were pale as a moon, glowing with a soft ethereal iridescence that almost seemed to float up to the clouds of violet and amber dust. 

Caleb drew in a breath, and Essek stiffened. A slender dark hand curled against the pillar, but he didn’t move. 

"I'm sorry," came the voice from the figure. The accent was smooth, voice soft and thoughtful. He did not turn, and somehow just that felt more genuine then any words they had exchanged thus far. He sounded exhausted, and so very apologetic...as trapped and frustrated as Caleb did. "I'm sure this all must be very difficult...I know this has been the strangest two days of my life." 

"Ja, I would say so," Caleb said, and watched as the figure cringed. Oh...his voice. It must be the same or at least similar to...to his real husband. "I am the one who should be apologizing...I'm sure this has been harder for you in more ways than I could ever comprehend." 

“If you are as alike as I fear, I would say that isn’t true,” Essek said, the tired tones of his voice biting into Caleb’s skin. “My husband was always an intelligent man...and always managed to surprise me with his inopportune insights. If you are like him...then there is little hope that you wouldn’t understand me...and I’m afraid that’s far more terrifying than the alternative.” 

“All I can do is apologize it seems,” Caleb murmured. “Apologize and hope that you accept that as my truth.” 

For a long moment Essek didn’t respond, and he wondered if this was Essek’s way of asking him to leave. Caleb was about to...to say something when Essek shifted instead. 

"My husband…" Essek started, faltered and then straightened his shoulders, still refusing to look his way. "I can’t explain it, no matter how much I desire to. His love sustained me through so much. He was one of the first humans to voyage to the stars and come to this distant shore. He was brilliant and kind and so much better than me in almost every way. I love him...even so many years after his death...he has been the only one I have ever loved." 

"I do not...I wouldn't ever presume…" Caleb started...but faltered. What could he say to make this better? There were no words he could summon in this language or his mother tongue to even scratch the surface of this situation. Instead his voice petered out, running out of gas. 

“There will be many things asked of you soon,” Essek said, retracting his hand from the pillar and slipping it into his sleeve. “I am just sorry I will not be able to spare you from it...from all of it.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned around, and Caleb’s breath left his lungs. He was as beautiful as the heavens unfurling in the hours of twilight, a single solitary figure against the quiet light. Instead of drawing near, he seemed to recede further into the shadow cast by the pillars. His expression was empty...there was nothing there, simply a reflection. 

“I have been informed there will be no annulment,” he said cooly, as if he were talking about the weather. “We shall have a Vow Exchange and Marriage Ceremony in seven rotation’s time.”

“They would have us married?” Caleb asked in shock. 

“Remarried technically, as by law you are my husband.”

“Do they have no concerns for your feelings?” Caleb asked, suddenly infuriated for Essek’s sake. 

“I have none to be concerned about...not anymore,” Essek said softly as he drifted forward. He didn’t walk, that was certain. Instead he moved as if buoyed in his own gravitational field. “I am a loyal subject to my Queen first, a child of my mother’s den second, a citizen of the Dynasty third, and a person last. I have a duty I must fulfill...and by marrying you, I shall be furthering the aims of my government through the greatest single act of propaganda we have seen since our Queen’s famous speech at the Breach. Though I have nothing to do with that, after all, I have been told that I am living the romance of the millenium. I should be very grateful.”

“Seven rotations?” Caleb echoed. A week, a single week. That was how long it would take for the hyperdrive to be fixed. The same day...of course it had to be the day that he was sure the entire solar system of Xhorhas would be watching him. Nothing could ever be easy...he didn’t deserve that much. 

“If you are planning on escaping...well...I wish you the best of luck,” Essek said with a wry smile, a glint of fang twisting up Caleb’s heart. “I doubt you will get far. My mother has told me that this shall be the single most lavish affair our people have seen since the last marriage between the Bright Queen and the Dusk Captain, and no expense will be spared for things like security.”   

“It isn’t right,” Caleb argued, blood pulsing hot and rapid in his veins. The injustice of it wrenched at his insides. “It isn’t fair, that they should treat you like some...some tool! I-”

Suddenly, Essek crashed right into Caleb’s chest. Hands balled into Caleb’s shirt with bruising force, and he stood there dumbly as Essek pressed his face more firmly to his shoulder and shuddered as if he carried the weight of the whole planet upon his shoulders. 

“It’s not fair,” Essek gasped, voice fracturing into a million pieces. Bitter and desperate and hopeless and overwhelming. “Why does it have to be this way? You even feel like him...smell like him! Please...please stop being kind to me. Push me away...run from me, hurt me. Stop sounding like him! Stop...stop talking like him. I beg of you...I beg of you. If you stay...I won’t be able to let you go again. I’ll do anything I can to stop you. I’ll be cruel, and vicious, and I’ll hurt everyone and anything that gets in my way. That’s the way I am. I am the most selfish creature that ever crawled upon the surface of any planet. So please...abandon me.” 

“You are a victim too,” Caleb said, instinctively wrapping his arms around Essek’s waist. He felt so slender in his arms...so delicate, like he was a shard of the universe...like he would disappear if he held him too long. And despite everything...it felt so right. It was just an illusion, brought on by the stress. He had never held Essek before...but he could almost imagine it with how wonderful it was. “Will you forgive me...for trying to find a way to save us both?” 

“Never,” Essek said, looking up at him. His eyes were silver like the moon-dust freckles that shimmered upon his skin, glittering with tears. “I’ll never forgive you. Just gazing upon you gives me a glimpse of that which I most desire, and even if you are just a shade if you stay I will pursue you. Don’t you understand? I am your greatest enemy. So you must go...you must escape without ever looking back at me.”

“Won’t they hurt you? How could I just leave you?” Caleb demanded. “You are innocent. I won’t damn an innocent again for my sins...never.” 

“Innocent? Ha! Abandon that pride of yours, Light damn it! Why don't you understand? The only thing I can do is protect you from me!"  

"I won't. If I leave you here...like this, what will happen to you?" 

"Nothing I don't deserve after everything I've wrought," he said bitterly, pulling away and leaving his arms so empty and bereft of purpose. "Caleb...I have done everything to deserve this fate, I see that now. This is my punishment, but it is not yours. Escape, Caleb. Escape the Kryn Dynasty. Escape my fate. Escape me. That alone...it will be enough for me for the rest of eternity." 

Essek disappeared into the shadows, leaving Caleb behind.