#i guess those are the main ones for this purpose...there are some other folks here but they have the biggest role

[theriveroflight]

hoping for a last-minute miracle

This year, I participated in @fyeahghosttrick's Ghost Swap! I wrote for @laughingmango, and used the following prompt: "Any sort of what-if with the detectives". Technically also sort of falls into the prompt with Cabanela/Jowd h/c, but this is (mostly) gen with hints of subtext.

Rating: T (very light cursing; death/violence)

Word Count: 8504 (whoa!)

Summary:

The evidence is getting filed away tomorrow. After tonight...no more second chances. The force is giving up on Alma, and they'll have to give up too.

(AU: Alma's death has been a cold case for the last five years. Cabanela and Jowd, in charge of the Special Investigations Unit together, have one more night to solve the case before the evidence is filed away and it sinks to the bottom of priorities along with every other cold case...)

Read on AO3

Tonight is the last night they have to get any more information on Alma’s case. Cabanela thumbs open the file again. A locked-room murder. There had been a gun hanging on the wall that had gone off, somehow. There were no fingerprints on the gun. The ballistics matched the gun perfectly.

Jowd said that it wasn’t usually loaded. If Alma needed to use it, she could load it herself.

“Cabanela?” Jowd asks, voice rumbling. “Do you think it’s hopeless?”

“I don’t know,” he answers. “It’s not that simple, baby. These cases…they might not even be connected.”

“When the first case happened with the rocker…I thought…” Jowd sighs. “I thought there might have been hope. That we could find some answers.”

“There’s still something I want to investigate,” Cabanela says. “There’s a meeting going down tonight with a man that we both thought was dead.” He grabs a different file and slides it over to Jowd. “I’ve already dispatched some of the force to keep an eye on it.”

“...the Chicken Kitchen?” Jowd asks, looking over the file. “Who’d you send?”

“Detective Memry was planted undercover. Rindge is supposed to keep an eye on things from the outside. Iiiiiiiii like to think it’ll go well.”

“Lynne said she couldn’t be here tonight.” Jowd frowns. “She took the night off. Said she was meeting someone.”

“And just wheeeeere did that meeting happen to be?”

“She never said.” Jowd looks back up. “I’m worried about her, Cabanela. You know she’s never been the best at controlling her impulses. I could blame that one on you.”

“Oh, come on, baby, you were the one that was gonna turn himself in for a murder he didn’t commit.” Cabanela leans back in his chair. “Youuuuu just might be the impulsive one.”

“Well, I never,” Jowd answers, a smile on his face. Cabanela smiles in return — at least he’s managed to get a smile on his partner’s face. They’ve been few and far between since the events of five years ago — Jowd’s dedicated himself to investigating Alma’s death with the rigor of a swordsman.

“Inspector Cabanela?”

It’s the chief on the radio. What could he want with them?

“Chief, what’s wrong?”

“Case at the junkyard,” he answers. “Want you to supervise them.”

“Who’s on the team?” Jowd asks.

“I’ll go, baby,” Cabanela says. He shuts off the radio. “Keep an eye on things at Point X for me, yeah?”

“I will.” Jowd looks at him in a softly familiar way.

Yomiel. The body is undoubtedly his, just as much as the coroner is undoubtedly a fake. Cabanela can tell just by looking. The way people act portrays just who they are — he mostly applies that to himself, but that applies to other people too.

“Inspector!” Both detectives salute him when he gets downstairs. The coroner just keeps working. Yet another sign that something is amiss.

“Evening, boooys,” he says, shooting them a disarming smile. “Hoooow’s it hangin’?”

The two look at each other, mildly disconcerted. 

“Allow me to report, sir!” McCaw’s partner says. “We’ve brought a suspect into custody. She’s being held upstairs in the super’s office!”

“Good, gooooood,” Cabanela responds. “I’ll be right there. And just where is there?”

“Upstairs, sir,” McCaw answers. “Just past where you put your bike.”

“Thaaaaank you,” he answers. “I’ll just be heading on up there for an interview now. See you later, baby!” He prances back up the stairs and over towards the office. He’s been here before. Many a time, actually. Prof’s been a real help over these last few years. But nobody really knows about that.

But the person he sees when he gets up there surprises him.

“Lynne.” He looks at the patrolman keeping an eye on her. “Do me a soliiiiid, would you?”

The patrolman salutes. “Yessir!”

“Inspector Cabanela! I thought…I thought tonight was important.”

“Still got time to see you, baby,” he says. “Jowd’s on it. And you’re more important right now in this crisis.”

Lynne looks down. It pains him to see her distraught. She straightens up. “Wait. You said…crisis? Does that mean…I never even met that guy before tonight! I didn’t kill him!”

Hmm. So it sounds like Lynne doesn’t remember what Yomiel looks like, at least — it happened when she was young, at least, and the memory is probably hazy from how traumatic it must have been for her.

“Never? Then how’d you end up here, baby?”

“Well, uh, before tonight, that is…” Lynne raises a hand to the back of her neck sheepishly. “He reached out to me first, actually. He said that he had some important information about a case I’ve been working on.”

“Hmm…” Cabanela strokes his goatee. “Iiiii don’t believe your precinct assigned you to any big cases. Funny, isn’t it?”

“Huh?!” Lynne asks.

If he had to guess…she’s probably doing the same thing he and Jowd are. Trying to close a case that’s been open for far too long. Trying to heal Kamila’s heart.

Tonight is the last night. It only stands to reason that she’d be desperate.

“Don’t worry, baby. I don’t think you did it. I’m just tryna clear things up a little.” He smiles. It’s not as effective on her, since she knows him better, but it still works. “You’re not the type to shoot like that. And if anything ever happened to you…”

“Yeah,” Lynne says. “Yeah.” She swallows. “Inspector Cabanela…I have one question for you.”

“Go ahead, baby,” he says.

“Tonight is the night, right? That it…”

“I have noooo idea what you— Get down!” He shoves her out of the way as a bullet crashes through the window.

-

“Ngh.” What’s going on? Where is he? What…happened? “Lynne!”

“You’re awake,” a voice he doesn’t recognize says. “Great.”

“What’s…who am I?”

“You’re in the land of the dead,” the voice answers.

Cabanela — so that’s his name — opens his eyes.

“The…land of the dead?” he asks, right before he takes in who the voice belongs to. “You!”

“Huh?” the man who looks like Yomiel asks. Land of the dead…it would make sense. Yomiel is dead, after all. “I’m Sissel. And you’re Inspector Cabanela, I believe.”

“Thaaaaat’s right,” Cabanela answers. Sissel. That’s a name that pings some kind of recognition in him, but…he doesn’t know exactly where he’s heard it before. “So…I take it that I died, then?”

“You’re in the Ghost World,” ‘Sissel’ explains.

“I can’t be dead. Not tonight.”

“Someone told me that something very important was happening tonight,” Sissel continues. “If I had to guess, I’d say you were an important part of it. But…I can bring you back. Learn what happened to you.”

“Iiiiiii’m not sure who you think you are, but I don’t think anyone has that power,” Cabanela says.

“Let me show you, then,” Sissel says.

Cabanela’s death plays out in front of him — from the walk up the stairs to his conversation with Lynne.

“So that’s it, then?” Cabanela asks. “How are you gonna stop it?”

“That’s up to me,” Sissel answers. “I’ll do my best to stop whoever’s shooting you. I’ve already saved other lives before.”

“It’s in your hands now, baby. Nothin’ much I can do to stop it.” Cabanela leans back.

Sissel hums and gets to work. What that work is, Cabanela doesn’t quite understand at first. But then Sissel does…something to the van door and it opens.

A trick. Something that could happen in a locked room. Something that could happen…without a person there to witness it or to explain just what had happened.

Could this have happened to Alma?

Sissel drops some crates on top of the would-be assassin’s head. “And there we go.”

“Thank you,” Cabanela says. “You’ve helped more than you know.”

“Of course,” Sissel says. “Do you…know anything? About me?”

“Whyyyyyy do you ask?”

Sissel sighs. “Figured it was worth a shot, at least. It looks like you don’t have the answers I’m looking for, though. Let’s get back to the present now, shall we?”

Cabanela nods.

-

“It’s the night that her case gets filed away. Forever.” Lynne grips her arm and looks away. “Inspector Cabanela, I know you know what I’m talking about.”

“Well, Iiiiiii’m certainly not at liberty to tell you about it, baby,” Cabanela says. He needs to talk to Jowd as soon as possible — he needs to tell Jowd what he’s just learned. What the key is. “I gotta go now, baby. Get some sleep, would you?”

Lynne rolls her eyes. “You worry too much, Inspector.”

“I thiiiiiink in our line of work, it’s justified.” Cabanela turns towards the door. “I’ll just be going now. I’ll be sending that patrolman riiiiiiight back in, so don’t try to escape now, would you?”

“I won’t!” Lynne says.

-

Back to the precinct.

“Heeeyyyyy, Jowd,” Cabanela says. “Heard anything from Rindge?”

“I checked in with him,” Jowd responds. “He just arrived at the park. He’s keeping a lookout on things now.” His face twists. “At first when I called, someone else responded. He called himself…the guardian of the park?”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting,” Cabanela says. “They’ve got Lynne held up in the super’s office. They think she did it, baby.”

“Lynne?” Jowd asks. “Who…what was going on?”

“I don’t know,” Cabanela answers quietly. “The body…it was Yomiel.”

“Yomiel?” Jowd says suddenly. “No…there’s no way.”

“That’s what I thought,” Cabanela says. “Buuuuuut I have no idea who else it could be. It was…he was wearing the same suit still. Same hair. It’s like the past ten years never happened. Lynne didn’t remember him, though.”

Jowd frowns. “I can see why she doesn’t. It must have been difficult for her. But I could never forget what his face looked like.”

“Me neither.” Cabanela places a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “Iiiiii’m not sure what to do, but we’ll figure this out. I know it.” He smiles. “You and me, baby. Together we’re unstoppable.”

Jowd nods. “Indeed.”

“Iiiiiii’m gonna head down to the chief’s office now,” Cabanela says. “I think heeeee might know something about Lynne’s case.”

“Alright. If it’s really Yomiel, then…”

Cabanela nods. “Lotta things going down in this town tonight, baby. It’s up to us to unravel this.”

“And Alma…” Jowd sighs. “I hope we can put her to rest tonight.”

Cabanela takes a deep breath. “I hope so too.”

“This…with Yomiel…it can’t be a coincidence with what happened ten years ago. There’s just something we’re missing.” Jowd sighs. “I don’t know what the connection could be…or if there even is one. Maybe we’re just chasing ghosts.”

Ghosts. The man that had called himself Sissel.

Would Jowd even believe him?

“Speaking of, actually,” Cabanela says, “there’s juuuuuust one more thing I have to tell you. There’s another player out there tonight. He saved my life. And he looked just like Yomiel.”

“...how?” Jowd asks.

“Took out an assassin. Called himself…Sissel. Strangest thing was, I think he miiiiiight be a ghost.”

“A ghost.” Jowd crosses his arms. “I don’t want to say you’ve lost your touch, but…”

“I’m not quite sure either,” Cabanela admits. “Buuuuuuut I’m keeping it in mind. For when I find out.”

Jowd nods. “Alright.”

Cabanela wonders if Jowd picked up what he was trying to say. That it could have been…that it could have been what happened to Alma.

-

“The super sent us the security footage,” Chief says. Cabanela can hear the almost imperceptible sound of him rubbing his feet together under the desk and fights the urge not to wrinkle his nose in disgust. “I hate to say it, Inspector, but it looks like your protégé is in real trouble.”

“Just show it to me, would you?” Cabanela winks and takes a position to watch as the projector springs downwards. It shows the edge of the junkyard near the fence. He watches Yomiel as he stands in front of Lynne. Yomiel? Maybe it is Sissel. Maybe Yomiel got himself a copycat, ten years later.

The man in the red suit flops back against the fencepost as Lynne takes out her pistol. She fires two shots, looking for all the world like she’s struggling. The first hits the man’s box. The second hits the man. The man flops forwards to the ground as Lynne puts her gun back.

“That’s not where the body was found,” Cabanela points out. He grabs the remote and fast-forwards the footage.

Huh. A black cat in the box knocked down the body. Odd.

“I don’t know what’s going on, Inspector, but…this looks like a case for the Special Investigations Unit.” The chief frowns. “He looks an awful lot like that suspect from all those years ago.”

“You’re right.” Cabanela frowns. “Yomiel…I didn’t think I’d ever see that face again. But to think that maybe…”

“What are you thinking, Inspector?” the chief asks.

“Oh, don’t worry, Chief,” Cabanela says. “I’m sure it’ll be alright, as long as I’m on the case.”

“Still keeping an eye on Point X?”

“Of cooooooourse,” he answers. “I’ve got some officers I trust keeping a lookout on the scene. And Jowd’s got an eye on them, too.” He’d trust Jowd with his life.

“I always wondered…” The chief trails off, and then straightens himself back up a little bit. “I always wondered how you were always so sure that Jowd didn’t do it.”

“I trust him,” Cabanela answers. “If he says he didn’t do it, he didn’t do it. Plain and simple, baby. Just the way he’s always liked it.”

“I suppose that’s true.” The chief sighs. “Still, I have to wonder after all these years…he could’ve been letting the case grow cold for his own sake.”

Well, Cabanela knows that’s…true. At least a little bit true. Jowd’s not doing it for himself, though. He’s got his little girl at home to look after. Kamila…Cabanela hopes she’s safe at home, and not doing anything else besides reading her book and listening to her music.

“Jowd’s not like that. Trust me,” Cabanela says. “I wouldn’t have kept him so long as my partner if I didn’t.”

They have to stop this. It’s simple enough.

“Chief,” he continues, “I’m heading back to the scene of the murder. Lynne should still be there. I’ll take her back to the precinct. Didn’t get the chance earlier.”

The chief nods. “Alright, Inspector.”

Cabanela heads out and bikes back to the junkyard.

But when he gets back to the office, it’s…empty. Or at least the person he’s looking for isn’t here.

“Where’d Lynne go?” Cabanela asks the nearest patrolman.

“I don’t know!” he answers, putting his hands up. “You left, called me back in, and she was already gone!”

Ah.

Cabanela sits down at the super’s desk. “Heeeeeey, chief. I need a favor. Put out an APB on Lynne for me, wouldya?”

“Got a runner on our hands?”

“Indeeeeeed. Now, I don’t like what’s happened, but that doesn’t change that she’s pretty heavily involved in what’s gone down here. And since she ran, it means she has something she wants to hide from me.”

“I’ll do that right away, then,” the chief answers. “Thank you, Inspector.”

“Don’t thank me yet, baby. I’ve stiiiiiiiill got work to do.” Cabanela sets down the phone. And then it starts ringing again.

“Chief told me you were here,” Jowd says, his low timbre vibrating over the line. “I just thought I should inform you that they’ve found Lynne. She’s at Point X.”

“What? Why is she at Point X?” Cabanela demands.

“Dunno. Detective Rindge just informed me.” Jowd sighs. “Do you think that maybe she got in over her head? That she was the one who scheduled the meeting because she was looking for answers?”

“Could be anything,” Cabanela answers. “I’m not sure exactly what she’s been up to tonight. But she told me something iiiiiiiinteresting earlier.”

“What’d she say?”

“She said that tonight was the night that her case was being filed. And she asked me to tell her about Alma.”

“I…” Jowd trails off. “That’s concerning. But I don’t think Lynne has the resources to arrange that sort of meeting.”

“That’s true,” Cabanela admits. “She told me when I asked her that Yomiel had asked her to meet. I’m not sure she was exactly…looking before now. When the opportunity strikes, you’ve got to take it.”

“Like tonight, then?” Jowd asks. “Rindge was heading in, last I heard. He should be talking to Lynne.”

“Thaaaaanks.” Cabanela sighs. “Keep me updated, will you?”

“Of course,” Jowd answers. “I wouldn’t leave my partner in the dark.”

-

Cabanela heads down to the basement.

“Heeeeeey, Prof,” he says as he hops down the stairs. “Get a good look at that body yet?”

“We already knew it was Yomiel,” he answers. Lovey-Dove coos atop his head. “Can’t conduct a proper autopsy, though. Could run some other tests…”

“Why nooooot?”

“Take a look for yourself,” he answers. Cabanela approaches the table. The man attempts to make an incision. The incision instantly heals. “I suspect the healing factor is the Temsik shard lodged in him.”

“Faaaaascinating.” Cabanela looks over the body.

“It’s a corpse, to put it shortly — he’s not truly alive. Somehow or another…he’s inhabiting his own body.” Lovey-Dove coos, as if to punctuate that ominous remark.

“I learned earlier tonight that ghosts are real,” Cabanela says. “That could be it. I just still don’t understand how.”

“Hmm.” He runs a scanner over the body. “Same radiation as the park, though. You’ve got eyes on that?”

“Yeah,” Cabanela answers. “Rindge was put there for the stakeout. We’re fiiiiiiiiine. Everything’s under control.”

That’s when the phone rings.

“Cabanela? Are you there?” Jowd asks, sounding more panicked now.

“What’s wrong?” he demands.

“It’s Kamila.” Cabanela could swear that his heart stops beating for a moment. “They’ve kidnapped her.”

“What?!”

“The demand is my life,” Jowd says. “They want me to surrender myself for her.”

“No,” Cabanela says.

“I have two hours to respond before they kill her,” Jowd says. “I know you can take care of her. You’ve been helping me out for years. I know you can do this, Cabanela.”

“You said two hours, right?” Cabanela says. “I’m going to figure out how she was kidnapped and rescue her before it’s too late.”

“It’d take a miracle to pull that off,” Jowd says.

“And if anyone’s in the business of miracles, it’s me, baby,” he answers. “I’ll find Kamila. Mark my words.”

“Good luck,” Jowd answers.

Cabanela puts down the receiver. “I’m afraid I have other business to attend to, Prof. Catch you later!”

He just nods in response. Lovey-Dove nods alongside him.

Cabanela walks up the stairs and hops on his bike. Time to go. Where could the kidnappers have taken them?

Maybe he’ll start by checking in on Point X. Lynne’s probably left at this point, but Memry and Rindge will still be there.

-

Cabanela sits down at a booth in the Chicken Kitchen and rings the bell three times.

“Memry,” he remarks. “Sit down. Did anyone come in tonight that was suspicious?”

“Besides that other detective?” Memry remarks. “And I’m not supposed to sit.”

Cabanela waves his hand. “Don’t wooooooorry about losin’ your job. It’s not like you’re gonna be here after tonight, baby.”

Memry sighs. “Don’t remind me! I loved the extra pay. Both from here and from the boss. I was making so much moolah it was worth all the crap I get being a waitress.”

Cabanela raises an eyebrow. Then again, she is on the job while she’s here, so she should be getting paid as a detective and as a waitress. Not that waitressing pays well, but depending on the tips she’s getting…he supposes he could understand why she’d want to stay longer in her position.

“Actually, there were a couple people upstairs earlier,” she says. “I tried to plant a bug on them, but Rindge told me that it didn’t work and all he was getting was the chef, for whatever reason. Could’ve sworn I put it on the chicken I was getting to them, but…I guess I’ll never find out what was in that giant suitcase they had. Seemed pretty heavy, too. The guy was having trouble carrying it. I bet that woman he was with could’ve carried it no problem, though. She was pretty strong, if you catch my drift.”

Cabanela rolls his eyes. “And where did they go after that?”

“Not sure,” Memry answers. “But whoever they were waiting for didn’t show up.”

“Iiiiiiiinteresting,” he says. “What’d they look like?”

“The guy was wearing a hat, and he was always a little hunched over. The woman was taller than him, even without her heels. She had a really wild hairstyle, though. Blonde hair, all around her in a spiral. Kinda wish my hair were long enough to do that, but then again, I don’t want to have to deal with it when it gets that long.”

“Detective,” he says, “do you have aaaaaaany idea where they went?”

“Nope! I wish I could tell ya. They left on a motorcycle, I think. Rindge might have the plate number. I heard he was lonely in that park…”

“They might come back,” Cabanela says. “Stay here until the restaurant closes, yeah? After that, you can hang out with him aaaaaaaall you want.”

“Fine, fine.” She rolls her eyes. “Wouldn’t want to get written up tonight.”

Cabanela leaves the restaurant and rides over to the park.

“Stop the park from being turned into a housing site!” a young man says, waving around leaflets. “Protect Temsik, rock of the gods!”

Cabanela grabs a leaflet just to placate him, and then jaunts on towards where Rindge is looking out over the edge, in the direction of the Chicken Kitchen.

“Inspector Cabanela!” Rindge says, straightening up suddenly. “Sir!”

“Relaaaaaaax,” Cabanela says, leaning up against the railing. “I’m just here to ask you something, baby. Did you spot a couple carrying a large suitcase? Memry in there seems to think youuuuuu might have a plate number for me.”

“I saw them leaving on a motorcycle,” Rindge answers, as impassive as ever. “I couldn’t see the plate number, though. Too small. They were heading east, though.”

“Thaaaaaank you,” Cabanela responds. “East it is, then!”

East. What was in that direction? Where would make for a good hideout for a couple criminals?

Oh.

Jowd and Kamila had moved out of their old house a few months after Alma’s death due to the fact that Jowd hadn’t wanted Kamila to stick around there so long afterwards. The house had become derelict since, and known as something that only teenagers occasionally looked through for kicks, to see if the house was haunted. It’d make the perfect place for something like this.

Cabanela gets on his bike and rides over there. There are some candles lit in the front room. He sneaks his way in instead of announcing his presence just to find that there’s a man sleeping hunched over that matches Memry’s vague descriptions…and Amelie, the Justice Minister’s daughter. What is she doing here?

(At least it’s not Kamila.)

“Hello, Inspector.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of that somewhat familiar voice.

“Sissel,” he manages to respond, “whaaaaaat are you doing here?”

“I was listening in on their conversation,” Sissel answers, raising one arm to shrug. “Couldn’t let the little lady stay kidnapped. Though I didn’t realize she was…”

“That’s not Kamila,” Cabanela says.

“I know that,” Sissel answers. “They got the wrong girl. She’s sick, though. I feel bad for her. Managed to get her free, but…not sure how to get her out. Get her out of here before the lady comes back, okay? I should go.”

Cabanela nods. “Alright. I’ll get her back to her family. I’m sure they’re worried about her. Sissel…”

“Do you need a favor from me?” he asks. “I’m already helping Lynne, so my plate is pretty full, but…”

“Make sure she gets through this night,” Cabanela says. “But I think you’re already doin’ that. So just keep on keeping on, yeah?”

Sissel smiles, the genuine happiness looking strange with the face he wears. “That won’t be a problem, Inspector.”

Cabanela snaps back into the real world and picks Amelie up.

The man straightens up. Cabanela freezes.

“Just my imagination…” He falls back asleep.

Amelie sniffles. Cabanela takes them both outside before setting her down.

“Heeeeeey,” he says, kneeling down to meet her at her own level. “How are you doin’?”

She sniffles again, and then sneezes. “I wanna go home. You’re a police officer, right? Can you take me home?”

“Yeah, baby, yeah,” he says. “I can get you home.”

“Okay,” Amelie answers. She wipes her nose on her sleeve. “Mommy and Daddy both said that I shouldn’t go out, since I’m sick like this, but I had to get something for Daddy.” There’s a lighter hidden up the sleeve of her nightgown. “Tonight is his birthday, but Mommy forgot, since she’s trying to finish her book tonight.”

“I’ll make sure it gets to him,” Cabanela says. He grabs his bike and places her on the seat, and then grabs the handlebars, letting her grab onto him. He wheels the bike towards her house. “And you, too.”

“Stop right there.”

Cabanela reaches into his jacket for his gun. The woman has long blonde hair, falling around her in rings. Just like Memry described. She has a riding crop, too.

He grabs his badge first. “Inspector Cabanela, Special Investigations Unit. You’re under arrest for kidnapping.” He then reaches for his handcuffs.

“Hmph.” She strikes him. He flinches, puts down the kickstand so Amelie doesn’t fall, and advances on her, cuffing her to a nearby pole.

He flips the kickstand back up and keeps walking Amelie towards the street corner.

“Heyyy, Jowd, I got some gooooood news, baby.”

“Really?” Jowd asks, voice sounding rushed. “What is it?”

“Iiiiiii found her!” Cabanela answers. “Wasn’t Kamila that was kidnapped, though.”

“It wasn’t?”

“As far as Iiiiii know, Kamila’s still at Lynne’s place,” he says. “Say hi, Amelie.” He offers the receiver over to her.

“Um. Hi?” She coughs a couple times.

“Thaaaaanks.”

“Is that the justice minister’s daughter?” Jowd asks.

“That it is,” Cabanela answers. “I’ll be getting her home now, and then I’m headin’ over to Lynne’s apartment to check on Kamila.”

“Thank you,” Jowd answers, voice rumbling. “I’m…I’m not happy that someone else was kidnapped, but I’m glad Kamila’s safe.”

“That’s juuuuuuust fine,” Cabanela answers. “Understandable, even.”

He still remembers the pang of relief that he had felt when it hadn’t been Kamila in there. When he had seen Amelie, sniffling and sneezing instead.

“Then I suppose I’ve got to focus on the case,” Jowd says.

“We can focus on the case when I get back, baby,” Cabanela answers. “I’ll see you soon.”

Jowd hangs up. He’s always been a concise man — that’s one of the things that had made them fit so well together.

“Who was that? And who’s Kamila?” Amelie asks.

“Thaaaaat was my partner in the force,” Cabanela answers. “He’s Kamila’s father. And Kamila’s who we thought got kidnapped, not you.”

“Oh! So you two are her dads?” she asks.

Cabanela very nearly stops in his tracks. “Who, me? I’m noooooot her dad. Nosiree.”

“But you said that you were partners?”

“Detective partners, not like that,” Cabanela answers. “Which way was your house?”

“Ummmmmmm.” She deliberates on that for a little bit. “I think it’s that way?” She points to the west. Fair enough.

-

“We’re here!” Amelie lets go and hops off the bike. “Thanks, Inspector!” She waves as she walks into the house, sneezing one more time for good measure.

He hopes she’ll be okay. Can’t be easy to get kidnapped while sick.

He hops on his bike and rides back to the precinct. Time for him to touch base with Jowd.

That’s when the car hits him.

-

“Seems like you and Lynne are competing to see who can die the most tonight,” Yo—Sissel says. He doesn’t sound like Yomiel, at least — but the face being the same still throws Cabanela off when he’s not anticipating it.

“Is Lynne okay?” Cabanela asks.

“She’s fine,” Sissel answers. “But you’re not.”

“Iiiiiii got hit by a car,” Cabanela says. “What can you do to prevent that?” 

“You’d be surprised,” Sissel answers. “Four minutes is a long time to change things.”

Cabanela just lets Sissel do his thing. As they watch…

Ah. Yomiel was driving the car that hit him. So it was probably intentional. Dammit.

“Who…is that?” Sissel asks. “And why does he have my face?”

Cabanela just sighs. “Iiiiiii’m not sure,” he answers.

“Let’s see what I can do,” Sissel says. “We might have to…get creative.”

“Well, a little creativity never hurt anything,” Cabanela answers, flashing a smile at Sissel. “You’ve gooooot this!”

“Thanks,” Sissel says, a little sheepish.

They start on the road, in front of where he died. Sissel takes him over on a leaf that drifts over, and eventually they manage to come down on top of the car. Yomiel has been…outside Jowd and Kamila’s house. What’s he waiting for?

And then the phone rings.

“Hello?” Yomiel snaps.

“Beauty’s gone! And the kid!” the man says on the other end of the line. That’s the man Cabanela had seen inside — the one that had been napping when he took Amelie back home. “Beauty was supposed to be back a while ago, ya see…”

Yomiel sighs, clearly annoyed. “I’m keeping an eye on the kid’s house. I haven’t seen her or her father all night. I don’t have time for your wild goose chases. You can live without your partner, can’t you?”

The man visibly shrinks. “Beauty’s my everything!”

“I’ll be coming to you,” Yomiel says. “I’m on my way now. You better not screw this up.”

Sissel jumps over to the car and triggers the lock.

Yomiel jiggles the door. “I don’t remember locking this…” He pulls out the keys.

“Looks like we didn’t buy ourselves that much time,” Cabanela says.

“No, but it’s still a little more time for you to get across that road safely,” Sissel says.

Yomiel finally gets the key and unlocks the car.

“Now what can we do?” Sissel asks.

“Do you…not know how a car works?” Cabanela asks.

“I barely remember what a car is!” Sissel responds.

“What?!”

“I’ve been trying to find my identity,” Sissel says. He looks over at Yomiel. “He probably has the key to all that. I don’t know why he’s just like me, but…that’s what I’ve been trying to do tonight.”

“A noble quest indeed!” Cabanela says.

“Do…you know anything?”

“I don’t think now’s the best time to talk about this,” he answers.

“After I save you,” Sissel says. “How do I operate this?” The gear shift.

“Not while the car is moving!” Cabanela says. “Are you crazy? You’re going to get him killed!”

Sissel attempts to move it. “It’s not moving anyway.” He looks around a little more, and swivels the mirror.

The world turns blue in front of them.

“Now then,” Yomiel says, focusing directly on Sissel, “I knew there was another ghost around town tonight, but…I didn’t think it’d be me of all people that was going around and stopping things from happening the way they’re supposed to. Not sure why you’ve got my face, but…things will still go down the way they’re meant to. However you’re trying to stop me…it won’t work. I will wipe out the last traces of Temsik before this night is over — and that will include you.”

Sissel sucks in a sharp breath.

The car speeds up. Cabanela, still alive, stops just before crossing the road instead of going.

The world turns red again.

“I don’t think that was how we were supposed to pull that off,” Sissel admits.

“Hey, I’m alive, aren’t I?” Cabanela asks. “I guess he’ll make it to his destination this time, baby. What’d you say last time? Go back to the new present?”

“Yes,” Sissel answers. “But…before I return you, I have to ask: did you know that man?”

“I did,” Cabanela answers. “He was shot earlier tonight. And I suspect his involvement in some other incidents. Especially after what I witnessed just now…”

“But me?”

“His name wasn’t Sissel,” Cabanela says. “Good luck figuring it out.”

Sissel looks down, but when Cabanela’s next aware, he’s back on his bike. He looks both ways before crossing this time, and makes it across without getting hit by any surprise cars.

-

“Kamila?” he asks. Missile barks when he walks in and runs around his feet.

She sets down her book. “Hey!” she answers. “Missile, could you please quiet down?”

Cabanela squats down and pets Missile.

“The neighbor said she’d try to knock the wall down if she heard Missile barking too much again,” Kamila says, sounding apologetic.

“You’re okay, right?”

“Of course I am!” she answers. “Tonight’s been…good, though I am a little sad that Lynne can’t hang out with me. She said that she’d be busy tonight.”

“And why’d she say that, baby?” Cabanela knows that if Lynne had really intended to stay out the entire night she would have probably told Kamila to stay home.

“I…don’t know, actually.” Kamila frowns. “Why are you here?”

“Your dad was worried about you. Iiiiiiii told him you were fine, but he wanted me to check up on you, juuuuuuust in case something bad happened.”

“Phone’s broken,” Kamila says casually. “I accidentally dropped the receiver earlier.”

“Huh.” Cabanela looks down at the phone. “Well then, Iiiiiii suppose we’ll have to find some other way to talk to your dad. I’ll go ask next door, yeah?”

“Okay,” Kamila says.

Cabanela hops over towards the apartment next door. “Hellooooooo,” he says when the door opens to him.

“And just what brings…a police officer to interrupt me on the holiest of nights?”

Great. It’s the Justice Minister’s wife. What was her name again…?

“My sinceeeeerest apologies, madame,” he says, bowing. “Iiiiiiii just need to borrow your phone for a moment. Could I?” He flashes his most charming smile at her.

“Well,” she says, “who am I to say no to a man like you?” She arches an eyebrow. “Phone’s over by the bed.”

“I’ll be quick, I promise,” he says. He saunters over the phone.

“Cabanela?” Jowd asks. “You were right about the ghosts.”

“That’s one hell of an opener, baby,” Cabanela says. “Buuuuuut I was going to tell you something first. Kamila’s just fine. I just checked up on her.”

“That’s good,” Jowd says. “But…you said a ghost might have caused Alma’s death. I just spoke to one earlier.”

“Greaaaaat,” Cabanela says. “You can tell me all about it later, baby. But I am currently borrowing this phone, so Iiiiiiiiii should probably be getting off.”

“That you should,” Jowd says, a tinge of warmth in his voice. “I’ll see you back at the station, Cabanela.”

He hangs up the phone.

“Thanks again,” he says, firing off a salute towards her. She’s too engrossed in her work to look up, pecking away at the keys one at a time. It strikes him as an awfully inefficient way to type, but then again, what does he know?

-

“You met Sissel?” Cabanela asks when he gets back to the station.

“Yes,” Jowd answers. “The only issue is…how can we prove it? How can we prove that it was a ghost?”

“I don’t know,” Cabanela answers. “I don’t have all the answers, baby. But whatever’s out there tonight is trying to get rid of everything Temsik.”

“Temsik, huh?” Jowd asks. “It’s always going to come back to that day.”

Cabanela puts a hand on his partner’s shoulder. “You’re not a bad person. I know it.”

Jowd frowns. “I could’ve killed him. I might have, even. I’m not like you.” He plucks a speck of dirt off Cabanela’s shoulder. “My coat’s not exactly clean.”

Cabanela rakes a judgemental gaze over Jowd’s coat. “Clean enough, I’d say. You’re standing beside me now, aren’t you?”

“Just because you kept insisting that I had to be here,” Jowd responds. “I’m just along for the ride.”

“I disagree,” Cabanela says. “I don’t want to be here without you.”

Jowd nods.

“Have you heard anything about Lynne?” Cabanela asks, shifting the subject away after a moment of awkward silence.

“No,” Jowd answers. “She hasn’t been seen since the Chicken Kitchen. We’re still looking, though.”

“Alright,” Cabanela says. “I think we need to prioritize Yomiel.”

“I agree,” Jowd says. “It has to be connected. Alma’s death, the meteor strike, Temsik….everything that happened tonight goes back to Temsik Park. The night’s wearing thin. Where would he go?”

“Maaaaaybe he’s trying to escape,” Cabanela says. “He’s working with the people that kidnapped Kamila.”

“And McCaw and his partner found someone crushed by the junkyard wrecking ball.” Jowd frowns. “It looks like he’s part of the same group that was at Point X earlier. Did we get any intel about them?”

“No,” Cabanela says. “I talked to Memry about them, and she said that they were the ones who kidnapped Kamila, buuuuuuuuut when she tried to plant a bug on them all she ended up with was the chef.”

“The…chef?” Jowd asks, confused. “What?”

“That’s what Rindge told me, at least,” Cabanela answers. “Iiiiiii’m not quite sure what went down.”

“I think I might have the answer to that.”

“Sissel,” Jowd says, offering him a warm smile. “It’s good to see you under better circumstances. Is someone dead?”

“Not right now,” Sissel answers. “It had to be the chef. The lady managed to figure out the bug. It caused that detective in green and Lynne to die.”

That…does not make sense at all.

“Could you please explain further?” Jowd asks.

“In the timeline where that undercover detective plants a bug on the chicken, one of them manages to figure out they’re being listened to, and when the bug got destroyed, the detective in green died,” Sissel explains, slower now. “I couldn’t save Lynne without saving him. But if it helps, I’m pretty sure they were waiting for the other man in red.”

“You saw him?” Jowd asks.

“I did,” Sissel says. “I’m…not sure what’s going on, but I have to talk to him again.”

“We’re trying to find him too,” Cabanela says. “He has answers for us relating to an incident we’re investigating.”

“Lynne told me a little about it,” Sissel admits, “but I didn’t get very much from her. A murder that happened five years ago, right?”

“Yes.” Jowd frowns.

“She said…it was something she wanted to do for you,” Sissel says, speaking directly to Jowd. “To repay you for what you did ten years ago.”

Jowd looks down. “Whatever she told you…I’m not as much of a hero as she thinks I am.”

“Sounded pretty heroic to me,” Sissel answers. “Lynne said you saved her life.”

“And I nearly killed someone else in the process.”

Cabanela frowns at that comment.

“Doesn’t matter if it didn’t happen,” Sissel says with a shrug. Cabanela flinches.

“That’s not how I see it.” Jowd’s face is impassive. He’s shut down. Cabanela’s seen that face enough to know it’s high time they shifted the subject of conversation to something else.

“Anything else you have to tell us, Sissel?” Cabanela asks.

Sissel hums. “I learned my name from some people on a submarine. They said they were looking for a man that looked like me, going by the name Sissel. And that I was supposed to give them information.”

Jowd looks over at Cabanela. “The docks?”

Cabanela nods. He could go and make his escape down there to that submarine…

“I’ll see if I can find my way down there too,” Sissel says.

“I’ll call the office there for you,” Jowd says. “That’ll make it easier.”

“Thanks.”

“It’s the least I can do for you after you saved our lives tonight.”

“Don’t thank me.” Sissel seems to relax, despite the words. “I’m just looking for answers, and you all seem to have them. As long as I still don’t know the mystery of me…I’ll keep going.” He snaps them back into the real world.

“I will neeeeever be used to that,” Cabanela admits.

“It’s easier if you can sense him,” Jowd admits. “He’s waiting in the pen holder.”

Cabanela raises an eyebrow. “And how do you know that, baby?”

“I can…sense him, in a manner of speaking,” Jowd admits. “Call it detective’s instinct.”

“Like you’d know much about instinct,” Cabanela responds, mostly on impulse.

“You were right,” Jowd says. “It never sat right with me to just trust that I was right about what happened five years ago. But you said…”

“‘...if you can’t trust your instincts, trust me,’” Cabanela fills in. “I remember.”

-

It had been five years ago when the payphone on the street corner of Cabanela’s usual route home rang.

He was curious enough to pick up.

“Cabanela?” Jowd had asked, sounding like he was about to cry. Cabanela hadn’t heard him sound like that since his wedding, and this hadn’t sounded like a happy occasion. “Please. I need you here.”

“Are you at home?” he had asked, swinging onto his bike.

“Yes,” Jowd had answered, and Cabanela rode off as fast as his bike could go. When he got to the house, the sight in front of him had been astonishing, to say the least.

Alma was dead. Shot in the chest. Clean. Hit the heart. Cabanela remembers thinking that at the very least she had died a quick death.

And above her, Kamila had been crying, with Jowd soothing her.

“It wasn’t supposed to do that!” Cabanela had heard.

“Report,” Cabanela had snapped, using the same tone as the chief, just to get them to snap out of it.

Jowd looked up. “Thank you.”

“What’s going on?” Cabanela grabbed a pair of gloves from his jacket. They weren’t crime scene forensic style, but they were good enough. The gun on the wall… 

“It’s not loaded, but the ammo’s not hard to find if Alma ever needed it,” Jowd admitted softly. “I taught her to shoot.”

“Every gun needs someone to pull the trigger,” Cabanela had answered, and Jowd had flinched. “So who could’ve pulled this from up here?”

“It was me,” Jowd says. “I shot her. With my gun.”

His tone is too flat. 

“I don’t believe that for a second, baby.” The barrel of the gun on the wall was still warm when Cabanela pressed a hand to it.

Jowd had pulled Kamila in closer. Cabanela watched as her tears soaked into his coat.

“It was her birthday, wasn’t it?” Cabanela had asked, softer now. “Hell of a way to celebrate.”

Jowd flinched. “Watch your language.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Kamila had said again.

Cabanela knelt. “What do you mean, baby?”

“It was supposed to set off the party poppers,” she sobbed. “There was no string there. I’m not supposed to touch the gun.”

“I don’t know who did it,” Jowd said, “but my little girl’s not responsible for this.”

Cabanela looked at the gun in his hand. At the wall in front of him. At the decorations on the table, preparing for a party.

“She told me about it,” Jowd continued. “The machine. The cupid here…it’s supposed to face the table.”

“Then…something must have happened,” Cabanela said.

“I…don’t know what to think,” Jowd admitted. “Kamila, go up to your room. We’ll talk more later.”

Kamila nodded eagerly and scampered away.

“I know…I don’t want to think she could have done it,” Jowd continued. “But…the only person in the house was her. What else could it be? I want to say that she didn’t do it. I want more than anything to say that. But…”

“If you can’t trust your instincts, trust me,” Cabanela had told him. “I’m your partner. If I say she didn’t do it, she didn’t do it.”

They messed with the window, made the lock look like it was tampered with. There was an outside possibility now.

Cabanela had filed the reports, and tried not to think too hard about how he made himself accomplice to a crime.

-

“Sounds like you learned something from me after all,” Cabanela quips half-heartedly.

“It’s been years,” Jowd answers.

The lines start to blur after that long together. Cabanela knows Jowd as well as he knows himself. Maybe better, even.

Jowd picks up the phone and calls the docks.

“Sorry, I meant to dial someone else,” he says, and then puts down the phone. “Sissel should be on his way now. He’s not here.”

“Let’s go, then,” Cabanela says. “See if we can catch him.”

-

They find Yomiel uncovering a motorboat.

“So you’re not dead,” Yomiel says, directing the words to Jowd, bitterness seeping into his voice. “That just means I can do it myself.”

Cabanela reaches for the handcuffs in his coat’s inside pocket, and then he feels nothing at all.

-

The feel of a gun in his hand…the bang…what’s happening? Why can’t he do anything? He can’t see. He can’t feel. What’s around him? What’s happening?

-

When he comes to, he’s flat on the ground. Someone’s on top of his back.

“What’s going on?” Cabanela barks.

“Looks like you’re yourself again,” Lynne says from behind him. The weight gets off his back. He rolls over to see her and Jowd standing above him. “I managed to find my own way here, thanks to some intel Sissel gave me.” She offers him a hand. Cabanela takes it and pulls himself up. “Will someone just tell me what’s going on? I’ve been involved in this the whole time. Are you telling me that he’s the one who took me hostage?!”

“We need Sissel for this conversation,” Jowd just says, and they all pop back into the Ghost World.

“You two have been managing to dodge explaining this whole time,” Sissel says, blankly, without accusation despite the words. “There is no hiding here. Your thoughts are projected into speech. And yet…”

“His name is Yomiel,” Jowd says. “The man who took Lynne hostage. The man we’ve been chasing all night.”

Sissel’s form flickers and glitches before ultimately settling on a blue flame — one with sunglasses, but incorporeal nonetheless.

No more incorporeal than any other ghost, Cabanela supposes.

“I guess I know who he is, at least,” Sissel says. “But I’m not him.”

“No, you’re not,” Cabanela says. “That much has been clear from the start. The real Yomiel…”

Lynne gasps. “He killed Alma?!”

“That’s what we’ve been thinking, baby,” Cabanela says.

Sissel gestures over to Jowd. “He told me that you couldn’t solve the mystery until you found out about ghost tricks.”

Lynne looks down. “I’m sorry I’ve been getting in your way. Both of your ways. I didn’t realize it was all connected. I thought…I thought you had given up on it.”

“So you conducted your own investigation,” Cabanela says, “and you would’ve presented the findings to us if you had figured it out.”

“Well,” Lynne says, “I’m still not really sure. I’ve been hiding out here because it’s one of the shadier parts of town. It’s easy to stay away from the other officers.”

“Yomiel doesn’t just possess objects like Sissel does,” Jowd says. “He can also possess people.”

“So that’s what happened to me,” Cabanela says. “Did I…”

“Everyone but me’s currently alive,” Sissel says. “Missile helped.”

“Though I suspect one of my ribs is broken,” Jowd says dryly.

“Did Yomiel get away?” Cabanela asks.

“I think it’s more important that you’re alive,” Sissel says. “I have one more method of finding him. There’s a phone line to that submarine. And then…I guess from there it’ll be up to me. But what I do know is that whoever he’s working with has something planned for Yomiel and whatever Temsik is.”

“The park?” Lynne asks. “It’s always been named that…”

“He was hit by the meteor,” Jowd says. “That could be it.”

“I don’t have much longer here,” Sissel says. “Supposedly, I’m going to be gone once the morning comes. Not sure that’s true anymore, but…I have to find out the truth, and I think he’s the only one who knows.”

“Good luck,” Lynne says. “I’m rooting for you!”

“Thanks,” Sissel says.

“I know what happened to me now,” Lynne says. “He possessed me, didn’t he? I remember not being in control of myself. I can’t remember what actually happened, though…”

“There’s video footage from the surveillance footage of you shooting him,” Jowd says. “It’s irrefutable evidence. However, we also have evidence that he survived, unharmed. It’s likely that we could get the chief to drop your case.”

She perks up. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

“If anything, it’d fall under our purview, due to the…strangeness,” Jowd says.

“And weeeeeeee know for a fact that you didn’t kill him,” Cabanela says. “He’s still alive, after all.”

“More like he’s been dead the whole time,” Jowd says, frowning. “He said that to me while you were retrieving Amelie. He blames me for killing him. Was…”

“No,” Cabanela says. “You’re not right to blame yourself for it. It wasn’t you. It was never you.”

“He was going to make you shoot me,” Jowd says. “That’s what he did when he possessed you. You had your gun pointed at me. That was when Lynne came in.”

“Well, it’s not like anyone else was going to do anything.” She seems distinctly uncomfortable in a way that Cabanela doesn’t see often. “I mean, it sucks that I shot someone I barely knew, even if he did turn out to be totally alive and also evil. It would suck even harder to have shot someone I actually care about.”

“Thaaaaanks,” Cabanela says. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem!” she responds. “So, are you guys going to take me back to the station, then? I had a good run evading the law…”

“I don’t thiiiiiiink you’ll want to say that to the chief,” Cabanela says. The three of them walk back to the police car together.

“Then I just won’t,” she answers.

-

“It’s been a long night,” Jowd says.

The sun’s starting to rise. Cabanela hadn’t even noticed it was nearly dawn.

“We got a lot done,” Cabanela answers. “You think we need the SIU anymore now that we’ve solved the case?”

“We still need to find Yomiel,” Jowd says. “It’s not the end. We might know what happened, but…this isn’t over yet. Not until he can’t cause any more chaos.”

“I agree,” Cabanela says. “A new adventure awaits, baby!” He yawns. “But for now…I’m headin’ back home.”

“Have a good one,” Jowd says. “And I’ll see you then, too.”

Cabanela leaves and gets on his bike, taking one last look at the sunrise before riding off.

[possum-quesadilla]

Chapter 10 of Lonely Remnants, “Wildfires have been eating you inside my head, Trying to smoke you out or burn you alive in it”, is here! Strap in, folks. I can’t tell you how excited I am to share this one with you all.

PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS ATTACHED TO THIS CHAPTER AND PROCEED WITH CAUTION. THIS CHAPTER IS PARTICULARLY ROUGH. I KNOW I SAW THAT A LOT, BUT IT IS VERY TRUE HERE.

Extras! :)

- The lyrics for this chapter’s title are from “Please Just Stay Dead” by Nichole Dollanganger! They are meant to reflect how Lydia’s image of her bold, strong brother is being irreparably altered, maybe even ruined.

- “Like a doomed man trudging towards the gallows, sure but unsteady. Like a dead girl walking.” - Heheh, foreshadowing.

- “The trail led into the road. It ended on the other side, next to the memorial. Not before it was… smeared on the road. Splattered all about, like the cause of it had been… impacted. Her fears were confirmed when she found one of those strange paw / feet among the large, dark smudge of blood and goop in the road.” - Yep, they got hit by a car! Karma, I guess.

- “It was… feasting on some festering roadkill with a terribly feral and manic fervor.” - That was Lawrence’s last ditch effort to try and regain control and heal their body.

- “The side of his face the ear had fallen off of seemed to be following suit. It was starting to turn to the goop and slough off, part of the flesh hanging limply off the cheek and exposing his blackened, cracked jawbone.” - While the whole rejection idea is based on the ending of “Bride of Re-Animator”, this particularly horrific mental image is based on an effect from “Smile 2” that really stuck with me!

- “His dad and twin loved him, but it… it weren’t enough to counter the hatred of his mother.” - Lawrence’s accent fades away as the Shoggoth talks more and gains more control as he gets weaker.

- “Lousy bum’s been drinkin’ since he were ten years old.” - Not by choice! But the Shoggoth is being really judgy regardless.

- “Joined a band, saw the country, got his wrist broken by a boyfriend.” - Band mention! There’s a whole bunch of fun lore surrounding them that lives in my head. Also, the rotten boyfriend who broke his wrist was Cyrus! Can’t escape that fella.

- “It suddenly reached up, placing a hand over the left side of it’s face, covering up the exposed bone and one of it’s eyes.” - This was it trying to stop it’s face from falling apart more. It didn’t work.

- “Mrs. D helped him fix himself. Clean up all the broken pieces ‘n make somethin’ outta them.” - A reference to “Dead Mom”!

- “Of all of the moments in his long drive, of all of the cars he passed, he had to hit the one containing two of the people he loved most.” - This bit was inspired by a similar moment in the movie “Signs”.

- “She remained still as the grave.” - heheh, more foreshadowing.

- “No, Scarecrow. You died too.” - Woof. There’s been hints throughout. Hell, even in the start of the first chapter! - “She was the lucky one. By some miracle, she made it out with only some minor head trauma and the loss of a substantial amount of her hearing.” - I even put “Living Dead Girl” on the Lonely Remnants playlist for this purpose, lol.

- “ “I haven’t been very truthful at all.” It’s fingers brushed over the scales dotting it’s nose.” - Every time it lied, it gained a snake scale, since snakes represent deceit.

- “We are… human suffering, given form. Anguish and agony, writhing deep below the earth. I am of Lawrence’s. Of all the pain and hurt he felt.” - Yeah sorry it was a metaphor for trauma and self repression this whole time. Mostly. Also, this is what Otho meant when he said “… always were the most… potent out of all of us, little brother.”

- “No more watchin’, no more peepin’, and…” - This is a reference to “Bigtop Burger”. I couldn’t help myself. Cesare was my main inspiration for the Shoggoth.

- “… I could always feel him, faintly, in the back of my mind. Breathing in the dark.” - GOTCHA WITH ANOTHER “Asteroid City” REFERENCE!

- “I… I am just a beast of the stony soil.” - This is inspired by a famous line from “Pet Sematary”, which inspired Lonely Remnants! It’s the first horror story I read at eight years old, lol.

Tag list: @raineisinkless @c0zmo-writes @musical-fiend @katslitterbox

(Want to be tagged in future updates for CorpseJuice / LoopJuice? Let me know!)

[kyanitegem]

👁️👁️❓

Hi hewwo hi you've activated the OC infodumping session!

Theres quite a few of them so I'll just throw the big deal ones at you as an introduction!

I will give a quick content warning for body horror and blood for some of the images. those are at the end when im showing off my favourite oc

First up are the main group from my original OC world, the very originals for my cast of many morons who run around in my head rent free 24/7 365

Aurora, Avry, Jessi, Lusikka, Amaris, and Wrath

Aurora was the first oc out of all of them! She started out as my fursona back when i was starting to be online regularly, now though im well past that since Arty borty here has well since become her own character rather than just me but furry

Aurora is a Fennec Lyotternx, otherwise known as a furred folk Chimera in the oc's world. It simply means both her parents were a mix of some form so she's roughly 1/3 fennec fox, 1/3 lynx and 1/3 otter. She come form a long line of furred folk who protect a large forested area outside of a small town called Cedar Creek. She's also a magic user! She uses Phytomancy - plant magic. Though she's not great at it.

Avry Rayne is in fact my daughter i love her so so so much she's great! one of The Big Three ocs who are constantly on my mind at any given moment (you'll see the other two soon). if I were to actually take the time to write anything out for this group of ocs she's probably the closest to a main character. In a setting full of furries, mythical creatures, modern day magic etc etc She got the short end of the stick. literally nothing magic or supernatural wise. She's just you're regular ol average person trying to survive fighting a literal demon of shadow taking over the world for her own amusement. She's got mommy issues and is head over heels for her best friend, Jessi.

Jessi is the resident shapeshifter which Ive done some worldbuilding on and posted about awhile back here and probably the most level headed of the three. She certainly has her head on straight more or less. She's strongly tied to dragons which are a critically endangered species in this world. Jess is part shapeshifter and part werecreature- specifically a weredragon. Due to the fact she can't control it, her shapechange on the fullmoon resembles more the wolfman style of werewolves than just a straight change to the animal itself. The fact she can't control it is one of her biggest fears and around the time of a full moon she'll run off deep into the forest to get as far away from humanity as possible, hoping to lessen the chance of the weredragon hunting anyone she cares about.

Amaris is the shadow demon who is causing problems on purpose for fun. She revels in chaos and wants to see the world turn to absolute madness. in this world she is the source of all your sleep paralysis demon stories. She's actually an entity from another dimension who was cast out for an attempted hostile takeover of her home realm. She has complete control over shadows, to the extent that she has her own sort of backrooms esque shadow passages she uses to get around quickly. So long as she can fit through a shadow she can essentially teleport through it. Its not that hard for her to fit through things though. the small stature of 4'9" helps a bit.

Wrath meanwhile is whats known as an Incarnate. Incarnates are the physical manifestation of concepts and ideas. So like how we imagine Death as a skeleton in black robes with a scythe would be considered an incarnate in this world. There's only one of Each emotion and as we can guess, Wrath is anger incarnate. She's found herself working with Amaris to help spread chaos and destruction around the world after the shadow demon broke her free of her confinement by the Emotion Manifestation Obtainment organization (E.M.O for short) Wrath is a living weapon essentially and can't die so long as something out there can experience anger. Her limbs can shapeshift into any melee weapon and she gets stronger the more things around her experience her emotion. This can backfire though and she can get overloaded with anger and quite literally explode, having to reform her physical body at a later point.

Lusikka is a petty thief who has a lot of issues. She's an orphan who took to shoplifting for attention and well turned out she got really good at it. She's the leader of a group known as the silverware trio and uses a giant spoon to fight with, as silly as that sounds. She and the other two (Forcella and Kiridashi) started as a team of supervillians in their own world where they had a rogues gallery of food themed heroes who kept trying to foil their plans. This is where Lusi's dislike for tacos comes from. Now its just because she can't handle spice at all. She gets better and ends up with a wife and kids and she loves them so very much.

She still can't stand Avry being obnoxious though. something something shortest temper imaginable.

moving on from that setting,

BLAIR! Blair Daniels-Anderson my beloved! Another one of The Big Three who are ever present. She's my far cry 5 player character and she has like the most stereotypically country song background story imaginable. its fitting for her and her terminal yeehaw brainworms.

Anyways, Blair's first wife divorces her, takes the house and the car and here she is planning to move back home to Calgary to pick up the pieces and then she gets stuck dealing with a religious cult and stuck in hope county Montana where she continues to have a bad time alongside @rainydaze-rhys 's OC Rook. (Rhys if you're reading this hi hewwo hi bestie!)

I Love the wives very much

and of course, we have the scifi setting thats also created with Rainydaze. while theres a spaceship crew of 12 and six of them are mine, you'll find that THE BLORBO of all time resides here.

Meet Colby! I love her, she has many much issues and is named after 3 different cheeses!

yes THIS is the one that has my brain in a chokehold. she is the one who's CONSTANTLY being rotated in the brain like a rotisserie chicken.

Colby grew up on Saturn's moon Titan dreaming of being able to see the universe. She joins the MIRA crewmate system and works on the Skeld ship as the ship's cook. They end up infected with a symbiotic alien parasite that shows up as all kinds of body horror on them. They're inspired by The Thing from the movie... well... The THING.

so like Colby gets their want to explore the universe but it comes at the cost of being permanently infested with an alien parasite that can and will do anything to make sure it and its host survive, which includes eating people. of course the crew has a medical scanner for respawning purposes so they're fine. but there sure do be a LOT of murdering from everyone on this ship.

She also ends up dating the ships medical AI who is an evil scientist and i love her very much also. incredibly normal about both Colby and their GF, Micah, who belongs to Rainydaze-Rhys.

heres more art of the blorbo of all time!!!

Your honour, She is stupidt

[mcytconfession]

Woo… Light vent here with lots of words, but a soft tone I hope. Had to get thoughts out so I can sleep so bear with me.

Just came across a well-reblogged post full of people dogpiling on a server's canon story event that played a large role in the series plot, with users talking about how they hate any fandom content that interprets this event as something the character "did on purpose," or with any sign of them not being morally pure.

Their stated view was that character only engaged in X behavior to protect another character, with users shouting thanks to OP for saying they hate other views and that they agree this is the only clear way to interpret the event. Zhuh?! The comments were full of agreement that art and fics that treat X story event legitimately (as in, presenting that character showing no remorse, which they canonically didn't according to my personal watch) are annoying, gross, shouldn't be in the fandom, etc.

I genuinely wish I could ask someone who dislikes the story event (and is safe to talk to) for more info on their view that this character was only cruel during this event to protect someone... I do think it would be really cool to hear a polite perspective about their interpretation, which so greatly differs from my interpretation of X that I struggle to wrap my head around it, but… after seeing many reblogs and hate, I think I'll keep my head down. The event happened in canon, but even if it had been a fanmade concept that got popular, it'd be pretty hurtful to see so much bashing circulating.

They have the right to that opinion, but I wish it was kept in a community or a discord server of like-minded people rather than circulating, just because there were some pretty harsh things said.

I'd love to reach out more and make friends in this community, but I'm still new here and already feel very once bitten and twice shy. I've had a few harsh messages in my inbox from people saying they hate my interpretations and dread the fandom content I create (even when it's properly tagged and kept out of main tags in some cases), and... it just comes full circle I guess.

Even though my art may not be palpable to some folks, I'm okay with that. Sometimes fandom's just like that when you go against the grain. Still, it's certainly Something tm to see so much hate for a canon event (and bashing towards artists, analysists, and writers who take that event at face value) when it's one of my favorite plot points due to how much character depth and complexity it adds.

Every fandom has its fights and ship wars and hated tropes, sadly. There are story events that are not to some people's tastes and that's okay. I just wish the idea of squicks would resurface rather than so many things being seen as morally reprehensible, as I think it really stifles the ability to connect with people and experience the beauty and variety you get through having many points of view.

I guess at its core, it hurts because my dream is to listen to someone gush to me about something they're passionate about even if I don't personally know much or really like that thing, and it makes me sad that I saw such a surge of people thanking OP for their post and how they also agree that X interpretations are unwanted in the fandom in general. It's one of those things that make you wonder how many of the friends you do have would dump you if they find out you like X (which was not dead dove in my mind, but a plot point that depicted a character making cruel choices). I suppose that's how you weed out fake friends, but it's a doozy.

I'll do my part to make my corner of the fandom fun for me, even if I make unpopular content, as it holds value to me even if many others dislike it. To close, I'd just like to say I hope others will think about the words they're using, what group of people they hurt by their word choice, the fact that content is generally shared for free and you can turn away and filter if it's not for you, and I hope we'll have a warmer community someday <3

Apologies for the long post, and thanks. Seeing so much venom towards the imperfect characters I'm passionate about really caught me off guard and I needed to put it into words so I can sleep.

Wishing you and anyone who creates content that goes against the grain well, and I hope art lovers and fic lovers and analysis lovers who would love your content will someday find you!

.

[oldcyberpunk2077truth]

Honestly? I'm tired of the «look at me» contest fandoms have become.

I'm a fic writer. And we NEVER ever have a spotlight. No shit, fic writing has always been a bad way of getting attention, but it's never been THAT bad.

The only one CP77 writing discord server I knew was buried under the VP, just like any other. While people like me sit in the corners typing, VPers compete who gets more notes and everyone discuss it like it's the most important thing in the world, even here. The main tag? You guessed it right — there is only VP.

You know, I am straight up upset. Not saying nobody is interested in lore anymore, but there is surely a difference between those days when we were nerds and nowadays when everything serves the purpose of getting likes.

I’ll be honest and say I don’t think deep about my character’s lore but I do know some folks who love to talk about and create stuff.

[cherryhanji]

drabble. jeongin x female reader

synopsis: jeongin has always been the curious one, even the smallest things that you never knew about piqued his curiosity. but what if his curiosity lead into something he never expected?

genre: fluff fluff fluff, friends to lovers au, high school au (but they're like seniors already lmao)

words: 1.6k

warnings: none

alexa's note: i suck at writing kissing scenes yet here i am, but i guess i can make this one an exception, i did try my best, wanna improve too in writing this kind of scenes aaaa tho nothing is suggestive its just lovey dovey as what i always write urjfjek

this isn't proofread, so forgive me if there are any typos and such but i hope u enjoy it folks!❤

Movie nights are the best way to deal with stress due to tons of activities.

And that's what you were doing right now. Calling your best friend to watch this new romcom movie you just discovered a while back while you were studying, or what you can call as "studying but purposely distracting yourself by doing something else besides studying".

Jeongin was just a few houses away from yours and being that one friend who always chose to hang out at his friends' house, your mother didn't mind him suddenly walking inside your home and casually greeting him as if he was her son. 

You were both lying comfortably on your bed as you watched and giggled occasionally at every scene that was funny. The movie was nice, it is cute and funny, just how you pictured it based on the description and reviews.

However, it seems like your best friend was becoming more interesting than the said movie. Clad in his comfortable sweats and plain white shirt, you can't help but to stare at him in awe. 

Is it normal to get starstrucked sometimes by your best friend?

Or were you just thinking of something else? 

"Enjoying the movie that much? Or am I more interesting than the movie?" Jeongin suddenly said, making your cheeks flush with heat, slapping his arm lightly at his banter, making him laugh.

"No, you're just ugly, I can't help but to look at it." You remarked.

"You just admitted I'm more interesting than the movie." He said smugly, you just rolled your eyes and back to the movie you were watching.

It was almost at the end when an unexpected scene unfolds. 

Well, what do you expect from a romance comedy movie?

The main characters shared a sweet kiss after confessing their love for each other. And that made Jeongin's curiosity sparked to life for the nth time.

He has always been curious about kissing someone, or getting kissed by someone. He wanted to feel those feelings everyone always described whenever they kiss someone.

He badly wanted to experience it, but not just with somebody else, he wanted to feel those genuine emotions. But he was not sure if it would even happen.

You watched a lot of movies together with these kinds of scenes, but this time you feel like there's something with the silence that envelops your best friend.

Did he feel awkward about it?

Did he like the scene?

You have no idea.

"Have you ever kissed someone?" Jeongin's question seems to shake your sanity. The question wasn't weird, but him asking you this question was the weird one, plus he even sound and look so serious right now.

Were you supposed to answer his question?

"Uuh...  I never had my kiss. How about you?" You didn't know why, but the question just popped into your mind.

He then shook his head and looked at you, you can clearly see the curiosity in his eyes. You never knew about Jeongin's relationships as far as you remember. You were his best friend yet you never meddle with his love interests, as it will just hurt your guts knowing none of them includes you.

"I never had one, either. Have you ever been curious about it?" He asked next. This conversation feels like it will be pushed through, and you don't have any problems with it. After all, you had these kinds of conversations with some of your friends.

"Yeah, at some point, because I heard some of my girl friends shared their experience with their first kiss." You chuckled and continued.

"Sounds like peer pressure but yeah, sometimes I wonder how that feels." You said, feeling your cheeks getting warmer.

The talk about these things was inevitable, but having this with Jeongin was quite unexpected. 

And maybe because of the conversation he was having with you, Jeongin can't help but to look at your lips at the moment. Those plush ones, it makes his mind go haywire, he can't even keep his emotions at bay.

How does it feel to kiss those lips?

He was too drunk with the thought he didn't notice he was slowly voicing it out.

"Do you want to try it?" Maybe Jeongin's plan today was to make you flustered all the way.

You were silent after the bomb he just threw. Why? Is he on something? If yes, then why does he need to play with your feelings like that?

Yes, a part of you wanted to try, because who wouldn't want to be kissed by him?

But, part of you says no. Friends don't kiss friends just because they like it, or want to try it. Given that the both of you never had experience with it.

The fact that you have those lingering feelings for him just added salt to the wound, what will you get after kissing Jeongin, the friend you obviously have feelings for? 

Your friend just wanted to kiss you because he's curious, not because he likes you.

So, it will only break your heart.

"Sorry..! I shouldn't have said that. I… I made you uncomfortable right?" Jeongin immediately took back what he said when he realized you were silent.

Jeongin was too enthralled with the thoughts of you kissing him, he didn't realize he made you uncomfortable.

What a good way to make you think he's really becoming weird.

"It's okay, and you didn't make me uncomfortable." You replied shortly. You know that this conversation is slowly becoming weary. The look in Jeongin's eyes clearly doesn't believe what you've said.

"Sorry for asking that kind of question. I must be crazy." Jeongin said, chuckling awkwardly. You bit your lip as you felt the awkwardness finally envelop the two of you.

"Let's try it." You blurted out. Jeongin clearly was flabbergasted as he looked at you straight. 

Maybe you were just being impulsive, or because the feeling of wanting to kiss him was overpowering your mind, you never thought of the consequences.

And, is it that bad to have a little fun? Maybe after this, you can pretend like nothing happened and stay normal, like the two of you were before this fiasco even started.

"Are you… sure? You know, you don't have to force yourself, I was jus-" He didn't continue what he wanted to say when you finally planted your lips on his soft ones.

It was…

Euphoric.

You even think it was an understatement. You just felt like it's so right, it rendered your mind blank.

Before you even get too engrossed by it, you pull yourself out from the kiss, a wide eyed Jeongin at your front. The look made you chuckle, but you suppressed it.

"I wanted to, you don't have to feel guilty by asking, and we can always just pretend none of this happened. This secret is safe." You said and raised your pinky finger, a smile on your face. You know you were being harsh on yourself, kissing him because you wanted to, because you like him. While he wanted to kiss you just because he wants to know how it feels.

It's good while it lasted.

What you didn't expect was, Jeongin initiating the kiss this time. Both of his hands on your flushed cheeks, his eyes closed.

The feeling was there again, as if you were floating, your heart was getting wilder it almost came out of your chest, but you tried to relax. Not wanting to look stiff.

You can feel Jeongin getting relaxed as well, as if he became more confident with this one. He felt like his curiosity was finally being answered, and he wanted to feel it again.

He can't help but to smile against your lips. Out of giddy, he thought. He finally had the chance to do this. The genuineness he's looking for was there, and he never felt so ecstatic about it.

Not wanting to make it longer, even if both of you clearly wanted it, Jeongin finally let go of the kiss. His hands are still on your cheeks, and you didn't mind it, to say the least.

You didn't try to open your eyes, because of embarrassment, thinking that Jeongin had noticed that you were obviously liking it.

You hoped not.

"Sucks to say that I look stupid on my first kiss. So maybe I can still redo it, like the way I wanted." He muttered, his cheeks also flushed.

"Just so you know, I really wanted to try this, but… I never told anyone that I wanted to do it with you. So I'm glad to know you wanted to try it too, even if it's because you're just curious." Jeongin admitted, scratching the back of his neck. 

You can't help but to flash a wide grin on your face. You're not sure if he meant something by that, but the fact that he wanted to do this with you, had you jumping your heart out of your chest.

But not wanting to be a killjoy to your own happiness, you just wanted to make sure what he meant with what he had said.

"Does that mean something? Or you just…" you asked, not wanting to make a fool out of yourself.

Jeongin knew what you were going to say. He doesn't want to make assumptions, but he just knows your body language too much.

You wanted to hear something from him.

So he smiled and held your hand lovingly, feeling it cold against his.

"If I kiss you again, that just means one thing."

"I like you."

[sweetjekyll]

Barbecue sauce on my..? oh — PCY

pairing: Park Chanyeol x Reader

genre: one-shot, established relationship, fluff, smut, baby fever (I guess??), some light crack I guess cause I made everyone too happy to spend time together, non-idol rating: 18+. IF you are not of legal adult age, please do not under any circumstances read this work as it is not meant for underage readers. chapter warnings: shameless consensual SMUT, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!!), impregnation. Honestly, it’s just some sneaky smut (Please read carefully the warning tags in the masterlist and those at the beginning of each new chapter to avoid any unpleasant misunderstandings.) word count: 3.6k

↳ Main Masterlist

A/N: high five if you recognize the title from that vine. this was s little “game” I let you guys play by voting members who you wanted to read a smut of! I didn’t really edit it and I might’ve missed some things here and there from lack of attention (feel free to point them out so I can edit and fix them, but please be nice about it!!). Thank you for encouraging me to write when I was going through a tough time, it means a lot to me. Also, rembember how I said this was going to be really short? lol I went over 3k words and added characters, some plot for shits and giggles. don’t pay too much attention to the pics in the collage, I just couldn’t find any neutral sundress pictures that spiked my interest

PS: let me know if you’d like for me to write a piece connected to this with another member, I was thinking about Minseok, since a gave all members a girlfriend, but I kept them all nameless for Reader immersion purposes. Otherwise I can write for other members but unrelated to this plot :) 

⟶ To my dear readers: feedback is highly encouraged and important! as it gives me motivation to write with more passion, knowing that you like what you are reading. Please LIKE and REBLOG so more people can find this and read it. ❤ My askbox is always open for questions or to chat ❤

Enjoy! ❤

On the last days of spring, when the weather gets unbearably hot all of a sudden, the only option is to gather around with friends and family and have a cold drink. Shed the heavy cold weather clothes and enjoy some sunbathing in the backyard! At least, that’s what Chanyeol told you repeatedly during the week; he’d been so excited to meet up with all your friends and eat delicious grilled food that he wouldn’t shut up about it throughout the week.

The more he spoke about the activities you would enjoy on the weekend, the more you grew excited and looked forward to it. You couldn’t wait to wear a summer dress and forget about your duties in the office for a day or two, finally catch up with both yours and Chanyeol’s friends and play with Jongdae’s little princess. You and the girls would often joke around about who would be the next couple to have a kid, the guys would just laugh and say it would most likely be Jongdae and his wife, again.

Chanyeol had a big smile plastered on his handsome face as soon as you pulled in the driveway to Minseok’s house, he hadn’t even set foot outside of the car yet he claimed that he could smell the burnt scent of charcoal coming from the back garden. “Trust me, I can smell it.” It was about an hour before noon when you arrived, as you got up early in the morning to get the best deals at the store, had some quick breakfast and got on the road.

“Yes, baby, I’m sure you do.” You laughed as you unbuckled your seatbelt and picked up your purse. “Help me get the bags from the trunk, will you?” You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek and got out of the car, being immediately greeted by Sehun and his girlfriend, as they pulled up in the driveway too, right behind your car. You were quick to forget the bags with the groceries and squealed out of happiness as soon as you saw your friend, whom you haven’t seen in a while. Her arms brought you in for a tight hug.

“Babe, what happened to us helping each other carry the groceries?” Chanyeol shook his head but he too had a bright smile on his face. He returned the bags with the extra food and drinks for the barbecue inside the trunk to quickly greet Sehun. “Tell me you got a good cut of beef ribs, we only found pork chops at our grocery store.”

Sehun carried a couple of plastic bags from his car and showed them to the older male. “Dude, I had to fight an elderly lady for these. Kyungsoo needs to pull a five-star Michelin on them.” You all laughed at his words, finally picking up everything that you needed to and carried it inside the house.

Inside, the atmosphere was just as lively as you had expected it to be on a Saturday morning. Everyone was already assigned to their duties, from preparing food and mixing ingredients for dipping sauces according to everyone’s preferences, to happily chitchatting and catching up on their daily lives. Gathering together in one place was a difficult challenge, considering some people had hectic work schedules, but not impossible.

It wasn’t long before you and Chanyeol got separated and fell into rhythm with the tasks you needed to help with. Your boyfriend, being the guy with the most handiness skill out of all his friends, took it upon himself to assemble the metal picnic tables in the garden, grumbling how they could’ve called him earlier, instead of messing around with the bolts and screwdrivers.

Kyungsoo was in the backyard too, doing his best at the grill as usual, with his girlfriend and Jongdae assisting him. Not that the other guys or girls couldn’t cook, but the truth was that no one else could give food the flavors only Kyungsoo could. In the kitchen, on the other hand, you helped wrap up and store away all the food that you thought you wouldn’t need for lunch, yet it would still be ready to go on the grill in case people wanted more. You and the girls weren’t really sure, but considering the amount of food your men could stuff in their mouths, each of the couples bought extra things. Minseok’s fridge and freezer could barely hold anything anymore!

“Don’t worry about it!” His fiancée told you cheerfully as she helped you close the overstuffed drawers. “We’ve already agreed on cooking everything and then packing the leftovers for all of you to take home.”

Lunch was going smoothly under the gazebo in the backyard, filled with friendly banter and anecdotes; the food was amazing, the addition of grilled vegetables, some fish side dishes and various dipping sauces helped balance the amount of meat that filled the tables. A few people risked choking on their bites because of Baekhyun’s antics, unable to contain their laughter as he went back and forth with Chanyeol about some stupid challenge… To which Jongin kept mischievously adding fuel to the fire, while his girlfriend was too busy helping you feed Jongdae’s daughter and keep her entertained. You could only imagine how much him and his lovely spouse needed a small break from being parents and just enjoy their time together, while still being one arm length from you across the table.

Time flew by so fast until you reached the late hours of the afternoon. Surprisingly, not many people were exhausted from hours of fooling around and catching up. The charcoal in the grill was lit up once more, but this time Yixing, Junmyeon, Chanyeol and Jongdae were on cooking duty. Kyungsoo, Baekhyun and Sehun had to go sleep off some of the soju they had in the afternoon on the sofa in the living room.

You had yet to digest lunch and were honestly feeling pretty stuffed, but playing with the one-year-old Princess made you feel a bit worn out and not very hungry. Jongin helped you keep her entertained even when she didn’t want to take a much needed nap, she was just too full of energy for a tiny human. Her parents and the others tried to attract her attention away from you and Jongin, yet she just wasn’t having any of it, you two were her most favorite people to play with.

Chanyeol smiled absentmindedly at the sight of you carrying around the toddler, it got cool enough for you to be able to play on the grass with most of her toys scattered on a picnic, checkered blanket. His eyes moved back and forth from his hands expertly turning the meat on the grill to you making funny faces to the child. He knew you guys were always joking around about who would have a child next among your group of friends, but what if… it were the two of you? Kids loved you and enjoyed your bright personality, you were always so easy to talk to — okay, maybe babble in this case — and ready to play whenever the kids wanted. Chanyeol loved kids too, he just didn’t pause to think about having children of your own, on a more serious thought.

“She has so much energy and patience with children. Our Princess can be a little overwhelming sometimes.” Jongdae drew Chanyeol’s attention by commenting on his friend’s girlfriend, still appreciating the fact that she kept his child busy all afternoon so he and his wife could enjoy a rather peaceful barbecue with their friends. “So when are you going to have one of your own?”

“Jongdae!” His wife called out behind him as she came to collect a hot plate with more food. “You can’t just when Chanyeol and Y/N are going to have a child just because you bet on it.”

“You did what?” Yixing laughed out loud, covering his mouth while he munched on some charred piece of pork belly.

“He and Baekhyun bet on it this afternoon while drinking,” Junmyeon added to the conversation while he plated the food that was done grilling. He found it amusing to watch Chanyeol’s ears turn red from the teasing.

“They will have kids when they want, right? When that happens we’ll be all ready to celebrate.” The woman added, grinning at Chanyeol and then left with the food that Junmyeon had just plated, Jongdae behind her trail with two more plates.

A warm feeling started bubbling in his chest, his eyes went back to search for you, sat at the table with the toddler in your lap and still holding onto you strong and giggly. You were so freaking cute, he always made sure to tell you that, but right now he wondered what it would be like if the child you were holding were his and yours. A mini version of yourselves. Adorable, that would be so adorable.

With a newfound purpose, Chanyeol wanted to walk right up to you and ask if you wanted to have a child together… maybe not in front of everybody, but he just needed to find a way to get you alone for a couple of minutes. If Jongdae and Baekhyun bet he would be the next to have child, then he’d make sure of it. Totally not because he got riled up by a nonexistent challenge…

You started to feel a bit constricted in your summer dress, clinging to your body like a second skin from all the sweating, despite having been shielded from the sun most of the afternoon, it was still pretty hot. The only time you got to feel something cool on your skin was when you and a few other girls decided to set up a kiddie pool for the toddler, except at some point the more mischievous and playful of the bunch decided to splash water on you with the garden hose, instead of filling the inflatable pool. Needless to mention you didn’t bring a change of clothes, but it dried off eventually.

Sat back at the table for dinner, you held the little princess in your arms while enjoying an improvised karaoke show by Baekhyun — now awake — and Jongdae. Apparently Minseok still had those wireless, bluetooth microphones Baekhyun gifted him and his fiancée last Christmas. He figured they would have fun singing around the house by themselves, but it turned out that they could use them now for more entertainment.

The toddler in your lap made grabbing hands towards her father, seeing as he was singing and swaying around with a shiny toy, which emits sounds in his hands. He came close and picked her up, placing her on his hip, then continued his show, occasionally handing the tip of the mic to his daughter’s lips.

“Baby?” You hummed in response to Chanyeol’s voice, but not really paying attention to him since you didn’t want to miss the show. You felt his hand sneak its way onto your knee, but his eyes were too busy looking at your chest. “You have barbecue sauce on your tiddies.”

“Barbecue sauce on my..? oh—!” The subtle yet sensual way he whispered those words in your ear, including the choice of words, made heat rise to your cheeks as you looked down at your chest. There was a big streak of a deep red stain on your sundress, looking quite fresh with some drops on your skin too, just a little above the collar. You remembered the Princess  waving around her favorite spoon earlier and at some point she managed to dip it into your own plate, you assumed. “I don’t have a change of clothes,” you whined softly by turning to look at your boyfriend with a pout.

He swiftly stole a kiss from your pouting lips and motioned with his head towards the house, speaking loud enough so you could hear him above the musical happening in the backyard. “Do you want to go inside and help me try to clean the stain?” You saw a glint in his eyes but didn’t think too much of it, at which you just nodded. Chanyeol, ever the loudest after Baekhyun, asked Minseok’s fiancée above the music which bathroom could you use to clean the stain and she replied to head for the one upstairs, since the sink downstairs was clogged.

Chanyeol held your hand and guided you inside and throughout the house with urgency, as if the stain needed to be taken care of immediately before it dried off. Although, you already knew it was unlikely going to come off with just some tap water. You furrowed your brow in suspicion but said nothing, until you found yourself on the upper floor of the house, bathroom door locked behind you.

“Alright, what’s gotten into—“ you didn’t get to finish the sentence as your words got cut off by Chanyeol’s lips pressing against yours sloppily, yet ardent. You felt his body guide you backwards until your bum hit the sturdy, cool surface of the sink.

“Let’s make a baby,” Chanyeol panted as your lips parted, your eyes widened in disbelief, pupils frantically searching his for any sign of him joking, but you knew his serious and determined expression too well. He was sincere about wanting a child.

“Right now?!” He looked up and to the side, thinking, then nodded vigorously. Sure, you talked about it before briefly, both of you would love to have a little bundle of joy someday, but was now the right timing for it? You would never know unless you try, right? “But we’re at our friend’s house…”

“And has that ever stopped us before?” Chanyeol insisted, peppering your face with wet kisses. You rolled your eyes and shrugged while thinking about how many times you sneaked around during a party at your friends’ places. Minseok would kill you if he found out you were desecrating his en-suite sink like this.

Chanyeol’s lips were back on yours as soon as you gave him the go, fingers digging into your hips while you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. Thankfully, the countertop was clean of any bathroom products, otherwise you would’ve knocked them over and made a mess as soon as your boyfriend slipped his warm hands behind your thighs, to then lift you up on the hard surface. You gladly spread your legs for him and let him press his clothed crotch to yours, feeling an already growing bulge rub against you in a desperate manner to gain some friction.

You knew you were playing with time; you needed to be quick and stay quiet, which would not be an easy task considering how riled up Chanyeol could get you. There was no time to waste, you reminded yourself again, as your mind became foggy with desire for the love of your life. His kisses were all over the place, dancing from your lips, to your jaw and then to that sensitive spot on your neck. Heavy panting against your ear, while he managed to slip the large palms of his hands under the skirt of your dress and hike it up your hips. You bit down on your tongue the moment you felt his digits press your clit through the damp fabric of your panties. It was so hard to focus on not moaning, while you could hear the commotion from the backyard still going on, yet the songs had changed, including who was singing.

“Oh, Park Chanyeol,” you moaned out of breath, lust clouding your vision as you pulled back to look at him from under your lashes. “You chose the worst timing to be this horny.”

“What do you mean?” He scoffed with a wide grin on his handsome features, meanwhile his hands left your body for a brief moment to undo the belt and zipper on his shorts, swiftly pushing them down with his boxers. “I’m always horny when you walk around looking so gorgeous all the time.”

You didn’t have enough time to marvel at how hard he was because his words made you giggle, unable to contain the excitement you were feeling. It had been a while since you two had sneaked around, you never knew if anyone was going to come looking for you. You too made quick work on getting rid of your panties with his help, then allowed him to drag you closer to the edge of the sink, his arms snaked under your spread thighs and he held onto your hips to keep you in place. You wrapped your legs behind his back, then spit on your fingers and spread the saliva on the tip of his cock, earning a deep groan from his pretty swollen lips, lastly guided him to your entrance until he was pushing inside slowly.

A sharp gasp escaped your throat, eyes closed and head thrown back, you held one arm securely around his wide shoulders and one securely on the sink, to keep yourself steady as you arched your back for him. He felt so warm inside of you, keeping still for a mere moment more before he started thrusting slowly, lips immediately latching onto yours to keep you quiet. Any faster than the torturously slow pace he had set, and you would’ve already been moaning out loud enough for someone to hear you.

He pressed his forehead to yours, glossy eyes looking at each other as he thrust into you. You could feel the muscles in his arms flex, restraining himself from picking up pace and just ramming into you. “Please, faster…” A soft whine reached his ears. How could he deny you such pleasure when you were asking so desperately.

“Are you going to be a good girl and stay quiet?” He asked in the same whispering tone. You didn’t trust your words so you just nodded vigorously, a crease forming between your eyebrows. Chanyeol picked up pace and watched intently as you bit down on your lip to keep quiet, yet your lips would part of their own free will, allowing short whines to roll off your tongue.

One of his arms let go of your hip and he removed it from under your thigh, bringing his fingers to your mouth, until you gladly wrapped your lips around two fingers, licking and sucking to help you stay as silent as you possibly could in this current situation. As deafened as your ears felt from blood quickening its pace in your veins, you strained them to listen to your friends inside and outside the house. There were still people singing and laughing, some muffled voices, yet loud enough for you to hear them coming from downstairs.

It wasn’t the most romantic setting to make love to for a possible child, but the loving way Chanyeol was looking at you was enough to help the fire in the pit of your belly start erupting. He could feel it too, the clenching of your walls around his length. Such a blissful feeling that would send him over the edge soon. Your toes curled and your head lulled back, releasing Chanyeol’s fingers from your mouth as you reached down to rub yourself, heavily panting when a few swirls of your digits on your clit were enough to make you cum.

Chanyeol watched you reach your high, smiling at your blissful expression, a long guttural whine reaching his ears while he helped you ride your orgasm. The clenching of your walls around him was so painfully sweet that in a couple more sloppy thrusts, he came too inside of you. Sputtering, warm seed painted your walls, tickling them to clench again, which earned a low grunt from your boyfriend. He stood still inside of you, relaxing his body into your embrace with his forehead resting on your shoulder.

A loud knock on the bathroom door made both of your gasp in shock, panicked eyes facing the same direction. “Did the stain come off?” Minseok asked from behind the door. “I have some laundry stain remover if Y/N wants to try it.”

You quickly covered your mouth to prevent yourself from bursting out laughing, Chanyeol’s dick was pretty much still buried deep inside of you, but you could feel it getting softer. He took a deep breath to recompose himself and replied to his friend. “Ugh, no need, we’ll just wash it back home since the barbecue sauce isn’t coming off.”

“Yeah, that’s what laundry stain remover is for, you dumbass.” Minseok countered, and now you allowed yourself to laugh out loud.

“Thank you, Minseok, I’ll give it a try.” You told him, your voice was surprisingly steadier than you would’ve thought. He left the product by the door and left afterwards without any further questions. “Do you think he knows?” You murmured, unsure if he was really gone.

“One way to find out.” Chanyeol slipped out of you at last and your jaw dropped immediately with a soft gasp after he left you empty, still wishing you had gotten more, yet you could feel his seed seeping out of your entrance and coating your folds. “You look so beautiful.” Gently hands cupped your cheeks and pressed an almost chaste kiss to your lips. He breathed in your scent and looked deeply into your eyes. “You’re going to be a wonderful mother.”

You heart warmed up in your chest and it quicker up its pace once more. “And you’re going to be a wonderful father.”

tags: @cxsmicmyeon @vivaoh @byuns-coco @yeol-jae @his-mochi-cheeks @baekhyunvillage4​ @yeoltinybaek​ @saintloey​ @delightpcy​ @skyys-universe​ (let me know if you wish to be untagged! I added all the people who either replied or liked the original post about writing this smut, or just some people who I thought would appreciate reading it.)

[missymurphy1985]

The Lesson

After breaking up with your long-term boyfriend, you finally found the courage to enrol at university, studying Modern Theatre. Your life now taking an unexpected detour to its original plan of marriage, babies, settling down. This is going to be an interesting year.

Tag List (message me to be added): @queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0 @cloudofdisney

Warnings - smut / teacher.student relationship

Main Characters - Cillian Murphy (he's 35 and single for the purpose of this fic, no children)

"Hey!!! Over here!!" You heard Sarah, your best friend, shouting from the other side of the hall and made your way over.

"Thank god, I was starting to think I'd gone to the wrong place! This place is huge!!" You laughed as you hugged each other. Your bag slung over your shoulder, you linked arms with Sarah with your other arm as you made your way down to the Lecture Theatre.

"So how are you feeling?" Sarah asked.

"Nervous! I never, in a million years, thought I'd be doing this! I feel so old!" You laughed. At 26, you were easily the oldest student here, but Sarah laughed your worries away.

"Trust me, you're not. Once they revealed who the teacher was going to be this semester, a fair few extra people signed up to do that course y/n!" You looked at her confused.

"What, Mr Allen?? He's about 75 isn't he?" Sarah laughed again and left you at the door to your classroom, making her way to her own Design Studio at the bottom of the corridor to teach her own class.

"You'll see when you get inside!" She called behind her, smiling.

You took your seats near the front of the room, looking behind you you could see a gaggle of ladies in the back corner, all of them easily over the age of 40 with no clear interest at all in the subject at hand. They were all giggling like children.. this was going to be fun, you thought, rolling your eyes. Turning back round, you caught a glimpse of a dark haired man making his way through the door at the back of the room. As he made his way to the desk in the centre of the stage area in front of the students, you couldn't help but gasp a little. Jesus he was cute....

The ladies at the back squealed in delight and the man rolled his eyes.

"Right then, let's make a few things clear from the off shall we folks?" He spoke, his Irish accent booming through the auditorium. Everyone fell silent.

"I have a passion for the arts - I've been involved with them since I was 19. I'm here to teach you all I've learned over the last 16years and I plan on teaching it to like minded, dedicated people. People who want to make a career out of the beauty that is theatre. Those of you here simply to catch a glimpse of anything OTHER than a teacher doing his job, the doors at the back of the room." He stood still, leaning against the desk. The gasp at the back of the room was so loud, you couldn't help but giggle a little. Busted ladies. They all whispered to each other, a few of them glaring in the man's direction as they made their way to the back of the room. Slowly but surely, a few others also left sheepishly, men included, and you couldn't help but notice the man smiling a little underneath his floppy brown hair and round glasses. Who was this man??

"Now that's taken care of, I'm hoping I'm left with students that are here to learn the theatre and nothing else..." He paused, looking round the room. His eyes met yours and he paused for a second, raising his eyebrow slightly. You were now the oldest in the room, and you felt even more out of place. You kept a straight face, and maintained the eye contact with him. He wasn't bullying YOU out of here, you didn't care who he THOUGHT he was.

"Right... Well we'd better get going then!" His demeanour changed, he smiled broadly clapping his hands together. "My name's Cillian Murphy - please for the love of God call me Cillian... Mr Murphy is my Dad and I'm not quite ready for that level of old yet." A few chuckles in the room - that tension was gone. "This isn't the first time I've done a class like this, and I've had to evict people part way through for.. ah.. shall we say inappropriate behaviour. Wanted to nip that in the bud from the offset, so I apologise to you all now for the way the class started. Now, do you all have the textbooks the school sent out last month? Let's start on page 35 shall we?" The class, including you, opened the books in unison to find the chapter on Lighting and Sound. Cillian glanced back over at you, a look of uncertainty on his face. You could feel him staring, but refused to look up at him.

"So how are your classes going y/n?" Your mum walked into your apartment to find you studying, book one side, laptop the other and you making notes in the middle of your desk in the corner of the room. You'd given her a key a month prior so she could let your dog, Juno, out during the day while you were at uni.

"It's hard work! I had no idea there was so much to learn about the theatre, they make it look so easy!!"

Your mum laughed and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for you both. Kicking back, you allowed yourself a break after 3 hours studying and met your mum at the small breakfast bar.

"I hear you have a new teacher too? Cillian Murphy?"

"Yeah, he's amazing! He's been there and done it all mum, the stories he tells are fascinating!"

"You know who he is, right?" You did know. You'd googled him when you got home after that first lesson. Pretty big hot shot actor, but you weren't bothered. He seemed pretty down to earth and normal to you.

"Yep I know - you'd never think it though, he's so... Normal I guess?"

"Cute too."

"Mother! Behave!" You both giggled. You couldn't deny he was very attractive though - but you could tell he was a professional. No way had he even looked at you that way - in fact you were convinced he thought you were there purely for him, rather than the course, so you were even more determined to pass this semester with flying colours to prove a point.

The following weeks were filled with more information than you could get your head around. You hated to admit it, but you were struggling to keep up. You hated admitting defeat, but you were really starting to wonder if you could carry on at this pace. Your work was starting to slip, and Cillian had noticed it too, much to your dismay. He'd called a 1-2-1 with you this afternoon, and you were convinced he was going to pull you from the course. You knocked on the door of his office, the defeat written all over your face.

"Come in y/n.."

"Hi.." you tried to smile as you sat across from him. He had your latest piece of coursework in front of him on the desk and he was leaning back in the chair, eyeing you through the rims of his round glasses. Standing up, he made his was over to the drinks cabinet in the corner of the room and pulled out a bottle of Irish Whiskey. You watched him, silently, as he put two glasses on the desk.

"Shouldn't be drinking this during the day, but felt the need. Want one?" You smiled, nodding your head.

"Conversation is clearly not going to be a fun one, no?"

"What makes you say that? I'm just lightening the mood y/n, you walked in here looking like you were going to either cry or knock me out!" He laughed, and offered you the glass. You took it, and sat it in your hands. Your fingers connected and you forced down a gasp at the contact. You'd refused to show him any kind of attraction but it was difficult while he was sat so close to you.

"Listen, I know I'm falling behind Cillian, I'll make it up I promise -"

"Stop. It's okay. Yes, your marks are dropping slightly, but not by much, okay? I'm seeing real potential in you. I invited you here to talk to you about some extra classes to help bump you back to where you need to be. What do you say?" He took a sip of the whiskey and so did you. Relief washing through you as the warm liquid fell down your throat. Hopefully it hid the blush in your cheeks.

"Um.. wow... Okay.. yeah! That'd be great, thank you!" He smiled again. God that smile... Stop it y/n.. he's your teacher, stop.. he sat back down at his desk and handed you a book.

"Great! I've put my phone number on the inside cover. Have a read of this, and call me when you're done. I think you'll like it." You took the book and smiled. A history of Modern Theatre. You agreed, definitely an interesting read.

"Is it classed as 'appropriate' for a teacher to give a student his phone number, Cillian?" You smirked, referring to his opening outburst on that first day. He chuckled.

"Maybe not, but I'm not a teacher, I'm an actor helping out the local university for a semester while the actual teacher takes a leave of absence." You'd heard Mr Allen had fallen ill, Cillian was just a temporary stand in for three months. Nothing permanent. "I have a new job starting in January, I'll be done here by Christmas." You couldn't help but feel a bit sad at the thought of him not being around anymore. Without admitting it, you'd looked forward to seeing him every day in class. He stood again, and raised his glass in a toast. You raised yours.

"What are we drinking to?"

"You. We're drinking to you y/n. I'm telling you, I'm seeing some real potential with you - you're going far, just need to focus more on the content, that's all." You blushed again.. was that the reason you were distracted? Him? Maybe. "Meet me back here tonight, around 4:30? Should be done with marking by then, we can make a start?" You agreed, a nervous knot forming in your stomach.

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

You'd been having your 1-2-1 meetings with Cillian for more than a month now, and your marks were certainly improving. You had finished the book he gave you, but you hadn't plucked up the courage to text him yet. Watching TV alone in your apartment one evening, you downed your third glass of wine and picked up your phone. He wouldn't have given you the number if he didn't expect you to use it, come on y/n...

"Hey Cillian? Just letting you know I finished the book. Really good read, thank you! I'll have it back with you in the morning. And thank you for spending time with me helping to improve my marks too, it's really helped. Y/n x" pressing send, you cursed yourself, why the hell did you put a X at the end!!! You cursed again when it was delivered... Then again when its status changed to 'read'... Oh crap... A reply.

"Glad you liked it! It's been a pleasure, you're doing a great job! Cx." He put one on his text too... Come on y/n, you're not a teenager anymore, get a grip of yourself!!! Your phone pinged again.

"Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow xx" 2 kisses? Ping.. "Maybe we can finish more than your coursework.x" What did that mean? Was he flirting with you?

"What did you have in mind? X"

"There's still half a bottle of whiskey in the cupboard, shame to let it go to waste X"

"I don't think you'd be able to keep up with me Cillian 😉" you typed, feeling a bit braver.

"Challenge accepted y/n. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon X" you knew his stint at the university was coming to a close, was he flirting with you?

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

You knocked Cillian's office door at 4:30 sharp, knowing how much of a stickler he was for punctuality. You felt nervous, after your texts last night you didn't know what to expect - was he flirting or were you just overthinking it? The door opened, and he stood aside to welcome you in, a smile on his face as he greeted you.

"Good to see you y/n, come on in!" He walked to the cabinet in the corner. "I never turn down a challenge, you in?" You smiled, nodding, as he poured two glasses.

"Good job I left the car at home this morning," you chuckled as he brought his glass to meet yours. Both of you sinking it down in one, you grimaced as the liquid slipped down your throat and he took the glass from you to pour another.

"We'll take this one a bit slower y/n, what do you say?" His eyes darkened slightly, the alcohol clearly having an effect. You couldn't help the warm feeling running through your groin as he licked his lips to clear them of the whiskey remnants that sat on them.

"Whatever you say sir.." he glanced up at you as you said 'sir', and leaned against the desk.

"Sir? Since when did you call me sir?" He tilted his head back slightly, glass swirling in his hand. You sipped your drink and stood to face him, confidence growing. You could see his attraction towards you, and you decided to go with it.

"Since you decided to try and seduce your student... Sir." He swallowed hard, the game clearly up, watching you take a step towards him. Your bodies inches apart, he brought his hand up to rest on your hip, pulling you that little bit closer.

"Probably shouldn't have put kisses on a text to your teacher, then, should you.."

"Probably shouldn't have given me your phone number then, should you.." the air was hot now, your bodies touching gently, your breathing becoming deeper. You brought your hands to his chest, over his shoulders, and he quickly spun you round so you were now sat on his desk. His lips found yours and he ground his hips against your core, your legs parted allowing him access, skirt hitched up to your waist.

"I've wanted you since that first day... Fuck y/n you're beautiful... Sexy... Smart..." He kissed your neck between each word, breathing becoming hot and heavy. Suddenly stopping, he kissed your lips before making his way to the door, turning the key in the lock, before coming back to finish what you started. Unbuttoning your blouse and opening it, his hand snaked around your breasts, underneath the black lace bra. Groaning slightly, he moved his hands lower, down your abdomen.

"Leave as much on as possible... I'm taking you on this desk, right now.. you okay with that?"

"Like I said sir, I don't know if you'll be able to keep up with me.." your leg pushed him away slightly as you stood up, pushing him against the wall. You sank to your knees, taking his trousers and boxer shorts down with them, his cock springing up, twitching, begging for attention. Gasping, he watched you lick a circle around the swollen head, down the shaft, before taking one of his balls into your mouth and sucking lightly. His hand in your hair now, pulling it gently as he groaned. You continued teasing him with your tongue, before taking the tip of his cock into your mouth, giving it a hard suck, releasing it with a pop, sending his head back against the wall.

"Fuck... Take it y/n.. take it down..." You smiled, before sinking your mouth over his cock, all the way down the back of your throat, groaning into it sending shockwaves through him.

"Lets see how much you can take..." You sucked harder, not giving him time to react. Moving your head quickly up and down his shaft, you felt your core begin to leak, you'd never felt as turned on in your life as you did right now. You felt his legs start to shake...

"Yes.. fuck yes... Feels so good baby... Suck it... Harder.. god fuck yes..." His balls tightened, you could feel him trying to pull back but you held him firm with your hands on his hips, willing him to empty into you. "I'm gonna... You might... Jesus.... Fuck...." He came hard, gripping your hair for support as he came hard, you felt his cum shoot in the back of your throat and swallowed as much as you could, some of it spilling down your chin. You pulled your mouth away, holding your mouth slightly open so he could see his cum on your tongue before swallowing it back down.

"That was... My god... Fuck y/n..."

"Oh you will sir, you definitely will. I'm not done with you yet.." you stood up and sat back on the desk, legs parted again to reveal your core to him, completely bare. He didn't see you remove your underwear while you were sucking him, but he wasn't complaining. Gathering himself, he moved to stand between your legs and pulled your lips to his, kissing you passionately, tasting a little of himself in the process and feeling surprisingly aroused from it. He moved his mouth down to your core, running his tongue along your open slot painfully slowly.

"Cillian... Please... Need to cum...."

"You will, baby, oh you will..." You moved your hands to his soft, floppy hair and pulled his face where you needed it. He loved you taking control and took your clit with his tongue, pressing it, rolling it around his tongue as he felt you begin to shake. You lifted a leg onto the desk to give him better access, and he inserted two fingers inside you, tipping them up to meet your g spot deep inside, emitting a sharp cry from you as you three your head back.

"Yes!!! Oh god yes... Right there... Fuck!!" Your hips were involuntarily rolling against his face now, riding his tongue as he brought you more pleasure than you thought was possible. Within minutes, your orgasm was building, and sensing it, he pumped his fingers harder against that one spot that was making you see stars. Three pumps and you came hard against his face, liquid flowing from you like a waterfall, hitting the floor underneath you as you screamed Cillians name. He leaned back on his ankles, watching you coming undone, smiling. Once you'd caught your breath, your eyes fell onto his his.

"Feeling proud of yourself there Mr Murphy?" You smiled. He stood between your thighs again.

"Extremely. But I'm not done with you yet. Turn around y/n." His blue eyes darker now. Your core throbbed, knowing what was coming. Standing up, turning round, you bent over his desk, his hands parting your legs. Taking a condom from his bag behind him, you heard the packet rip open and you rotated your hips, teasing him. He groaned deeply as he started to push his length into you, inch by inch.

"Ohh... Oh god..." You weren't ready for his size, you legs parting as much as possible. Inch by inch he pushed, allowing you to adjust, before bottoming out, his balls resting near your still throbbing clit.

"I'm gonna fuck you hard against this desk, y/n... You're gonna take every thrust like the good girl you are..." You bucked your hips up and he responded by pulling his cock nearly out, and thrusting back in powerfully enough to make you scream his name. Picking up the pace, he leaned over to grab your hair in his hand, giving it a sharp tug as he thrust into you from behind over and over, relentlessly.

"Harder... Cillian harder!!! Fucking... Oh god yes!!!" Loving the sound of your cries and the feel of your pussy contracting around his cock, he knew you were close to another orgasm.

"Rub yourself... Rub your clit baby, make yourself cum for me..." You reached a hand round to your core and found that bundle of nerves. Circling it hard, your orgasm built up again and you swore you saw stars.

"Good girl.... That's it baby... Let it go, I've got you... Let it go...." That was all you needed to hear. You came hard, and he couldn't hold back once he felt your walls contracting round him. "I'm... Oh y/n yes... Yes!" He stilled, you felt his cock pulsate, filling the condom. Both of you breathless, he fell forwards resting against your back.

He pulled out gently, pulling the condom off and disposing of it in the bin, he chuckled slightly.

"Remind me to empty the bin before we leave... I don't think the cleaner will expect to see that in there in the morning!" You laughed too, standing up to face him.

"That was incredible... Just amazing..." You rested your head against his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around your waist, kissing your hair gently.

"I enjoyed that too y/n.. and I'd really like to see you again, if you'll let me?"

"I'd like that..." You smiled. You'd convinced yourself if anything happened it would probably be a one time thing, I mean he was a famous actor, what would he want with you? You had no illusions going into this.

"My teaching finishes here in 2 weeks - what do you say I take you out for dinner when it's done?"

"Sounds like a plan Cillian. But am I supposed to stay away until then?"

"Definitely not, y/n, we've still got a few 1-2-1 sessions to squeeze in before I leave..." He leaned down to kiss you, pushing you back against the desk again. His erection pressing against your core again. "It would appear I'm able to keep up after all y/n..."

[drunkkenobi]

Hello all, I come bearing a quick spreadsheet update. It’d been awhile since I’d done one, so I thought I’d share the past couple months of Watcher’s content.

There’s not too much out of the ordinary here. AYS continues to only do well when it’s airing (if that makes sense) and the one-off videos have done very well too.

TMS’s opening numbers are a bit softer than for season 4, but obviously not bad, either. AYS’s opening numbers were also a bit softer than from the fall. I don’t know what that means, if anything. Pretty much every episode was sponsored, including two special episodes that were entirely promotional. I have zero idea how those work and what the expectations are for them. (Steven mentioned there were numbers that were promised for them to the companies...but not what those numbers are. Steven Lim plz tell me all your business secrets)

My favorite bit of insight I can gather from this season of AYS is that the Cats episode didn’t do as well because people were probably afraid a cat died in that story. And The Missing did well because it’s when Shane talked about wanting old men to kiss. The internet is sensitive about cats, and wants old gays to kiss, confirmed.

The main reason I wanted to make this post was for WILD SPECULATION TIME! This past Friday at Vidcon, Watcher gave us months for the premieres of both Ghost Files and Dish Granted. I have looked to my calendar to try and figure out the exact days and folks, it is confusing. (putting it behind a cut because it got long)

So, the current season of TMS will end on July 15. Dish Granted to set to start in “August”. There are two weeks left in July between them (and we don’t know what week of August for DG). My personal guess for what is going to slot in here is a 3 week pilot run. Watcher has talked about debuting one more pilot show this year that I believe Ryan was involved with (whether it’s his or he’s just helping a new creator, unclear). This would be a great place to slot that in.

That puts Dish Granted starting August 12. There are only 3 confirmed guests for this season, I believe, so I can imagine this season being shorter than Watcher’s usual 6. DG is a wonderful show, but I know it’s really hard on Steven and the crew, so a shorter season would make sense.

This could lead into Ghost Files premiering September 2nd. So that’s one theory. Another is that you slot in 2-3 weeks of one-off videos, maybe one after TMS, the possible new series, and/or DG and then you have GF premiering September 23 or 30.

Then there’s the Puppet History of it all. The teaser at VidCon says “Coming Soon”, which is not helpful at all. Shane and some of the other Watcher crew have posted a few cryptic instagram photos over the past week of what I assume is the set, so my guess is that it is filming right now. However, Shane especially is notorious for posting things not as they are being filmed, so I can’t say for certainty that the season has not already been completely shot. (My guess is that it is currently filming, but again, I have been lied to before Shane)

My issue with PH is I have no idea where it fits in. Waiting until after Ghost Files airs puts it at airing in possibly November, which is quite far off. If GF starts in mid-late September and runs for at least 6 episodes (another thing I’m not sure of, but they have filmed 3 for sure and asked for evidence from many more places), that has PH starting November 4 or 11. Now, maybe they’re filming so far ahead for editing and/or scheduling purposes. Ryan gets married at the end of July, so he’ll be busy for a few weeks around then, plus they’ll have to fit in traveling for GF, so maybe they are getting it out of the way early. 

Or perhaps, they’re going to air their most anticipated show and their most popular show at the same time. I have been dying waiting for Watcher to go back to two videos a week for some time. I get why they stopped, but I’d love to see them go back to it, at least for special occasions. 

If PH does premiere in November, that rounds out Watcher’s schedule for the rest of the year, save maybe a couple holiday episodes and/or more one-offs. Wild!

Anyway, sorry this got so long and speculative, but it has consumed my weird little brain since Friday, trying to figure things out. Why they gave us months and not exact days is a mystery to me. One that will probably remain...well, you know. Thanks as always for reading! 

[unilightwrites]

writeblrs intro - the show is starting

Hi there! I'm Helen, the mind behind Unilight Writes - a blog I wanted to get out to actually do something with my writing. I think I'll be treating this as a safe space to motivate me to get the things I imagine out of my head and onto paper. Or a screen I guess. Semantics. Now, the last time I used Tumblr was years back when I was very much an angsty teen - I feel kind of confused and out of place but I hope to find a curious community here! And maybe send bullshit asks my friends' way. But hush. ANYHOW, not to drone on any longer - I enjoy and plan to work on some things during my... uh... stay? Yeah, let's roll with stay.

I'd love to share ideas and concepts that rattle around my brain with you all! I'm always up for discussions and questions, maybe some practice in going Random Bullshit, Go!. I'm looking for inspiration, whether it be phrasing, art, other creative expression or simply reading through works of storytellers. Gods only know how exhaustive is creativity. Characters. Just, characters. Making them alive, making them lovable or deserving of hate, evoking emotion through the creation of their mind. WORLDBUILDING. Don't get me even started! drafting and coming up with scenarios and little details for the worlds inside our heads is simply one of the best things ever. The dreaded word - WIP. I intend to share or showcase bits and pieces of my work that are stuffed so deep inside my mental closets that it's even deeper than I was before coming out. Anyhow - ill be leaving it out for you lot, whether you want it or not. That's my hubris right there, the true purpose of Unilight Writes Some general things about me: - I've always wanted to write and bring forward the stories of my imagination - but I think that to be a common thing among us here. Why write if you have nothing to say, why write if you don't want to. I did some writing when I was younger but I gave it up to focus more on school work. Guess what! school is not in the picture for the time being so here I go, doing what I love once again! - I'm rekindling a lot of old flames here. I started reading for pleasure again (right now I'm going through Memoirs of Lady Isabella Trent, a great pick for anyone who enjoys dragons and women in science, but make it victorian!) and relearned how to entertain the imagination in my head. I'd die for a nice fantasy book but I'm not that big on sci-fi. Anything in fantasy -low, high, medium, medieval, modern, whatever. Unless we're talking SJM, I'm out the second there is harp music in my spicy scenes. - I'm pretty interested in random Wikipedia bullshit, researching nonsense topics, and drawing inspiration from folklore and cultures I have yet to fully experience. - Music-wise I'm bordering all subgenres of folk - indie, rock, alt. Anything is fair game, to be honest - I'm all for DnD. If you play it? Amazing. If you don't? Welcome to my table, young one, lets's go on an adventure. I love how expressive it is and the degree of creativity you can have around it. - I'm trying to learn cardistry. Honestly, I'm rather shit at it but I'm doing my best and it's absolutely exhilarating. Doing all those little card tricks and shuffles is a great way to actually let my mind wander and come back with solutions instead of panic. - I absolutely ADORE piercings and tattoos, they're the main part of my everyday aesthetic (plus, if you have a nice sketch of a duck in a burglar outfit that's stealing a pack of cigarettes, please please hit me up, I want that tattooed) - I use she/they pronouns and consider myself queer - putting a label has helped me a lot in the early parts of my self-actualization but now I'm just as confused as back then and I can't be bothered to do anything about it. Now, seeing as all three pre-play rings did their thing - lets have a seat and glance upon the absolute bastard of a child my brian came up with: "The Grand Circus" It's currently my one and only work in progress. It's very much still in the preliminary steps of development, but it's there! The novel will follow the life of Varadia - a person living in a world filled to the brim with magickal creatures taken from a fair share of different cultures and belief systems. Ever since being a wobbly child, she wanted to join the Grand Circus - a troupe of travelling artists that showcase all around the continent. And now after years of self-training, she will get the chance to audition. But as always, there are a lot of political intrigues and people being not quite who they seem to be. With a double layer to everything, she'll have to navigate a wide world she hasn't seen before, alone save for her newfound family - other performers

[some-dr-writings]

Kokichi, Ryoma, Kaito, and Kiibo get Reader’s motive video, revealing no one in the outside world cares about them

Kokichi Oma:

·       Well this was certainly an interesting turn of events, he received two motive videos, and it seems no one else received multiple. But who’s in the world did he receive and more importantly, which should he watch first?

·       …

·       He slid the first pad under his pillow after seeing it.

·       Now what about this other one? Who’s loved one or ones would he see, a person who would be twisted into making a person to want to kill.

·       No one. He just saw a lone picture of Monokuma, apologizing that even after searching and searching there was not a soul to be in the outside world who cared for you.

·       Huh…

·       Kokichi watched the video once more absent mindedly.

·       Even if there was no one in the outside world, that didn’t mean there was no one, after all, he cared, and surely your new friends here did too.

·       Wait, No, no he didn’t! He didn’t care at all! He had to keep repeating that lie to himself so he wouldn’t do anything rash. He needs to be the antagonist, it’s the only way to protect the others without Monokuma getting in the way. It seems his plan to get everyone to watch all the motive videos was all the more important now. In Kokichi’s it stated D.I.C.E. was in danger, people he knew, but if the video said you had no one, surely you… you’d already know you had no one, right? Perhaps there was more of a story behind your becoming the Super High School Level Survivalist than what you had lead others to believe. You lived in the wild because there was no one in human society for you to return to… Was that it?

·       The others were kind folks, surely upon seeing this, they’d all clamor around you, saying they cared about you, Kokichi could even remind them of that promise they made with Kaede, make them think he was antagonizing you in the process, so they’d be extra protective of you, and hopefully making you feel cared for with them all the while saying you WERE friends. You’d have a reason to survive for others and not only yourself. As much as Kokich wished he could be a part of that reason, he could not. But… perhaps he could be a part of the reason you keep surviving for others and not only because it’s all you know how to do after you have escaped… All the more reason to get the others to cooperate discreetly and end this killing as soon as possible.

   Ryoma Hoshi:

·       Ryoma found you to be a rather interesting individual the moment you had met, the Super High School Level Survivalist. You were not fearful of death, yet still did all you could to avoid it. You’d say just waiting to die is an insult to life itself. Once Ryoma had asked you if you had no reason to live. “Why do I need a reason? Isn’t being born enough of a reason? If you’re dead you can’t find this so called ‘reason’ so… you just have to keep living till you find one I guess. Most all creatures do ANYTHING to live, the only exception to that are humans, we humans are arrogant enough to think we’re above life, so we take advantage of our apathy and die for the sake of being too scared to face ourselves, our inner voices and pains. Humans who have the gaul to just give up and die are the worst scum of the world. Their life would have been better off given to a virus, at least that would appreciate the gift and do whatever it could to keep it.” Living for the sake of life and nothing more… an interesting concept Ryoma could simply not wrap his mind around. “Heh, I suppose I still got a ways to go.”

·       Then seeing your motive video… Ryoma knew if he had received a video like this… he’d maybe… Ryoma thought you were much stronger than him, to want to and be able to keep going for your own sake, not needing to cling to anyone or anything else. Still though, he was glad he had gotten this instead of you. Even if you truly fine completely on your own… surely this would still hurt. After all, “Survival is not just about the individual. Sometimes survival means to sacrifice your own life so others may live. This killing game is testing that. The majority surviving is one of the main goals of life, so life can keep creating itself in an endless cycle for the sake of itself and nothing more.” Survival is not just about living, it’s protecting so many, so knowing no one cared, no one to protect…

·       What was Ryoma thinking? Everyone here is those who you were trying to protect, even if you had someone on the outside world you cared for, you’d likely say something like ‘if they are hurt or dead they are already hurt or dead the only thing that would change is my knowledge of it.’ Your first priority right now is saving as many as you could from this killing game.

·       The next time Ryoma saw you he told you, you were an admirable individual, and that Ryoma wanted to protect as many people as he could, like you, no matter what it took, that would be survival according to you, right?

   Kaito Momota:

·       Kaito didn’t bother looking at the video he had gotten at first, just heading straight for the dining hall for breakfast. There he had learned it was a motive to kill! He was not going to play along in this killing game! That’s just stupid! As they say great minds think alike for you didn’t watch the video you got either. “Seeing the motive would only be useful if A. we all watched each other’s videos so we could all keep each other calm and all mourn our loved ones together, or B. since they all seem to be mixed up, learn more about the others around us so we may help them through this. You can learn a lot about a person through their loved ones.” Now… that was in interesting thought to Kaito. Maybe by watching all your videos together it’d build comradery between you all and strengthen your resolve to defeat Monokuma and his cubs. Or if not, he could get to know one individual so he could help them through this madness better. Teamwork and communication were the most important things needed to get out of here. That was what he thought about as he sat on his bed, holding the pad in his lap.

·       Then Kaito abruptly stood up, tossing the pad aside, thinking this was stupid and to just leave the thing be. Though in the process, the video began to play and before he could stop it, he had learned of it’s owner and how supposedly, no one on the outside cared about you… Whatever, that wouldn’t be the case for long. You’d all be on the outside soon enough so soon you would have people out there who cared about you!

·       After that Kaito changed a little. He became more attentive and spent more time with you. He’d occasionally join you in your training or just chat with you about whatever on your breaks. He soon started insisting on joining you during your meal breaks, rather enjoying seeing you gush over Kirumi’s cooking, explaining how it was so much better tasting than what you had often scavenged for yourself. You even ended up starting to teach Kaito some survival techniques, this was rather fun since Kaito was already somewhat educated on the subject, being introduced to it through astronaut training, he was able to easily understand some of your more complicated techniques.

·       You were not sure why Kaito had started this, but when he invited you to join him, Shuichi, and Maki for more training in the evenings… it warmed your heart. If only one good thing came of this mess, you at least got the chance to connect with others again. This… was rather rarer and special for you.

   Kiibo:

·       The motive video. Kiibo was rather hesitant to look at it, but in the end, he decided to watch it. Knowledge is power, so knowing what was on it would surely be better than not, right? Perhaps this could help him in some way to escape or help the others. All he knew for sure was that he would never know unless he tried. And so he watched.

·       What he saw… it broke his metaphorical heart. You had no one. You were just completely alone… That was a sentiment Kiibo was rather familiar with, though there was a difference. Kiibo, even if he felt lonely so much of the time especially so here, like the others reject him and don’t see him as a person, he at least had Dr. Idabashi and memories of him to hold close, but you… He wondered if you ever felt lonely out in the wild or if it was the only place where you could feel at home because there was no one in society for you.

·       “Hey, Y/N, want to do something together?” That was a phrase you had become so familiar with. At first Kiibo would approach you once in a while which quickly turned to him seemingly spending all his free time with you and no one else. Since he was a robot and training held no purpose for him Kiibo kept count for you. Soon though you felt guilty for him just counting all day so you offered to do other things. “After all, you never know what knowledge will come in handy. Who knows, maybe knowing how to do underwater basket weaving could save our lives one day!” “… Y/N, I can see no scenario where that could ever be a possibility.” “Oh, Kiibo, my friend, you’re too closed minded. Skills can be applied to many situations, knowing how to underwater basket weave can have applications in other places, like knowing how to hold one’s breath for a long time, how to see or at least get a feel for the area around you while underwater, or the obvious, just weaving baskets.” Though your example was silly Kiibo found your argument logical and went along with it.

·       Sometimes you’d go read in the library, sometimes you’d cook together, others you’d search through the storage room and see whatever for the sake of seeing if Monokuma had hidden anything dangerous there, other times… you just go for a walk around the grounds, talk like you were some place else, perhaps a school and you were just two teens at break time, pretend you were in a better world and forget about your reality for a moment. Those were both your and Kiibo’s favorite moments. There was no fear, there was no suspicion, there was no just trying to survive, you could just live peacefully. Kiibo hoped he could have years worth of moments like this with you, were this ‘game’ was but a long-forgotten memory.

[illusory-torrent]

Why I prefer the Genshin Impact fandom to the RWBY fandom.

I'll start off by saying what many of us are thinking. It's sad that the ships are nearly the only thing the RWBY fandom talks about because the plot leaves so many in a state of dissatisfaction. I've seen so many RWBY fans and non-fans alike say, "Oh, I don't care about the plot, I'm only watching for [insert ship here]" or "I'm going to drop the show if [insert ship here] doesn't happen". For those who doubt me, please believe me, it's a thing. 

Now, when I say that the RWBY fandom only really cares for shipping, you might ask, "Is that not what every fandom does though?"

Well... yes! You're right. However, I think the RWBY fandom takes it to the next level. 

First off, the theory-making side of the RWBY fandom has completely died. I remember there being videos theorizing if Yang was part-dragon Faunus or Ruby being a fox Faunus. These days, the fandom's theories boil down to, "What's up with the void that Team RWBY fell into?" due to V8's ending, but back during V5-V7, there were hardly any theories being posted. Most people just don't care anymore. 

Second off, Miles and Kerry struggle with writing characters outside of pairs. Not just romantic pairs, but pairs in general. Most characters only have interacts with their team partners, their love interests, their familial relationships, and... that's it. Blake is a prime example of this. Her best interactions are with Yang (her team partner), Sun (her former love interest), Ilia (another former love interest), and Adam (her ex-boyfriend). Her worst interactions are with Ruby (her team's leader, whom she hardly interacts with) and pretty much everyone else. Even her interactions with Weiss are few and far between. Another example would be Penny. Prior to Volume 3, Penny's best interactions were with Ruby. Penny hardly interacted with anyone else in a meaningful way. She dies and Ruby's tearful reaction is focused on. Why? Because she's one of the few characters Penny actually had a relationship with! Penny comes back in Volume 7, and she still only really interacts with Ruby. Her only new relationship that's developed is with Winter... and we find out why. It's because when Penny is killed by Jaune, her maiden powers are transferred to Winter, the rightful owner.

Miles and Kerry being unable to write outside of pairs is why we only have each of our characters only interact with certain other characters. Before Jaune helped kill Penny, did he ever even have a real conversation with her? We'll never know! Has Blake even talked to Jaune before? No idea! Did Yang even care that Pyrrha died? Probably, but we viewers literally never see the two interact prior to Pyrrha's untimely demise.

This type of writing (whether intentionally or unintentionally done) promotes shipping culture. Characters interact primarily with their love interests (who may or may not also be their team partners). This is why RWBY's fandom is so focused on shipping. Hell, even Blake's VA tweeted at Clover's VA with a joke regarding this.

Clover's VA: Has anybody heard of this thing, “shipping?”

Blake's VA: Welcome to RWBY.

[Photo for anyone who needs proof, in case these Tweets are deleted in the future.]

Blake's VA even once had to make a post saying, "Y’all, you know I love my Bees, but not everything is Bee related. Some is just RWBY hype in general. Calm yo’self.". The fact she even had to clarify that not everything she posts about RWBY is related to a ship is astounding. Imagine having to tell your audience that not everything you post is related to a fictional pairing. 

The RWBY cast even had an segment on The Ship-It Show where, you guessed it, they talked about their favorite and least favorite ships. Their tagline even was that "Shipping is a creative expression, so don't limit your creativity!", which went over with the fandom about as well as one would expect. 

Finally, Miles Luna recently posted a Cameo video where he stated, "Just remember: shipping is fun and pretend, and it’s just supposed to be a good time. Don’t be one of those people that attack other shippers and get real mean and toxic. We’re all just here having fun with wonderful make believe characters and make believe worlds, and I think that is a beautiful activity, as long as you’re doing it responsibly and kindly." 

So as you can see, shipping is a big part of the RWBY community. I'd venture to say that shipping is the most important part of the RWBY community. And that's fine! Shipping in itself isn't a bad thing. It's only when it gets completely out of hand where it becomes a problem. And I feel it is becoming a problem in the RWBY community. Rooster Teeth, if you need your show-writers to remind the fandom that shipping is supposed to be fun, you have a problem. 

Well, how does Genshin Impact avoid that problem? The fandom itself is large and the game is quite popular, so how does it handle not becoming a complete shitfest shipfest? 

For starters, Mihoyo doesn't confirm any ships at all. This is for profit reasons, the game is a gacha game designed for players to spend money on their "waifus" and "husbandos". Characters have outfit customization for this exact purpose. Mihoyo benefits from keeping characters canonically single. This is why, while people think soon-to-be-released characters like Ayaka and Tohma are dating, many people also believe these same characters to be single. 

Second off, VAs are unable to give their opinions on certain ships and on lore. For example, the VA for Lumine, the main female protagonist, confirmed that Lumine was 15, before apologizing and deleting her comments. The VA for Childe signed some Childe x Lumine artwork to sell, but blatantly stated that he only really shipped Childe with Childe. The VAs avoid discussing unconfirmed ships/lore and, in this way, Mihoyo avoids controversy. 

Finally, Genshin Impact only recently came out. This means that the theorizing part of the fandom is still alive and well. There's plenty to theorize about since there's so much us players don't know about the story. Lore tidbits are celebrated by lore junkies, folks who want to theorize on the characters' backstories or on the protagonist's journey to find their twin sibling are more than welcome to do so. 

So while the Genshin Impact community engages in tons of shipping, none of the ships are more canon than any other. A Zhongli x Childe shipper might argue that their ship is canon because Zhongli gifted Childe some chopsticks, but a Zhongli x Ningguang shipper could easily argue back that Ninguang is a reincarnation of Zhongli's former friend/partner Guizhong. And of course, a non-shipper could look at both of these arguments and believe them both to be false.

I think this allows shipping to remain a fun and lighthearted activity in the Genshin Impact fandom. You can ship what you'd like, or you can just enjoy the plot and lore like a normal gamer. 

So where am I going with this? Well, my thoughts are that no matter what the fandom, there will always be shipping. There's always gonna be some degenerates (like myself) who see two cute characters and want them to get together. However, it's up to the creators themselves to decide where to go with ships or to even entertain them at all. Mihoyo, in my opinion, handles the Genshin Impact fandom's shipping craze much more successfully than Rooster Teeth handles the RWBY fandom. 

So what are your thoughts? If you're in both fandoms, which fandom do you prefer and why? Let me know!

[niennavalier]

AC: Rogue - Second Chances

Summary: He's not an Assassin anymore - Shay has no doubts about that. He's less sure where that leaves him in the world, or in the context of this centuries-long war between Assassins and Templars. But when he's presented with a second chance - from a Templar, no less - he has to question all that he's done in the past. And all that he'll do in the future.

Character study set during AC: Rogue Sequence 3-1 "The Color of Right".

(Also posted on AO3)

*****

Shay isn’t sure what he’d been expecting. There’s little he remembers of the moment after being shot, aside from perhaps accepting his fate, knowing that, at the very least, he’d stopped the Assassins from leveling more cities. But he hadn’t expected to wake up at all, much less in a comfortable home and cared for by a kindly couple.

He’d not thought that he could be surprised by much else, but then Mrs. Finnegan - Cassidy - had handed him some clothing, and now, dressing himself, he can’t help but think.

They were our son's . Those words - they keep circling through his head as he readjusts the coat, finishes tightening his belt. Because he can't keep the thought from his mind.

The Finnegans' son - he'd been a Templar.

He'd not wanted to believe it at first, seeing the crosses at his shoulders, telling himself it was something else, something he'd seen elsewhere. It wasn't the Templar cross, and the couple who'd taken him in and cared for him as their own - they weren't Templars. They weren’t the same people he’d spent years fighting.

But pulling the strap for his rifle over his shoulder, the other cross settling on top of his heart, it’s not something he can deny. Somehow, he’s certain of it; whether the Finnegans are Templars themselves, their son had been.

And now he’s wearing the lad’s clothes. It’s something that makes him all the more aware of the hidden blades at his wrists - nothing feels quite right about any of this. Not that he can do much about it.

Sighing and shaking the thoughts from his head for now, he takes the time to tie his hair away from his face and happens to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Looking as he does, he has no doubt his younger self would've thought him a Templar himself, some fanatic obsessed with order. With his weapons returned, he looks every bit a man ready to fight for all that he’d once fought against . Though it's not like he has much choice; he doubts his old clothes had survived the ordeal.

He's not mourning their loss, though. It's a sudden realization, and one he wasn’t expecting to have, but he hadn't been eager to don the hood again. And he still isn't, perhaps would never be. Stranger still, it's not a thought he can bring himself to regret.

Wearing the uniform of the people he’d called enemies is unsettling, but as his last memories of the Homestead flash through his mind - all those he’d called friends, called family , suddenly turned against him - he’s certain that wearing his own robes would’ve been worse.

As he steps back into the main room, though, it’s like none of that even matters. The way Cassidy’s eyes light up - “Oh, well don’t you look a right gentleman!” - it fills him with something warm that he can’t remember when he last felt. Warmth. Family. Feeling like he doesn’t have to work to earn affection, the way he suspects it feels to have parents, despite never properly knowing his own.

Perhaps it shouldn’t feel as novel as it does, but he can’t help freezing on the spot. How is he meant to respond to that?

So he doesn't respond, at least, not directly. He asks about the Manuscript - lost, apparently, and some mix of relief and anger flares in his chest. Good, better that no one can get their hands on the damned thing. Good-hearted folk like these - they wouldn't be caught in the crossfire ever again. He'd see to that.

***

He's not expecting it when a man approaches him from behind, the cross on his sash - a Templar cross, it must be - the first and only thing Shay sees. His hand is reaching back for his pistols before he even realizes it - trust isn't something he's keen on having in spades for now.

"Be at ease, Master Cormac, we are friends.” Doubtful. But the man does know his name, somehow, even if Shay can’t guess why. Does he also know -? He must. This dance they’re doing - it’s too familiar. Both of them know what the other is (or rather, was , Shay supposes). He’d have to tread carefully; he has no idea what this Templar wants with him. “The Finnegans were worried you might take matters into your own hands. I am Colonel George Monro.”

Shay nods, the safest thing he can think to do. “Colonel.” The Finnegans, he’s willing to trust, and the Colonel knowing them might have meant something had their son not also been a Templar. As it stands, the connection means little.

“I came to help, but it seems I am late. Thank you for dealing with these foul criminals.” He eyes the gang leader (the Assassin-trained gang leader) Shay had killed just minutes earlier. “They were a blight on New York.”

The words are quick to rub him wrong. “What do you care?” For all Shay might agree about the gangs, he’d yet to meet a British officer who gave a damn about the colonists. Much less one who was a Templar, besides. “You Redcoats are nothing but landlords. The townsfolk here are grinding away, trying to make a living.” And for what, really?

“I cannot blame you for having that impression.” Of course he can’t. It’s true, and Shay had seen it himself. The restrictions keeping merchants from trading as they pleased, the dangers and hardships braved by the colonists only for their earnings to line the pockets of the Crown. It’s the truth, not just an impression. “Some of my comrades have been less than helpful. But I take a different approach.”

“And what is that?” The words are bitter on his tongue.

“I care. I want to see these colonists safe and prosperous.” Years of training are screaming in his head not to trust this man. That he's just another Templar snake who's willing to say anything if it gets him his way. There's no way for Shay to know if he means any of the things coming out of his mouth.

"Noble words." But were any of them true? He’d naively thought others as righteous as the Colonel made himself out to be, and they’d all proven otherwise.

"Perhaps actions will convince you otherwise, Master Cormac." The Colonel gestures for him to lead the way, and he hesitates for a moment - it's a trick, it has to be - before thinking deeper on it. Betrayal still lingers in his mind, learning that the people he’d called his family cared more about ancient artifacts than they did him, or the thousands of innocent lives on the line. He knows now that they must have lied to him all along, and, really, were they all that different from the Templars? Now, he’s not an Assassin anymore, and that’s not enough to change any of what he believes about the Templars, but it’s enough to make him think.

Perhaps he could hear the Colonel out, if nothing else. At worst, his beliefs would be confirmed yet again. At best…

He's not ready yet to think there can be a better outcome.

***

“You can do great things for this city and its citizens. After all, a man needs purpose.” Those are the last words he hears from the Colonel before the man takes his leave, and they cut into him deeper than he'd like to admit. Though it's not for a bad reason of any sort. The way he explains himself - Shay can't help but feel like he can trust him. Perhaps because it sounds like the Colonel trusts him in return, despite having never met, and the two of them having stood on opposite sides. There's more than a chance that it should worry him, but instead it makes him think of something else - the orders and harsh reprimands from the Assassins. He'd known none of them (save maybe Liam) had ever really trusted him or his skills, but he'd not thought that much of it at the time. Assumed it was normal, being that he'd been the newest one there, but now, the way the Colonel was talking to him, he's starting to rethink that. Perhaps starting to resent that, too, whether he likes it or not.

It’s a selfish reason to make any kind of decision, and he knows as much, refreshing as all of it might feel. It’s not something he’d act on alone - he’s already seen what blind faith and desperation can do, and who can pay the price of death and destruction as a result. Lisbon flashes through his mind, as clear as if it’d happened yesterday. Screams of pain and terror still ring in his ears as smoke and sulfur make his eyes and nose sting, heat from the flames burning his cheeks. His rib smarts, and for a moment, he thinks it’s from tumbling through a crumbling building, crashing against walls and floors and furniture, not from falling off a cliff at the Homestead.

He forces himself to breathe and shakes the memories from his mind. That’s what he can’t let happen again. That’s what he has to make right, no matter what it takes.

And so he can't help but feel drawn in by all the things Colonel Monro said, about just doing right by the people. Making their lives better, not through freedom or control - not through the Assassins or Templars - but just by helping where they can.

As badly as he wants to remain skeptical, he can’t find a problem in that, at least.

But he still stands and watches for some time after that, wanting to see for himself. He stays along the sidelines as the citizens of New York wander by, their eyes turning bright as they hear that the old building is to be restored. From their conversations, he learns that the place had once been a church, left to disrepair now with the threat of war hanging over them. And seeing it ready to be restored - it visibly fills them with hope, and that lights something warm in his chest. Something that he's not sure when he felt last.

It reminds him of the way he’d felt when he’d first joined the Assassins, hopeful, and like he was finally sure of what he was doing. But he’d been a fool, then - he knows that, now - and hadn’t known that he’d hurt far more people than he’d help.

He can't say where he stands when it comes to the Assassins and Templars, to the endless war he'd fought in without ever really understanding it, but he's always trusted himself to know what's right. And this - seeing the lives of normal, everyday folk made easier - he can feel is right.

And for now, perhaps that would be enough.

He can accept that much, and knows he should head back to the Finnegans - all else aside, he trusts them. But as he winds through the familiar streets of his home, he can't help but think on the Colonel's offer. The man may be a Templar, but what he's offering - this way to just help people - it feels like a second chance. Like a way to start atoning for all the lives lost in Lisbon. Exactly what the Assassins wouldn't allow him to do.

Perhaps… perhaps this is the way forward. He may not be fully ready to trust the man yet, for all that he seems honorable, but doing some good for the people of the city, protecting them against those who would do them harm - that much, he would do.

[miracle-sham]

Stitch Your Ragged Wings and Hope to Soar.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 5: Fairytales} |

| [Ao3 Link] | | [Masterlist Link] | | [Spotify Playlist Link] |

| The folk tales always speak of those destined for greatness. Heroes alongside their faithful dragons, fighting the ever turning tides against evil. But they're just that, folk tales. After all, what are the chances a border-town apprentice seamstress like Marinette, would ever be offered a different vocation by the recruitment guild. |

| Word Count: 3,428. |

| Warnings/Tags: Kingdom/Fantasy/No Miraculous/Dragon Riders Au, Minor Lila & Adrien salt, Canon Typical lies and manipulation from Lila, Explicit Language/Swearing, and Some Fluff. |

———

| A/N: First things first, the word 'Dragoon' will be used multiple times in this piece and it is spelled that way on purpose (see end notes for further explanation). Secondly, yep! It's a dragon riding/academy au. This is the first piece of the series, which I'm really excited for because I've spent ages worldbuilding for! And for anyone worried about salt mention, it is addressed in this piece but the tag is there because of canon-typical Lila manipulation and lies, plus no Miraculous means no reason for Adrien with his sheltered upbringing to realise she's lying. |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

It's been a few days of tense stagecoach travel. And to be fair to Marinette, even she hadn't expected to be declared in the middle of the town square as showing aptitude for a position within the Justice League's armée volante—specifically the dragoon squadrons—thanks to the recruitment guild no less.

Unfortunately, Adrien and Lila had also shown an aptitude. Which, seeing as they all come from the same border-town of Paris, meant they were all trapped inside the same cramped coach space for the excruciating four days journey to reach Gotham Town; the place where they are being sent to attend the dragoon academy, which is technically outside the bounds of the town proper. Seeing as the Gotham Dragoon Academy and Somerset Dragon Range are on the opposite shores of the Gotham river to the town itself.

There's only another half-day until they reach the Mooney bridge and then the Somerset

Dragon Ranges. And luckily, Adrien and Lila have taken to sitting on the same bench, the one facing forwards. Leaving the opposite bench all for Marinette.

Not that having a whole bench to myself for this time will help with whether I can continue to survive as a captive audience for Lila. Marinette thinks to herself, rather disgruntled about this whole situation she's unwillingly ended up in. She was perfectly happily remaining an apprentice seamstress, sewing commissions for Jagged Stone, Clara Nightingale, and the rest of her famous or otherwise clientele, not that fate seemed to care though. Of course, a part of her stipulation she fought the recruiters for, is that along with her studies she can continue her commissions for current and prior clientele alone. Which is to say, better than being completely unable to continue her main hobby and form of stress relief.

The recruiters had also said that baking and cooking would be no problem to practice, as apparently there'll be free reign to "student kitchens" alongside cooking classes so any use of either skill will be "undoubtedly encouraged". Dangerous words, Marinette muses to herself once more, because if I get claimed by a dragon the first thing I'm doing is baking all the dragon dietary-safe treats I can!

“Marinette! What do you think?” Lila asks, voice as cloying as ever.

Marinette startles and half-heartedly smiles awkwardly across at her, “ah, I'm really sorry Lila! I got distracted wondering what kind all of our dragons might end up being and how they might look!” Not, I'm going to love mine regardless of appearance unlike you.

Smiling faux-sweetly, Lila shakes her head. “Don't worry Marinette, I was only saying how we're just like those local fairytales of your town! Three close-knit friends who become powerful and famous dragoon guardians and save the world from the evil destruction of Hawkmoth and his army of shadow dragons! Out of the three of us, I would be our leader, obviously. Since I'm the only one here descended from a dragoon guardian! My grandmother even gave me a token that once belonged to my dragoon guardian ancestor!”

“Wow, you've said it before but I still can't believe how incredible you are Lila! It's going to be amazing training besides you at the academy!” Adrien gushes, gazing at Lila with adoration.

Lila preens at his words. “Thank you, Adrien! But Marinette, since you mentioned what our dragons will be, did you know my ancestor's dragon was said to be the most beautiful of all the dragons in the Justice League squadrons! My ancestor's dragon had orange scales that glimmered red and yellow like flames, and pearlescent white scales along the underbelly. Oh, and the horns were pearlescent white too! Obviously, the dragon I'll get is sure to be a descendant of that dragon and just as beautiful.”

“Wow, no wonder your ancestor's dragon was the most beautiful, they sound absolutely gorgeous! What kind of dragon do you think I'll get, Lila?” Adrien asks, eyes shining with awe and curiosity.

She puts on a show of holding her chin and humming. “Hmm, probably a golden dragon, with shiny scales as bright as the sun!”

“I hope you're right!” Adrien chuckles, “the fairy tales really would be coming true if we both get the dragons you think we will! One with scales of fire, another with scales of gold!”

“It really would.” Marinette echoes weakly, not really believing in her own words.

Lila laughs, “awww don't sound so worried Marinette, your dragon will probably be a plain and drab dragon with some sort of shade of brown, or maybe even grey. But at least it won't be attention-grabbing. So you won't need to worry about people staring and judging or dragons-forbid trying to hurt you for having a prettier dragon than any nobles!”

Marinette smiles, though it turns out far more grimace-like than intended, whoops. “Yeah… that'd be awful. Haha, I'd be really lucky to get a dragon like you described for me, Lila.”

“Oh, I'm so glad you understand, Marinette! Then again, all three of us are besties so of course you'd understand!” Lila titters, crossing her fingers, “we're just like this!”

Screaming internally, Marinette nods and keeps smiling. Dragons-almighty, I'm at the end of my thread here. Hopefully, I'll be able to leave Lila's "friendship" behind at the academy without fear of mine and my parent's reputations being ruined by Lila's mother.

Her attention is briefly taken by the rolling view outside the stagecoach, unable to help herself she mumbles to herself, “the landscape here is so pretty.”

“It is pretty I guess, but not as pretty as my home country!” Lila pipes up, jumping on the new conversation—like a shadow dragon on a sheep.

Marinette shuts her eyes for a second and breathes deeply, chanting internally. The academy will be my fresh start.

———

The academy is not in fact Marinette's fresh start.

It is well past evenfall by the time their stagecoach passes through the gates of the imposing academy. It rounds a large fountain in the centre of the courtyard with a statue of a person encircled by a large dragon. However, due to the darkness and the movements of the stagecoach, any attempts at recognising whom the statue was dedicated after are thoroughly hampered. They roll to a stop before the great stone staircase—where a figure with a smaller giant rat-like creature beside them, is waiting at the top—which clearly leads to the grand front doors of the academy.

Even with the darkness obscuring the view, it's obvious that the academy is a repurposed castle. High stone walls with crenellations and littered towers, a main keep with a multitude of buildings surrounding the inner courtyard. And the most eye-catching of all, the shadowy draconic gargoyles that seem to cling and lurk upon every building.

It's impressive to say the least, certainly the most well-fortified building Marinette has ever stepped foot in her life. Impressive enough that it has her practically clawing to pull out a sketching journal and start creating. However, she's not stupid enough to do that within Lila's presence. No, that'd undoubtedly lead to honey-coated lies and being forced to listen to her prattle on about her wondrous skills and connections to the most prestigious fashion guild in the country.

Marinette startles as the stagecoach door is opened by a footman. She doesn't fuss as Lila exits first, followed by Adrien. As she steps outside last, she nods and smiles at the footman. Whispering as audibly as she can without the other two hearing, she adds, “thank you, sir.”

The footman simply glances at her attire and nods back stiffly.

In the time it's taken to all leave the stagecoach, the figure from the stairs has walked over—a woman with long blonde hair dressed in a casual black leather riding coat, and a not-dog following behind loyally. “Good evening, you must be the potential students from the town of Paris?”

Marinette hesitates for a second before nodding along with Adrien and Lila.

Lila takes a step forwards, towards the woman. “Yes, we are! I'm Lila Rossi.”

The woman nods slowly, “and the other two must be Adrien Agreste and Marinette Dupain-Cheng, correct?”

“That's correct!” Adrien responds with a bright smile.

Marinette nods and makes an affirmative squeak instead.

“Great.” The woman says, clapping her hands. “I'm Dinah Lance and I'll be one of your instructors during your attendance here. And this,” She pauses to point to the weird giant not-rat with its yellow flecked greyish-brown fur, “is Drake, he's my Ichneumon. You'll learn all about Ichneumon and why they're used within the dragoon squadron during your time here, so don't worry if you've never heard or seen of them before.”

Drake makes a high pitched trill and takes a few steps forward, sniffing the air in front of the three of them. Before scampering in a circle around Dinah Lance.

She smiles fondly at Drake before continuing. “Unfortunately it's a little late to give you the tour of the grounds now, so we'll cover that tomorrow. Tonight we'll guide you to the dining hall for a late night's meal since it's been a long journey for you three or so I've heard, and you must be starving. Then we'll discuss the main details of your attendance, and afterwards, we will show you to the temporary rooms you will be staying in, to begin with. Any questions?”

Lila rocks on the heels of her boots before shaking her head, “no, we've got no questions!”

Adrien copies with a shake of his head too.

Marinette opens her mouth to protest, were you waiting out in the cold for us long? Will the tour teach us about the different places within the academy? Will it take long? What do you mean by the main details? Why are we staying in temporary rooms to begin with? When do our lessons start? Do we need to purchase any uniforms or schooling supplies? When will we meet our dragons? Questions bubbling in her mind like a kettle over the fire, but closes her mouth just as quickly, as she catches a glare from Lila out of the corner of her eye. With that, she also briefly and nervously shakes her head. “N–no, no questions here either, Mlle Lance.”

Internally, Marinette hopes that display is enough to tide over Lila's irritation for now.

Mlle Lance glances over the three of them, seeming to stare at Marinette a little longer than the other two. “Well then, since there are no questions, let us head to the dining hall. And don't worry about your belongings, the footman will bring them to your lodgings.”

“Oh, Mlle Lance, I'd–uh… I'd rather not hassle the staff here, I can manage bringing my belongings up on my own.” Marinette admits, wringing her hands slightly.

Mlle Lance shakes her head, “that's very polite of you but I'm afraid, as you'll be having dinner and we'll be discussing details, it'll be a little while before you head to your temporary rooms. So it'll be far easier on both you and the staff here, if you allow them to do their job.”

“Okay…” Marinette relents easily, trying to ignore Lila rolling her eyes at her.

“If there are no more further questions, then follow after me please, the academy can be rather labyrinthine for those unfamiliar with its halls.” Mlle Lance instructs, already turning around and walking back towards the great stone staircase, Drake on her heels.

———

The journey through the hallways and various anterooms of the academy takes far longer than Marinette could have anticipated. On more than one occasion, she ends up falling behind due to getting distracted by the sheer amount of luxury, art, and finery everywhere. Forcing her to frantically scurry after Mlle Lance, Lila, and Adrien—all three who seem completely at home and unperturbed or uninterested by the décor, unlike her.

By the time they reach the large and ornately carved wooden doors leading to the dining hall, Marinette is flushed bright red from the embarrassment of having fallen behind so many times.

The heavy doors creak loudly as they slowly swing open at Mlle Lance's push, revealing a large dining hall—far larger than any Marinette has seen—with seemingly hundreds of wooden tables and benches. Startlingly enough, there's a boy already seated at one of the nearer benches—eating away at a trencher of hunter's stew.

No Ichneumon in sight, Marinette notes, a fellow student perhaps?

“Good evening, Jason, I wasn't expecting anyone else to be in here at the moment.” Mlle Lance greeted, nodding her head to him.

Jason squints at Mlle Lance and hunches his shoulders defensively. “B said I could grab food from here whenever I wanted.”

Mlle Lance smiles, “and that's perfectly fine. These are new arrivals, so I was just hoping to let them have some dinner without the usual chaos before going over the main details they'll need to know about attending here.” She paused for a moment. “You don't have to stay and listen if you don't want to, since you've heard this spiel many times now. But equally, feel free to stay, I'm sure it'd be nice for you and the new arrivals to get to know each other before meeting the rest of the class tomorrow.”

Jason slowly eyes Lila, Adrien, and Marinette. He places an arm in front of his trencher. “Might as well stay then I guess.”

Mlle Lance nods at him again before guiding the three of them over to the back of the dining hall where the kitchen was connected to. A few cooks were tending to various meals and pots of hunter's stew, as well as prepping trenchers or cleaning wooden bowls, and wood or horn spoons.

Marinette is still half processing everything so receiving a trencher full of hunter's stew from the cooks barely registers in her mind. And next thing she knows, she is seated next to Lila on the end of the bench and table next to Jason, with Mlle Lance sitting opposite her, Lila, and Adrien. The other two have already started tucking into the food, so cautiously Marinette takes a few sips of the stew broth with a horn spoon.

Mlle Lance clasps her hands together and rests them on the table. “Let's start with what you three already know regarding the dragoon squadrons and this academy.”

Pausing in his eating, Adrien grins. “This is the longest standing dragoon academy, and we'll be taught everything from dragon history, to the language of the dragons, to what is known of Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army!”

“And,” Lila pipes up, “we'll pick our dragons that we'll train alongside and eventually become fully-fledged Dragoon Guardians with.”

Jason snorts, “sorry to break it you two but this isn't some fucking fairytale.”

Before Lila or Adrien could respond, Mlle Lance cleared her throat. “Right well firstly, Dragoon Guardians is somewhat of an archaic term I'm afraid. But you're not too far off with what you know.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason pretends to be suddenly interested in his trencher of stew.

Though, Marinette does catch him briefly glancing up at her with a curious but also disbelieving look in his eyes. She can't help but instinctively curl her shoulders in and make herself as small as possible.

“And Marinette, what do you know about the academy?” Mlle Lance adds.

Marinette hesitates, trembling slightly and licks her lips. “Uh, well I know roughly the same as Lila and Adrien, so nothing that hasn't been said already…”

She catches Jason squinting at her, and she curls up even more.

Mlle Lance nods thoughtfully, “to start with, Adrien, you are correct in that this is the longest standing dragoon academy. You're also correct that we teach our students dragon history—including the history of the dragoons—as well as teaching the language of the dragon. We also do teach regarding Hawkmoth and his shadow dragon army. However, that will be taught across multiple different subjects as it isn't quite as simple as it may currently seem to you.”

Adrien beams at having been mostly correct. “My father hoped I would be chosen to attend a dragoon academy so he made sure I was taught a general overview.”

“And that's more than most know to begin with, so well done.” Mlle Lance praises, before continuing. “However, Lila, here students do not pick their dragons. The process of meeting the dragon who will be raised and trained beside you, is not what most people think of when they first hear about dragoon human and dragon pairs meeting.”

Lila's lips twitch downwards in dissatisfaction and narrows her eyes slightly at Mlle Lance.

Before anything else can be said, Mlle Lance furrows her brows, “one moment students, a matter has just arisen that I need to quickly take care of.”

With that, she rises from the bench and strides out of the dining hall, shutting the door behind her as she exits.

As soon as the door shuts, Jason, with a concerned look on his face, gets up as well and walks the few steps over to Marinette's bench. Quietly, he asks, “Hey, you okay?”

Marinette swallows a breath of air thickly, and still visibly trembling, laughs nervously. “W-well I'm a little over-overwhelmed, I suppose… What with every—”

Only to slam her mouth shut as Lila wraps her arm around her shoulders, pulling her in close to her side.

“She's fine thank you,” Lila coos, “just not used to all the displays of wealth in the castle, here, isn't that right, Marinette.”

Marinette pales, eyes widening with panic and frantically nods her head. “Y-yep!”

Jason raises an eyebrow at Lila, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face as he turns ever so slightly to stare at her, “and you are?”

Lila perks up at his attention, flipping her hair back over her shoulder with one hand. “Didn't you hear Mlle Lance there, I'm Lila.” She smiles cloyingly at him and flutters her eyelashes. “I'm the daughter of a very important diplomat and one of my ancestors was an incredibly powerful Dragoon Guardian.”

Jason snorts, and rolls his eyes once more. “Right. Whatever.” He turns his attention back to Marinette and gives her a sharp nod. “What shit has the rich brat got hanging over your head?”

It clearly takes all of Lila's self-control to not immediately switch from her faux sweetness to fury. Her smile turns wooden and her gaze sharpens at Jason. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused,” Jason responds smugly.

“W-what do you mean?” Marinette asks, struggling to process the conversation after the slight cannonball that Jason just casually asked her.

He tilts his head at her, not unlike a bird. “She looks, sounds, and acts exactly like the kinda rich bastards that hold shit above kids who aren't rich, and you're clearly fucking petrified of her. So is she blackmailing you or something?”

Marinette mouths yes at him whilst shaking her head.

Jason raises an eyebrow at her for a second before shrugging with one shoulder, “alright.” He turns on his heel and heads back to his table and bench where his trencher of stew is waiting.

Lila gapes at him.

Adrien rises from his seat and stares at Jason, flabbergasted. “Aren't you going to apologise to Lila, now? You were wrong.”

Lifting his chin, Jason gives Adrien an unimpressed look then flips the bird at him. A few seconds pass before he shrugs and makes a non-committal noise of disinterest, then he starts spooning stew into his mouth.

Lila huffs and scowls at Jason. She turns to glare at Marinette, faux concern practically dripping from her words despite the evident fury on her face. “You should avoid him from now on, wouldn't want the teachers to think you're a delinquent and get kicked out before you even get to meet your dragon.”

Marinette nods slowly and keeps her attention very carefully on her food.

Her patience is rewarded as a few dozen seconds later, Lila loses interest in her and starts eating her trencher of stew whilst starting a new conversation with just Adrien.

Taking her chances, Marinette sneaks a glance up at Jason with a small smile on her lips.

To her surprise, he also happens to be looking over at her. He flashes her a cheeky grin, winks, before going back to eating.

Maybe, she muses to herself as her grin turns giddy, I was wrong about the academy not being my fresh start. Because this definitely feels like a fresh start now, it almost feels like I'm in a fairytale.

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| The dragon riders are called Dragoons in reference to the mounted cavalry called Dragoons who used guns/firearms known as Dragons hence the name. And so I decided it only makes sense for these dragon riders to also be called Dragoons. Armée volante means flying army and was what the historical dragoons were sometimes known as, because of how mobile they were. |

| Ichneumon, also known as Echinemon in Medieval Zoology are enemies of dragons (and snakes and crocodiles in some accounts) and defeated them by covering themselves in armour made from mud before attacking. They are also one the only creatures (the other being weasels) that are immune to the Cockatrices' petrifying sight. |

| Fun fact: Trenchers are flat round (often stale) bread "plates" used during the medieval era. They are cut in half and sometimes the fluffy bread innards are scooped out (like pumpkins) so that the loaf's crust forms a bowl instead. Usually the bowls are used to hold stews or soups, though they were also used for non-liquid based food (which is why they later evolved into our modern day plates and cheese boards). |

| Also feel free to send me any comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I'll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

[dandelion-wings]

Ooh… Diluc and Kaeya wingfic

Pretty much what it says on the tin! I'm not normally into wingfic as a trope, but I was gliding around in Mondstadt at one point and started thinking about what it would be like if the characters actually had wings, and then started worldbuilding on the concept, and ended up with an AU where everyone born in a nation with an archon has some kind of physical marker of their nationality--I'd figured out wings for Mondstadt (other nations still have gliders that imitate them, but Mondstadt folks get actual wings) and scales for Liyue, I'm still not sure exactly what Inazumans would have. (Though 'everyone can store a weapon inside them' would be kind of hilarious, ngl.) But if Kaeya is from a godless land and doesn't have any of those... it would make his origins a lot more obvious. And the Fatui do weird experiments on kids, as we know from the manga, so what if he got brand-new wings before he reached Mondstadt?

Originally it was supposed to be fairly light and entirely about Diluc teaching Kaeya to use his wings, and that's still the main throughline! But as I started writing it I realized how Kaeya's situation (he's never flown before, his wings are still brand-new so they hurt to touch, there's visible scars around them, he has no idea how to take care of them) and the story he gave Crepus in this AU (his mom was from Mondstadt and his dad from Natlan, his mom died when he was young, and his dad was taking him to Mondstadt to be among his own people and then... left him on the road with a fake excuse and vanished) would read to Crepus. So, uh, it developed a more serious subplot of Crepus being 100% convinced Kaeya's dad was an abusive bastard, and Kaeya slowly coming to terms with the fact that playing along with that is the best way to cement his position with the Ragnvindrs. WHOOPS. I can't just write cute things, apparently. XD;;

For a snippet, one of the places where those plots cross over:

"I wasn't allowed," he says, lies, because his father had told him this one to use. It sounds so much flimsier when he's saying it. "Since my mother wasn't around, there wasn't anyone to teach me. My father said he didn't want me to get hurt gliding."

"Not even to keep your balance? Or down stairs?" The young Ragnvindr looks aghast.

"No." Kaeya shakes his head. "I got in trouble if I spread them at all."

The older Ragnvindr has that thin-lipped look again, the one that has anger lurking behind it. Kaeya can guess by now who that anger's aimed at, and it doesn't make him want to bristle any less. Even when he hears what's coming out of his own mouth, the lies his father gave him, and it becomes even more clear that this was their purpose. It *does* sound bad, if someone already thinks that his father might have been cruel.

"You can't go your whole life without gliding!" The young Ragnvindr darts around him, in front of him, his wings half-spread, and grabs Kaeya's hands to hold him still when Kaeya starts to flinch back. "I'll teach you. Even if- when we find your father, he doesn't have to know. But until then, I'll teach you as much as I can. You deserve to know how to glide."

He says it with such innocent passion that it almost makes Kaeya feel guilty. But this is why he's here, isn't it? This is why his father arranged for him to get these wings. So that the Ragnvindrs will believe he's of Mondstadt, like them. And that, like them, he belongs upon the wind.

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

The Hard Things

Doing the right thing is never easy. Calum and Freya have a lot going for them. But what happens when fear gets in the way.

Inspired by I Follow Rivers by Marika Hackman and Starting Line by Luke Hemmings.

Calum X Black Female OC.

I cried once writing this. 7.4k words. Angst. Just angst and sarcasm.

@notinthesameguey is personally responsible for this. So blame her.

The Hard Things--Alternative Ending

Masterlist (on semi hiatus)

___________________________________

If Freya were going to be honest, she would admit that the second she saw Calum and his friends walk into the building she knew things were going to be bad. But Freya’s not being honest. Because being honest would almost include admitting just how too easy it was that day. How if those particular sequences of events hadn’t happened that specifically, then she wouldn’t be here--trying not to watch the quiver in his chin or the way he blinks rapidly. Then she wouldn’t be trying to forget the way his voice quakes.

But they did happen in that particular order. On a Thursday afternoon, he and his friends walked through the door. And here, here at this part, it’s easy to be honest.

Honestly, she is staring--way too hard and way too long at the rag-tag gaggle of people, but especially the man pulling up the rear of the group with a bright red hat snug on his head and covering his eyes, though not even the brim can hide the plump full lips pulled up into a tiny grin at something that must’ve been said. Because another guy, this one fairer-skinned in a hat too and a baggy t-shirt is also laughing. And of course, this group would enter just as Tre stepped away to check on the lanes already throwing. Vanessa wasn’t too far from the desk, but she was trying to help some parents figure out when they could schedule an event for someone’s birthday in the coming weeks.

This only leaves Freya as the only person available right now until rounds were completed to handle any new patrons. With a glance down to the clock on the computer, she could see that a couple more folks would be coming back to the front at any point. But clearly, that point wouldn’t come quick enough.

“Hi,” Freya greets flicking her gaze back up to the group with a quick smile. It’s the training. The fact that more than once she’d been told that customers liked her, especially the way she gave instructions but she needed to smile more. And if this weren’t the job keeping her afloat during her time of getting her degree, in addition to the administrative desk work she did at the university, she would leave here in a heartbeat. Possibly even in the blink of an eye. Whichever was faster.

“Hey! We were hoping you had a couple of lanes for us.”

Freya counts the head. “Just you seven?”

The guy that spoke initially turns the man in the back with the bright red hat on. “Still no word from her?”

The guy shrugs. “Don’t sweat it.” And Freya clings to every syllable. The almost sleepy drawl to his voice lined with a twinge of an accent. She can’t place it at first. But all of them share slight variations in it. The man in the red hat’s voice is low but smooth.

“Yeah just the seven of us,” a taller man pipes in.

“Okay, we can only have two people throwing on a lane at a time. I can put you on neighboring ones but we’ve got very strict rules about how many people can throw at a time.”

There’s a murmur amongst the group but eventually, it comes back to Freya that they’re okay with it. She runs down the safety rules, the forms they have to form out, and checks their IDs. She notices the man with the red hat’s name is Calum and though she knows she shouldn’t, she tries to commit it to memory. It won’t last long. She forgets names all too fast, but she never forgets a face.

“Nessa, watch the desk for me!” Freya calls out as she collects the cases with the axes and directs the party to their lanes. There’s a table for convening and a separate for the axes to rest. “Alright,” she starts with a quick whistle to settle the group. They get chatty but are quick to turn their attention back to her. “I don’t want to kick anyone out, but I will. So one last recap of the rules.”

When Freya finishes, she has the entire group repeat the rules back to her. When they return it to her all correctly, she smiles. “I appreciate y’all already. There are several range officers. They monitor carefully from several posts,” and she points them out as she speaks. “The shift rotates out in an hour. Meaning you’ll have to pause let the old shift go and let the new shift jump in. You’ll hear beeps to signal you to stop and start. If you have any other questions or concerns, you can find me at the front or a range officer. And we’ll be happy to help. Let’s keep all fingers, toes, extremities, and eyeballs intact and we can have a great day together. Enjoy.”

Usually, in her safety spills and best way to throw, Freya makes sure to keep eye contact with everyone in the group. However, she places a purposeful gaze on Calum when she tells them to enjoy. It’s reckless--she knows that. A little flirting hasn’t hurt her. Besides, she knows the moment she walks away, he’ll forget about her. They always did and she likes it like that. Flirty enough to keep good reviews, but never too flirty to insinuate anything more.

In her departure, Freya feels eyes on her, lasting longer than usual. And maybe she put more emphasis behind the swish of her hips and maybe she hoped it was Calum watching her walk away. But she doesn’t dare turn around. No matter how much she hopes in a fleeting second that maybe she had flirted just a little too much, Freya does not turn around to confirm or deny anything.

Back at the front desk, Freya takes a look at the cameras. Anyone at the front can see the lanes too--it’s for safety when you have live blades. Her gaze travels over each one though just out of the corner of her eye she catches the bright red hat. A few guys clasp him on the back but she can’t hear whatever else is said. The rest of the afternoon goes by slowly. As people leave, few come in to replace them. The weekend will be busier--it always in. And Freya knows that soon too, once the afternoon becomes evening things will pick up just a little.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Everything okay?”

Freya barely sees who it is talking before they’re out of the door. Calum, phone pressed to his ear. She watches him for a beat as he paces near the front windows of the establishment. Her gaze doesn’t linger long before something on the floor catches her eye. She sees it’s black and square. When she gets closer it looks like a wallet. Clearly used and loved by the creases in it. She glances back up to Calum to see him still on the phone and peeks at the ID just to make sure who it belongs to.

With the blank stare of Calum’s ID photo looking up at her, Freya takes it back behind the desk. She’ll wait until he gets off the phone. A minute or two later, the door chimes again with Calum reentering.

“Hey, you dropped this,” she calls out, stepping out from the desk to hold out the wallet.

Calum pats his pockets and a split second panic causes his eyes to go wide. “Oh shit, thanks. I-I didn’t even realize it fell out of my pocket.”

“No worries. Just glad to get it back to you.” Calum takes it and slips it into his pocket, hands patting the outside to make doubly sure it’s secure. “You guys doing okay back there?

“Yeah, we’re good. Though I think somehow the girls are kicking our asses.”

Freya smiles with a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “It’s power and finesse. You can tear down brick buildings but if you don’t get the release right so it’s not twirling over the axis too many times, you’ll come up with nothing.”

“So says the expert?”

Her cheeks heat for a second at the raised eyebrow Calum gives her. Running her tongue over her teeth to hide the smile, Freya nods. “Yeah, I’ve thrown an axe or two in my lifetime. So I guess that counts as me being an expert.”

Calum laughs. Whether it’s at her or not, Freya’s not sure. But she likes the sound of it. “Tell me what else the expert suggests.”

A moment passes where Freya’s watching his gaze. Wondering if an anime glint will twinkle over his brown eyes because it’s a smooth delivery. Smoother than some of the stuff she’s done. There’s no way he’s fucking real.

Freya takes a half step back, slipping through the threshold that separates the front desk from the main lobby and the hallway to the back where the lanes are set up. “This expert suggests that you try her advice and impress all your friends.”

“More finesse. In the wrist, right?”

“In the wrist.”

A shy smile is shared between the two of them. It borders telling everything and saying nothing at all, borders on giving away on how much Calum might’ve considered concocting a ruse just to get her attention and how much he did backtrack on his plan because it was his sister calling and that shocked him. The smile borders on Freya twirling the Havana twists around her finger and her rolling her eyes at Calum’s thinly veiled attempts at flirting.

Both of them are saved by the front door chiming and Freya gives a nod to Calum before turning her attention to the person now entering. But Calum watches the way she leans into the counter and smiles down at the small child standing next to their parent. “Oh my god, you’re getting so big,” Freya comments and then walks back around to settle next to them.

“No, Fre, I’m not bigger dan yesterday,” the kid responds.

“Huh, could’ve fooled me. Your dad will be out in just a second. Shift change had to wait for one more person. Anything cool happen at school today?”

Calum leaves then, though he can catch the small boy gush about the races he won at recess. It’s probably crazy of him to try and find some sort of way to come back here again soon, but Calum’s already trying to put together an excuse.

When Calum heads back to the front with the group, laughing at Michael’s utter disgust at the way the last few throws went, he does look for Freya. A girl with red hair is sitting at the desk instead. And though a little bit of disappoints settles into his stomach because he wanted to tell her how well her advice worked, he finds himself resolved and it wouldn’t be broken.

******

Calum told himself whatever Freya had to say during this talk wouldn’t break him. Hell, if he were honest, he didn’t think it would go like this. “You know, I used to say I was no good for people all the time,” Calum laughs. He sniffs hard and wipes his noses on the back of his nose. “It was a clean get-away line.”

“I’m not giving you a get-away line. I’m giving you the truth,” Freya returns.

“No, I’m-I’m not saying you’re giving me bullshit. You’re setting a boundary and a good one at that. I respect it. I’m just saying the irony. The same thing I used to tell others is coming back my way.”

“Karma’s a bitch.”

“I don’t regret it.” Calum shakes his head, not because he’s lying. But to emphasize his point.

*****

Calum doesn’t regret going to the Yelp, Facebook, or Instagram page of the business to see if she had liked it or appeared anywhere on their social media. And luck would have it, he manages to find her. The owners like to show off their employees. Their preferred form of employee appreciation appears, in Calum’s investigation, to be a quick bio of new employees along with a video of them throwing. He nearly misses Freya’s post because of his quick scrolls. The bottom of the page comes up quicker than the app could handle and just as the new page loads that he notices it. The thick twists and black lipstick sitting on her cool dark brown skin.

He doesn’t regret it when he followed the account that was tagged, or the message he sent her from his finsta, or the messages they exchanged for a few days. And he for damn sure can’t find himself to regret it when he came back to the place a couple of weeks later to see if Freya was working.

There’s no regret when she smiles at him and laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to test your theory yet again. It worked last time. But I want to make sure that it wasn’t beginner’s luck.”

“You doubt me. You dare doubt me? I’m offended.”

Calum laughs briefly as he leans into the counter of the front desk. “It’s more like I’m testing a theory. Making sure the results can be recreated.”

“Oh, I promise you my results are valid.” She reaches out for his ID and every so gently their fingers brush. Calum can’t tell if that’s intentional or not, but it doesn’t the slight shiver that runs down his spine. “So just you today, huh?” Freya continues on, grabbing a clipboard, some forms, and a pen.

“Just me.”

“Rest of your friends scared.” Her gaze falls to the stack she’s gathering, checking something off on the top page and then sliding the ID back to Calum.

“They’d probably laugh at me if they knew I was here.”

“Laugh at you?”

“Tell me--why do you think I’m here?”

A moment passes between them. Though it takes up more like several seconds, time feels froze as Freya studies his face. Calum wants to reach up and readjust his hat out of a nervous habit. He wants to take it back. But more than anything, he wants to know if he has a shot. If it’s worth really pursuing.

“I think you’re here to test a theory. Maybe, just maybe you’re here because of Vanessa too,” she smiles as it says. Like she knows that isn’t the truth but she doesn’t want to give into Calum.

And while it’s not the answer he was hoping for, Calum takes it. She wants to play a game and he can be down for that.

*****

She wants to reach out for his hands. They sit next to each other in the lounge chairs Calum keeps lined around his pool. But Freya thinks twice about it. The bulbs dangle above them casting an amber hue onto the water, a stark contrast to the twilight pressing evening closer to night’s full darkness. Freya does regret it. She regrets not leaving her teasing response just to testing a theory. She knew what Calum was fishing for, what he was hoping to confirm when he came back by himself.

Maybe it was just where she was then. Then she thought she could give more. Now she realizes she can’t. She likes it when she’s dating someone and they can decide on a random Sunday for errand runs. She likes having them around. And not that Calum wouldn’t be around. Tours didn’t happen all the time. But they did run long. And who the hell knows where she’d be in eight months after she graduated. Her life wasn’t stable--she wasn’t tied to the West Coast like Calum was.

Her life was full of variables. Ones that she didn’t really plan on trying to solve until closer to Christmas in the spring right before graduation. And she didn’t want to give Calum any more false hope. It wasn’t set in stone that she’d be staying in LA and it wasn’t set in stone that she could handle the long departures. Calum deserved someone that was more sure of themselves.

“I think having regrets is no good anyway,” Freya says, finally breaking the long silence between them. “Having them doesn’t change what happened anyway.” But that doesn’t change the fact that you still regret this, Freya thinks to herself.

“I used to believe love could overcome any obstacle.”

Freya turns to look to Calum and catches thhe way the stubble on his chin from the few weeks he’s gone without shaving halos just a little in the lights. “Used to? The right person, the right love--”

Calum shakes his head. “Now I think people loving me means that they love themselves and they can tell me what they want or need. No guessing. No games.”

“Still sounds a lot of a hell lot like overcoming obstacles.”

“But it’s not a dream. It’s tangible. It’s not me daydreaming up in the clouds. It’s me--right here. Right now. Knowing seeing what it means more than anything else that all the shit I was thinking of as a kid really needed just to be put on the ground level for me.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“I mean as much as it fucking sucks that you’re telling me no, I know you’re doing it for the right reasons. I-there’s like this thing with me. I watch people. I don’t walk into a room of strangers and become the center of attention. I don’t like people all that much, but I care. You know? I care about the people I put into my life and I want them to do well and succeed. I want what’s best for them. It’s not always easy to want that, but innately, I do, I think. Deep down I want what’s good for people. And maybe love is doing the hard things, you know.”

He pauses. Freya watches the way he drops his head, fingers threading through the curls. She keeps quiet. There’s something more, something deeper to the words. “And you’re doing the hard thing. Whether it’s for me or not is debatable,” Calum continues. “But I think love is doing the hard things.”

“You said that having some space was important to you. And while I understand that, like you do need to be your own person in a relationship--”

“Your reasons or how you want to justify it to yourself for me isn’t something I need. You already said that you know what you expect and like out a relationship and that the touring would be too hard for you. Set boundaries for you. What good does it do to justify it to me?”

“So you know I’m not being an asshole, Calum. For fuck sake.”

“No, no, I-shit. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant--who are boundaries really for? What do they do?”

“I guess they do protect the person making them. But I’m not trying to be an asshole to you. I swear.”

Calum looks up from the cement of his background lining the pool to the glossy sheen coating Freya’s eyes. They’re black in the settling night. But Calum knows they’re more like a medium brown--dark enough to get lost in them, but when they catch the light just right, they can feel like an enchanting spell sucking him in.

“Freya, you are a sarcastic son of a bitch. But an asshole to those that don’t deserve it, never.”

She sucks on her teeth, swatting at his bicep. “Take that back.”

Calum leans onto his left elbow, closing the gap between them just a little. A smile lifts his lips gently. “Never.”

“We’ve both been burned. Is it bad I didn’t want that again?”

“No. I used to say love is a scam. So I don’t think I’m necessarily the poster boy for relationships.”

“But admit it, you hoped this was the one so you wouldn’t be the odd man out.” His brows furrow at her comment. Freya gives him a soft smile. “Two of the guys are engaged. But all three of them are in a relationship.”

He sighs, gazing dropping from her face. “Maybe I was hoping so. Is it bad of me to want to be in love?”

“No. I told some kids that my boyfriend was Shermar Moore,” Freya admits with a laugh. “I was working at a summer camp and one girl saw his picture on my phone. It was my lockscreen for the longest time. So I just went with it. Well, I was spurred in part because of Drew who was a fucking creep and wouldn’t leave me alone. But I did fantasize about it. Dream of being in love with some famous and the limelight. Shit at that point, I hadn’t even dated anyone either. So another part of it was a desire too.”

“Is that part of it too? Worried about what trolls and whatever will say?”

“Oh, no one who doesn’t know shit about it can make me get outside myself.” Freya laughs but reclines into the cushions of the chair. “But maybe it’s a little bit of it. That’s too many voices talking all about you. It’s a lot of noise and some of it has to bleed through you know. Even if you’re careful and you work not to take it in, some does, right?”

“I don’t think humans were created to be able to handle that much criticism or even love and adoration. Our brains can’t handle it. So yeah, a little bit seeps in. But you keep that door closed as much as you can. You talk to people that also get it. Fuck, you even get a therapist.”

“Or a dog,” Freya says before turning her head to watch Duke laying inside next to the back door.

“And a dog,” Calum corrects.

“Excuse me, you get a therapist and a dog.”

“Tell me something.”

“I’m listening,” Freya returns, looking back to Calum.

“Before you go tonight, tell me the thing you’re going to cherish between us.”

“Will you do the same?” Calum nods at the question but doesn’t respond verbally as he gazes at her.

“Do you want to answer now?”

“Are you leaving now?”

“I-I didn’t think you wanted me to stay.”

“I want you to stay as long as you feel comfortable. And then when you leave, the parting thing we have is the good, the best of us.”

“What if I stay until dawn?”

“Then you stay until dawn. Though, I think it’s safe to say both of us will pass out by 3 AM.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I think I’ve ever done,” Freya laughs. Remembering the same she spent a Friday night after a shift at Calum’s place. He had a birthday party on Saturday along with a vet appointment with Duke. And then Sunday, Freya had we weekly lunch with her friends that she couldn’t miss. So Calum asked her if she wanted dinner Friday night at his place. Which she said yes to, but then it turned into them doing a movie marathon. Which then turned into Calum betting her that he could stay up longer than her. But they ultimately passed out around 3 in the morning on Calum’s couch.

“Thankfully, I did not miss Duke’s vet appointment that time,” Calum tacks on.

“Yeah, no thanks to me waking you up half an hour before it.”

“That darlin’ is what I call details.”

“No, I call that a very important fact,” Freya defends sitting up. “Duke would’ve been late twice if not for me.”

Calum giggles at her incredulous look. She always got heated fast, though she knew when it was serious things and when it wasn’t. “It wasn’t him paying for the visit.”

“So you ought to kiss the ground I’m standing on right now because you didn’t have to pay anything like a cancellation fee.”

“You’re not standing on any ground right-” the sentence doesn’t get the wind to complete itself when Calum watches her stand up. “Or maybe you are standing up.”

Freya hears him, but she gazes up to the sky. Trying to look past the twinkle of his backyard lights. There’s not much to see due to the light pollution. But the sounds capture her attention next. His neighborhood’s almost been mostly quiet. But with the twinge of the summer’s heat fading, Freya can hear the last bit of people outside. A dog barks into the night and there’s the crunch only tires on gravel and asphalt can give. There’s a hum in the night that Freya can feel in her bones.

It’s hard not to fall in love with the sounds of the night. It’s hard not to romanticize this, how possibly if things were different she could find herself at some point always standing in the middle of this backyard listening to the sounds of the night, having Calum beside her or maybe Duke when he’s gone and just letting herself go to the buzz. In all honesty, Freya craved stability. Always having something to come back was her dream. But in that dream it was a partner who would be there for every dinner. A shared space that was full with both of their presences.

“When you think about coming home what’s there?” Freya asks. “Like, in ten years, what’s in your home when you walk inside?”

Calum closes his eyes, bringing the picture to his mind’s eye. “Like, the truth of what I see?”

“The truth,” Freya confirms.

“Two kids, a dog for sure. Maybe two. A wife. A lot of laughs. Being knocked over with hugs. Maybe a movie that hasn’t quite been paused catches my ears. Maybe it’s summer and my mum’s over too. Because she wants to be around the kids as much as possible. And my sister--she comes over when she can too. So we have to figure out what to cook because it’s a family dinner night. I’m mostly likely in Australia. But I could be somewhere else. Just not LA. I don’t think I could have kids here.”

“That sounds lovely, Calum.”

“But I am scared. My parents divorced. What if it doesn’t work out?”

“That wasn’t your fault. And if we heal from our trauma before having kids then maybe some of our fears won’t come to reality.”

“And if it does.”

“Then we know the boogeyman is real and sometimes we can do our best but things that are meant to happen will still happen.”

“Your parents are divorced too, right?” Calum remembers her mentioning a distinction between her mother’s house and her father’s house. But she hadn’t outright stated that her parents were divorced, just alluded to it.

“Yeah. My dad remarried. He seems happy.”

“What about you? If you closed your eyes and thought about yourself in 10 years, where are you?”

“I technically asked what do you see in your home when you walk inside 10 years from now.”

“Oh, come off it,” Calum laughs, throwing a dismissive wave her way.

“But,” she giggles and then closes her eyes. The breeze blows across her face and she lifts her chin up to catch as much of it as she can. Then she speaks, “I don’t know. Home’s full of the people I love. And I feel stable. I’m not worried about what I’m going to do weeks from now when something inevitably has to change. Because nothing’s going to change. Or at least, I’m not anticipating change. I think that’s what I’m sick of. I’m sick of dealing with change and constantly moving around and not knowing what the next year is going to look like. I’m tired of looking over my shoulder and planning. I just want to be still.”

“You did the whole back and forth between houses, huh?”

“Yeah. I always felt like I was playing two versions of myself when I was younger. I had to be one way around my mother and one way around my father and according to my therapist, the constant games of charade fucked me up a little.”

“How often did you go between their houses?”

“Every weekend.”

Calum sucks in air through his teeth, “Yikes. Yeah, no wonder you want stability.”

“Oh, thank you Dr. Hood. Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Well this is a question so it’s not something you don’t know, but is the thought of me being gone for months at a time remind you of that? Like, you’d have to be one way while I was here and then another way when I was gone?”

Freya shrugs. But it’s right on the nose. “I’d have to learn to be with you and then be without you. And all I have are switches. No dimmers. I’m either on or I’m off. And I-I’m working on it. But I’ve got a long way to go.”

Calum scoffs, whispering mostly to himself. “All I have are switches. No dimmers.” It’s not a taunt to her. It’s not him blowing her concern off. It’s recognition that colors his tone. It’s the sigh when hearing something that connects so deeply it takes all the oxygen from lungs with it.

“And I swear to Christ, Calum, if you make a Lowe’s or Home Depot joke, I will extract your ankles from you right here right now.”

“Extract? What the hell?” Calum laughs.

“Broken ankles heal,” Freya returns with a smirk. Her face is lit mostly from above due to continued standing position but Calum catches the way her lips move.

“Remind me to really never piss you off. Between your ability to throw axes and the time you told me about putting ham on a girl’s car, I don’t think I want that kind of trouble in my life.”

“I only put the ham on the car because my friend was heartbroken and she was a cunt for cheating.”

“Yeah, see that’s what I mean,” Calum points out, his index finger swirling in a circle in front of her.

“I could’ve slashed her tires too.”

“I think ruining her paint job was more than enough.”

Freya places her hands on her hips, looking down at Calum. “I’ve got some anger issues too. Did I mention that?”

They laugh but Calum recovers first to speak. “I hadn’t noticed it before. Thank you for telling me that. But in all seriousness, Freya, the boundaries you have make sense. I hope you continue with therapy as well,” he states with a giggle. “But it’s not easy to look back at yourself and realize ‘Oh shit, maybe I don’t want that thing again because that actually fucking hurt’. And do something about it. That takes a lot of strength.”

“Thanks, Calum. And I will continue with this therapist for the rest of the school year because it’s free. Shoutout to some universities for having really accessible mental health resources.”

Freya finally sits, facing Calum. He keeps his gaze averted. But it doesn’t bother her. “What’s the intention behind telling me I can stay as long as I want? Is it to get me to change my mind? Just earlier both of us were near tears and now we’re walking down memory lane. Sharing things we hadn’t shared yet.”

“I want as much of you as I can get before you’re gone. Selfish, right?” The tears are back, she can hear them in his voice.

“No. A bit of your masochism showing, certainly.”

“You ever know something’s bad for you, but you want it anyway? You want the pain anyway?”

“I mean considering both of us are littered tattoos, pain’s not something we’re too worried about.”

Calum wishes he didn’t laugh, not even the short burst of laughter. “Someone’s coping with humor.”

“Someone’s self flagellating.”

“Can I be honest?”

“Of course.”

“I don’t want you to go. But I don’t want you to hurt yourself either.”

“Maybe love is doing the hard things. You said that yourself.”

Calum swallows hard and his voice only comes out in a whisper. “I know I did.”

Freya blinks away the blur of tears. But as soon as they clear, more replace them. Her voice is tight as she speaks. “Doing the hard things suck though. Don’t think this is easy.”

“It’s because it’s the hard thing,” Calum returns. He wants to smile and manages to get a small one but he knows. Freya’s going to leave. She won’t stay.

“My favorite thing,” she starts and Calum exhales hard. There it is--the confirmation. The sentence gets caught in her throat so she pauses to clear it, work the tears down to at least speak. God, why couldn’t it have been easy. “My favorite thing between us, about us, whatever you want to label it as, is that we could also be honest. And even if it was burning waffles or ducking paps to watch a movie for an anime that you had no idea anything about because I wanted to go desperately and you had to Google a summary during the previews, we were always honest with each other.”

“I want to put it out there that you only told me that it was for an anime as I was buying the tickets. So I had zero time to prepare beforehand.”

“I told you the name of it the Monday before we saw it.”

“And admittedly, I forget it the second after you said it.”

“Fair enough, Calum. Fair enough.”

Calum spins in the chair and takes her hand. The first time they’ve touched today. Normally, Freya was more than happy to give out hugs but when Calum opened the front door, she have a half smile and stepped inside. If he could go back to earlier, he’d tell himself that was the first sign.

His thumb passes gently over the butterfly on her left hand. “The thing I’m going to cherish is that you made me feel sixteen again. My entire life changed at sixteen and I felt pretty invincible. I was also scared and excited. I was going to be in a band, like a one with lots of records and I don’t know--I only had that dream to believe in because I damn sure did not have a back up. It was before the downs. And I don’t regret the hard times either. But you’re the first person in a long time that gave me those butterflies. Assumed I was just never going to feel them again and I wasn’t a good person before, not as good as I could’ve been. But you gave me something to be good for again. Getting your text made my whole fucking day. And you-god, you cared about so many things. I bought books you recommended and couldn’t wait to talk about them with you. I remembered the kind of person I want to be. So thank you. For making me feel sixteen again in the cheesiest way possible but also in the best way possible too. That things are worth giving a shit for and that we can let people in and it won’t always burn.”

“Just a little sting.”

Calum nods. “Just a little sting.”

Freya brings his hands to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to the right one. Her sniffle is loud amongst the hum of the night. “If it weren’t for the fact that my eyeliner is tattooed to my face it would probably be running. I’m sorry it has to hurt at all. But-but I’m hopeful.”

“Hopeful?”

“Hopeful that we’ll get what we need out of life.”

He nods again, watching the tears track down her cheek. “We will.”

Her hands gently slip back out of his grasp and she uses the back of her wrist to press under her nose. The tremors shake her hands, so she shakes them before standing. Calum cranes his neck up, words about to fall from his lips. But she cups his cheek and smiles at him. “Don’t. There’s nothing else to say.”

It happens just as he blinks. He sighs, eyes closing to steel himself. Because there’s always so much else to say. And then her lips are pressing to his forehead. It last long enough for Calum to take hold of her thighs instinctively want to pull her in closer to him.

Then she’s gone. His hand slides down the rough denim and Freya’s walking to the edge of the backdoor. Duke picks up his head but doesn’t move much else. “Oh yeah, you don’t need to move. You know everyone comes to you, huh?” She gives him a few pats and scratches. “I’ll send you something for your adoption day, okay, love? And you might hate wearing it or you might love eating it. But be on the lookout for the mailman. He’ll have something from me.”

Calum doesn’t say anything as she says her goodbyes to Duke. She kisses the top of his head too and he thinks she might’ve whispered something else but he’s not certain from his spot on the chair. The swish of the tassels on Freya’s jeans signal her and the click of her heeled boots tell Calum she’s walking farther from him. The latch in the fence clicks and the wood around the hinges creak as she presses into the door. There’s a soft thud as the door shuts and then Calum can’t hear anything over the cough he uses to try and cover the tightness in his chest, can’t see anything in the blurry vision of his tears

She’s just gone.

******

When the front door bell sounds, Calum doesn’t think much of it. It could be a package or someone selling something. So he pushes up from the kitchen table and heads to the door. There on his porch is a light blue box with white bones on it. The subscription box that Calum gets already came. But then he notices an index card with a handwritten address on it. He picks it up. Right there in the return address is Freya’s name. He sucks in a breath and then looks to see who it’s addressed to: Duke Hood + Calum.

“Duke,” Calum calls out, stepping back inside to the house. He closes the door with his foot. The click of paws let him know the old man’s heard his call. “A little early birthday present has arrived just for you.”

He walks deeper into the living room and sets the box on the coffee table. Inside holds an olive green harness, treats, and a card. Calum laughs as Duke presses his snout against the bag of treats. “Alright, alright. I get it.”

Duke happily munches on one of the chews from the bag and Calum opens the card. A different letter slips out into his lap. He can see the ink and lettering pressing through to the other side. His heart hammers, but he forces himself to turn back to the card. “Dear Duke,” Calum pauses to see if Duke responds but his investigation continues on the treat. “I mean, fair enough.” Calum continues to read the card written by Freya, “Even though only the universe knows your true birthday, this card, harness, and bag of treats is meant to mark you sticking it out with your pops for yet another year. To spare you the grumps about a very cute hawaiin shirt I, instead, got a badass harness. Now you’ll be the coolest guy on the block. Happy Birthday/Adoption Day. With Love, Fre.”

Duke, done with the treat, looks to Calum and settles next in front of his folded legs. “Oh, so much work eating a treat.”

But Calum reaches down to gently pats at his tummy. The front of the car is cute, Calum finally recognizes. A cartoon white dog is drawn on it with large pink glasses against a yellow background. There’s no telling where she found it at. Calum looks down to the handwritten letter on printer paper. What would Freya possibly have to say?

Calum hadn’t had the guts to press send on any of the texts he drafted in the three months since they last talked. He wasn’t sure if he could. He is sure that if Freya hadn’t wanted anything to do with him, she would’ve said so, and she wouln’t have sent this box for Duke. His fingers tremble as he unfolds the letter.

Calum,

I figured you heard me tell Duke he was going to get a gift. And I knew I couldn’t not deliver on my promise to him. But I do apologize if it crosses any line. Please let me know too--if it crossed any boundaries.

I hope you’re well. Congrats on the latest album too.

With Love,

Freya.

P.S. I saw you a couple times drafting a text to me but never seeing one go through. And if you’re asking why I hadn’t sent a text either, know it was fear too. And me not being sure if keeping it open like that between us would only do more harm than good. So I’m sorry. But I am here, in the sense that to the best of my capacities, I can try to be here.

*****

Her bag’s slipping off her shoulders but she finally gets the key into the lock and gets her front door open. She sighs as she falls into the ugly blue apartment door and all but flings herself into her place. The stack of mail in her hands barely makes it to the edge of the kitchen counter too. It was just one of those days and Freya couldn’t be mad at herself. Everyone had days like this.

Putting her keys up and getting her backpack next to the couch, she settles into the stools at the kitchen counter to sort through the mail. One’s a bill from the dentist she visited a few weeks back. The one thing her student health insurance didn’t cover. But she couldn’t complain.

There are few junk flyers that she immediately tosses. And it’s her name scrawled in a almost all caps that catches her eyes before she even gets finished with the rest of the pile. In the top corner for the return address she catches the name: Calum Hood + Duke

“Mail from Duke, what a surprise.”

But the real surprise is Calum’s name. It’s just a plain white envelope with a stamp and the city mark it was mailed from. Freya pops it open and sees a sheet of legal pad paper folded up.

Freya,

Thank you for Duke’s gift. The chews are a hit. The harness is much appreciated for our walks. Though, I think they’re more like walks for me. And Duke gets a little exercise in before he tuckers out. But I don’t fault him. No lines were crossed. So no need to worry about that.

I think I like the idea of mailing letters more than I do like texting. But I understand. Doing the hard thing sucks. It always has and always will. Do what you need to for yourself.

Thank you. I wouldn’t normally do this. But there’s a couple songs--they’re about you. I wanted to give you a warning before you listen to it. If you listen to it, I guess I should say.

Best of luck with your last year of school. You’ll have that Master’s in no time and then maybe soon you can take over the Library of Congress like all your evil plans have laid out. (I know, I know. Not what your Library Studies degree does. But I still think you should.)

With Love,

Cal

Freya chuckles at the Library of Congress comment. She picks up her phone and finds Calum’s thread. It’s easy to want to tell him that she can’t take over the Library of Congress and that she’s glad the treats went over well and that the harness was really more of an accessory to make sure Duke looks like a badass.

But she knows--she knows the ease got her into a pickle before. It’s why she stopped things before they got more serious. But was fear going to always predict what she was going to do in her life? Maybe the ease of things was a sign to continue. But if what if things got too far? WOuld be able to handle Calum being gone? Would she inevitably get her heart broken? And sure no amount of contemplation can predict things like this, but she did want to play with that risk no matter how fucking easy it was in the moment.

With a frustrated sigh, Freya drops her face into the forearms. Her phone is still in her grip with the movement. “It’s never fucking easy is it!” she shouts into her apartment.

There’s silence that engulfs her but it gives no response.