#i just thought for several hours on the exact depth of bothering

[saltysatellite804]

Final post on the matter and I'll shut up.

Let's be entirely honest, if it had been any other character getting a massive personality change, everyone would be rioting. Imagine if Grimmjow had shown up depressed af and turned into a punching bag. People would be so fucking mad. But no one gives a fuck about Aizen as a character so I'm pretty done with this. Even if there is a canon reason and hes uber depressed, no one cares about that and the story won't at all give any payoff for it, any redemption, any exploration. If anything, I'm starting to anticipate he will be killed off in the future, maybe Hellarc. I don't really want any part of it, so I'm bugging out and taking a huge step back for my own sake.

Canon is now officially dead to me in every way.

[callsignfate]

Personal Exile Pt. 3

(No note here today, if you're wondering why posts have been slower check out 'Ack - long authors note' Tw: talk of murder and death, you are ex military, fem reader, tension.)

Part One/ Part Two/ Part Three/ Part Four/

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Endless tasks and countless sleepless nights defined your life under Valeria's command. You had come to know her as the tireless leader who seemed to work without rest. Her office was a constant scene of focused activity, her desk serving as her unyielding command center.

Having worked under Valeria for several months, you knew that your personal debt to her had been repaid in full. The men you had once injured had not only recovered but had seamlessly reintegrated into their roles. Although they still harbored reservations about you, you had little interest in winning their favor.

Your responsibilities often involved safeguarding Valeria's men or her valuable products. Officially, you were a member of the Las Almas cartel, but mentally, you refused to acknowledge the depths to which you had descended from your previous military life.

The financial reward was substantial, affording you a life of comfort and luxury wherever you chose to reside in Las Almas. Valeria's treatment of you had improved over time, frequently giving you the flexibility to accept or decline assignments she deemed you trustworthy enough to handle. The hours were unconventional, with Valeria moving at her discretion, whether in the glaring daylight or the shadowy hours of night.

Valeria was a formidable leader who ran a tight ship with minimal room for error. She possessed an uncanny ability to understand the strengths and weaknesses of her men, including yourself. Your sharp tongue and defiant attitude had grown on her, and she recognized your deadly capabilities, evident in her eyes each time you reported a successful mission. She knew she was fortunate to have someone molded and trained to fit her exact needs.

In time, your loyalty had solidified, allowing you to ascend within her inner circle, participating in endless meetings to plan the next move. Valeria's role was to issue orders, seldom involving herself in operations beyond the occasional check-in to ensure things were progressing smoothly.

Returning from yet another uneventful mission, you entered her office without bothering to knock, a practice you had abandoned long ago, and Valeria didn't seem to mind. She remained absorbed in her paperwork as you entered.

"Successful, I already know," she muttered, before sighing and sitting up in her chair, flashing her signature smile.

"Why do I even report to you if you already know?" you countered with playful annoyance, though a scowl crept across your face.

"If you didn't, I'd rarely see you. It's harder to ensure you're not lying or injured," her tone matched the small glare she directed your way.

"Awe, you care if I'm injured? The cartel leader has a heart?" you quipped, scoffing as you casually glanced over the piles of papers on her desk before meeting her gaze with a smirk.

"You can't do what I need you to if you're injured, and I know you'd hide it or lie about it," she returned with a casual shrug before returning her attention to her work.

"Always working. Does El Sin Nombre ever take a break? Or sleep, even?" you inquired, observing her as she continued to write with precision.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead," she muttered after finishing her writing, shooting you a playful glare while stifling a snicker. "You're just going to stand there and watch me work?"

"Isn't that what you do to me? It's almost a nice change of pace, if only your work wasn't so boring," you retorted with an eye roll.

"I'm sorry my work isn't entertaining. I'm not here to amuse you," she replied, her annoyance showing through her slightly furrowed brows.

"Are you not? I thought that was the entire point of me being here—to entertain you," you quipped sarcastically, with a dry laugh.

"Go do whatever you normally do," she dismissed you with a passive wave, her attention returning to her papers.

"I'm not tired," you countered casually. "I'd usually sleep or find something else to do."

"So you decided this time to stand in my office and annoy me?" she muttered something in Spanish, her tone more amused than irritated. You had learned to recognize when she was done with someone, having seen her chew people up and spit them out over the past few months.

"Well, I would sit, but standing gives me an edge so I can run if you get truly annoyed," you joked.

She snapped back at you in Spanish, her words not fully understood by you, though her tone conveyed playful irritation and rested on her face as a hint of annoyance.

"If I understood what you had said, I might have cared, but I didn't, so I don't."

"You should learn Spanish. More people would like you then."

"I don't need to be liked. It's not my job to care what your little pawns think of me. They can say whatever they want; I have no interest in their opinions."

"Oh, don't worry, they like you. They find our conversations interesting to listen to. They find you beautiful, yet dangerous, like a snake ready to strike at any moment. They watch you in awe when you speak back to me, as a child would to her mother when she doesn't get what she wants."

"I only do it to spite you," you said with a cocky tone and a smirk.

"I'm well aware of that," she replied, her dominant smile and confident tone unwavering.

"Are you? Yet you say nothing about it?" you teased, almost certain of her response.

"I find it refreshing to be spoken back to," she admitted, shrugging and playfully narrowing her eyes at you.

"Only by me?" you inquired, mimicking her tone.

"Don't feel special," she retorted, maintaining her playful yet cocky demeanor.

"Oh, I don't. Speaking to you is like speaking to the most irritatingly cocky and dominant woman I've ever met," you playfully said.

"Thank you," she responded with a small, arrogant chuckle and a smile.

"Glad you knew that was a compliment."

"No compliments back?" you asked, teasing her again as you folded your arms over your chest.

"You get the compliment of being near me, working for me, and me dealing with your mouth every day," she replied, moving a few papers out of her way.

"Is that so?" you countered once more, your defiant tone and bratty attitude firmly in place.

"It is," she confirmed, picking up a small stack of papers and organizing them before placing them into a file folder.

"Interesting. I'd tell you to find a way to shut me up, but we both know it would be short-lived," you remarked.

She hummed in response, playing with the pen in her hands as she leaned back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other. She appeared amused by your banter, her phone ringing to break the moment, causing her smile to fade as she waved you away with a more serious expression.

Exiting Valeria's office, you slipped away swiftly and without a word. Her demeanor had shifted dramatically, and you recognized that look well. It was a face of unadulterated power and dominance, a stark reminder of her position as the leader of the Las Almas cartel.

You had learned that when Valeria's expression turned serious and her eyes hardened, it was best to make yourself scarce. Whoever was on the other end of that phone call had clearly stirred her displeasure, and you had no desire to be present when her authority was asserted in its full force.

As you moved through the dimly lit corridors of the compound, you couldn't help but wonder about the nature of the call and the actions that would inevitably follow. In a world where power was the ultimate currency, you had become accustomed to witnessing the ruthless decisions that defined Valeria's leadership. For now, though, you would continue with your own tasks, leaving her to navigate the intricate web of alliances and conflicts that surrounded her cartel.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

[exovapor]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

[ceilingfan5]

Elves don’t care much for birthdays. Special anniversaries, sometimes, like growth checkpoints and exciting life events, like getting an adult name or choosing a path in life or entering into a marital union. Those things are celebrated, often with the lavish candor elves are known to fling about with anything. Rich elves, they sometimes celebrate birthdays, for lack of anything better to do or celebrate. An excuse, multiple times a year, to feast and earn gifts and adulation? It would be impossible to say no. But poor elves, elves with no families, elves like Lup and Taako? They only remembered their birthdays out of absolute spite. 

Rather, they remembered each other’s birthdays. 

We only make it special, for Lup’s birthday, Taako said once, and at the time it rolled right off his companions. A throwaway line for the seemingly endless cycle of eternity, with far more critical facts to focus on. Liches aren’t made every revolution of the sun. But when Taako’s story was projected across time and plane and space, when everyone got to intimately know the seven birds and their amazing tale, some facts stood out more to different people. That one always rankled Kravitz. 

They were twins, was the problem. They had the same birthday. Kravitz looked it up, to make sure it wasn’t a weird elf thing--with lifespans so long, maybe a few weeks apart was nothing, was just like human twins being born minutes apart--but no, they were twins in the common sense of the word, exact date and all. (Taako said it didn’t matter who was born first. Lup was older.)  They really did have the same birthday. Taako only cared about Lup’s. It was a sad glance into the depth of his true character, especially as such an offhand thought, but it really rubbed Kravitz the wrong way. 

There was some irony in the fact that Kravitz didn’t celebrate his own birthday, and hadn’t in centuries, but this wasn’t about him. Taako deserved to be celebrated, especially in a way that he didn’t have to “earn” or plan and execute himself. Kravitz really did want to celebrate him, ply him with gifts, sing and laugh and eat a special dinner with a special dessert. 

Problem was, this one landed on a school day. 

Taako had mixed feelings about his school. Sometimes he was heavily invested, there every day, involved from top to bottom, and sometimes he was satisfied to let Ren take the wheel and pop in for cameos when the celebrity circuit got a little boring. But at this time of year, Taako was actually in the classroom, and he cared about his students, whether or not he’d admit it. It was hard to get him to step away, and as easy as it would be just to surprise him with dinner after work, Kravitz wanted to make his whole day special. 

He gets Taako’s favorite sandwich and a little piece of cake and Kravitz has the secretary take him in to Taako’s office, where he almost doesn’t look up when Kravitz comes in. 

“Beloved,” Kravitz says, with at least a little bit of drama. “Happy birthday.”

Taako does look up at that. His eyes are tired, and it takes a moment for him to process what Kravitz said. 

“Is it my birthday?” he asks quietly, and Kravitz’s heart shatters like he’d spiked it into the ground. “Oh love,” Kravitz says. “It is. I came to celebrate with you.” 

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I certainly did, and now that you’ve said that, I’m going to celebrate you even more!” Kravitz pulls out the sandwiches and the cake and clears off a spot on Taako’s messy desk, setting several piles of paper on a nearby chair.

“I don’t have a long time until my next class.”

“Better stuff your face then!” Kravitz plops into the seat across from him and grins. “I got your favorite.”

Taako’s expression begins to warm up. 

“Of course you did, you big goober. I can’t believe you- you looked up my birthday?”

“It was in your death criminal records.” Kravitz unwraps Taakos sandwich for him and holds it out until Taako takes it. Taako looks at him, and looks at the sandwich, and he finally smiles and shakes his head a little. He grabs the sandwich and takes a big bite, and then just to be weird and a little spiteful, he licks the mustard off Kravitz’s fingers. Kravitz laughs. 

“I think that’s a breach of privacy, isn’t it?”

“Well, when my own husband wouldn’t tell me his birthday--”

“Hey!”

“I had to get a leeetle sneaky.” Kravitz unwraps his own sandwich and smiles. “I know you don’t celebrate much, and I’m sure it’s weird, you know, under the circumstances,” read, everything that’s happened over the last decade and a half, let alone Lup being away on reaper business today, “But you deserve to be celebrated, even if it’s something small.” 

“Fuck yeah I do,” Taako says through a mouthful of sandwich. “Gods, this is fucking good. Damn it, I love you.”

“I love you too, Taako,” Kravitz says, so warm and fond he has to clear his throat not to choke up. “And maybe if it bothers you, we can go light with the celebrations. I’ll return the presents-”

“Presents?” Taako’s eyes widen. “You will absolutely not, those are mine. It’s my birthday.”

“That’s more like it.” Kravitz laughs. “So you’d better come home at a reasonable hour, or I’ll unwrap them myself.”

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would too. You’ve been leaving me alone far too much lately. I understand how important your school is to you, but I also like to party-” 

“I will throw this sandwich at you.”

“You won’t,” Kravitz winks. “Your secretary told me you would have forgotten to eat if I didn’t bring you food.”

“That snitch. Fine. I’ll come home early and I guessss I’ll let you spoil me a little bit.”

“Perfect. I’ll make sure the clowns are there on time.” Kravitz hops up and heads for the door. “Kravitz! Clowns?? You’d better be joking! KRAVITZ!”

[misiwrites]

Beyblade Week Day 1

joining @beybladeweek2021 late but i’ll probably be doing these belatedly all may so, whatever! it is what it is.

i’ve never participated in a fandom challenge with writing before, but i was feeling adventurous this time and the seasonal themes were just perfect for the 4kingdoms AU-verse (which is this), i haven’t been writing much anything in so long that i’m mega rusty and thought i could use the bey week to do some warm-up oneshots. these aren’t going to be particularly interesting because i’m really bad at doing oneshots actually, but i like the idea myself and. that’s the only thing that really matters. right. (i’m not even sure if AUs are allowed for the beyblade week?? but the rules didn’t say anything about it so /shrug)

the day 1 oneshot is a little story from takao’s childhood about how he first met kyouju. this was inspired by my own childhood memories as the youngest sibling when i just wanted to hang out around my big sisters because i thought everything they were doing was Cool Big Sister Stuff.

~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~

Firsts / Childhood / Spring

”Takao! I’m trying to read this! Leave me alone already, will you?”

A groan of disappointment. Reluctantly, Takao backs away from his older brother by the desk, shooting him a frown of judgment and betrayal. Now, a quick change of tactics: he figures that, just maybe, Hitoshi allows him to stay in the room if he zips his lips to his best ability.

Wrong. Two silent minutes pass in the small study room until Hitoshi bellows at his brother again, swinging an arm in the door’s direction.

“I’m serious, you can’t keep doing this when I’m trying to do my homework!”

“I’ll just watch and keep quiet, I promise,” Takao insists, giving his brother his best puppy eyes.

“I can’t focus if you’re standing there! Now get out!”

Takao’s frown deepens; with heavy feet and a heavy heart, he trudges toward the sliding door. He doesn’t like this recent change in his brother, all this emphasis on what Hitoshi refers to as “important stuff”. Just because he’s now seventeen. Acting all high and mighty, pretending to be so adult and so important, too adult and too important to play with his younger sibling.

“It’s a very important time for your brother,” their grandfather responded to Takao’s fraternal laments once. “In one year, he will officially inherit the crown of the Seiryuu-ou. There’s much for him to do to grow into the role of the king before his coronation.”

Important this, important that. What about having fun, wasn’t fun important at all? And fencing – surely instructing Takao with the basics of fencing has to be important? Hitoshi’s fencing skills are second to only their grandfather’s, and Takao cannot imagine – doesn’t want to imagine – anyone else teaching him the art of the bamboo sword. And now Hitoshi is “too busy” to teach him, all of a sudden.

“But I’m boooored,” Takao whines from the doors, balancing his weight on his heels back and forth.

“How about you go study something too for once? You really should be reading a lot more than you do, you know. I don’t want my little brother to end up being a dumb prince who doesn’t know anything about the way the world works.”

Takao’s nose wrinkles in disapproval. The word “study” smells like old paper and dust and boredom.

“It’s the Sowmoon holiday now! And what the hell would I study?” he barks.

“Don’t cuss. Anything – whatever interests you. How about the history of the city?”

“Bahhhh.”

“The history of fencing, then. I don’t know – go to the library, take a look at the books or whatever, just leave me alone. I don’t have time for this.” Hitoshi lifts the yellowish document in front of his face and disappears behind it. A wall has risen between the two brothers.

* * * * * *

In the country of spring and year-round greenery, it’s difficult to stay sullen under the tranquil blue of the Eastern sky. Moments later Takao is skipping down the road that leads to the town of Tsuno below, his child’s heart already ignited with new-found hope and aspiration, his feelings of frustration shed by the sturdy wooden gates of the Cherrywood Castle and he's moving on, literally.

At first, the idea was dull at best; reading sounds like just about the flattest thing he could be doing on this beautiful Sowmoon day, a warm breeze blowing through his indigo hair as he carefully hops from one cobblestone to the other… but, in the end, it’s the wish to please his brother that has won him over. Now a plan is taking shape in his mind, the idea swelling like a balloon by each step he takes down the road, and soon his head is racing with the ambition of studying as many topics as he can think of; he’s dreaming up scenarios of impressing his brother with all his newly acquired knowledge, his brain buzzing and his proud heart thumping with all the imaginary praise from Hitoshi… and, just maybe, he’ll then agree to do something fun with his cool and smart little brother again.

So caught up in his daydreams, Takao hardly pays attention to all the familiar townspeople greeting him as he passes by their wooden dwellings and shops and stalls, and he prances past several flocks of tourists lingering on the streets of Tsuno, too busy taking pictures of the cherry blossom trees in their rare blue Sowmoon bloom to notice the royal prince walking right past them. Even if they did see him, not many would pay attention to him; people from outside the city would never imagine a member of the royal Seiryuu-ou family strolling around in a simple hakama without making a scene; but in the royal capital of the Country of East, this was a mundane everyday sight, and Takao was a regular guest of the pastry stalls on the main street of Tsuno. The townspeople loved to pamper this bold and friendly little prince, who hadn’t yet been spoiled by the privileges of the royalty.

Takao reaches the tall glass doors of the main library, only to face the reality of the numbers painted on the glass panel. Five minutes to closing time. So caught up in the rollercoaster of his imagination as he left the Cherrywood Castle, checking the opening hours of the library didn’t even pass his mind.

“Oh, hello, Your Highness,” he’s greeted by one of the kimono-clad library workers who spots him. (The surprise is evident; Takao is not a usual guest in the library.) “How wonderful to see you here. Are you looking for something?”

“Well, yeah, for something to read… but it looks like you’re about to close.”

But coincidence is on Takao’s side today, for the clerk tells him that the library is staying open for one extra hour every day this week.

“The reading hall has been reserved by Professor, a local researcher – but I’m positive he won’t be disturbed by Your Highness’s presence.”

“Really? Okay.” Relieved and triumphant, Takao enters the old-fashioned yet admittedly curiosity-inducing depths of the city library.

He quickly comes to the conclusion that he has underestimated the number of books in the world. Expecting there to be one of each subject of his admittedly limited academic imagination, he is instead hit by an entire universe of paper and ink and covers and words. The map of the library layout alone is full of complex characters that Takao hasn’t yet come across in his schooling.

Dammit.

In the end, Takao finds himself pacing back and forth a narrow aisle of local history books, looking for one with a cover that sparks interest. Perhaps he cannot read all the text, but at least he can look at the pictures.

That’s when he notices another person sharing the space with him, at the far end of the hall, where the shelves have been moved to hug the walls to make room for a reading area in the middle and the ceiling seems to climb up impossibly high under the arch of a dome roof. This person is another kid, hardly older than Takao, and he’s not paying the prince any attention in return; the boy is glued to the screen of a laptop computer that sits on a table in front of him along with several books, one of which has been spread open. Every now and then, his fingers dance across the keyboard at a speed that Takao didn’t even know a computer keyboard could be used with; then the boy crouches over to take a quick glance at the open book before turning back to the laptop again.

A curious sight. For a moment, Takao is tempted by the allure of calling out to this strange boy, to ask him why he’s still there after closing hours. He decides against it and swallows his curiosity. If there’s one thing that his older brother has recently taught him, it is to mind his own business and not bother other people hard at work.

* * * * * *

The next day Takao returns to the library, a pile of books in his lap that he leafed through all night last night. Hundreds of pages of buildings so old they probably stayed up in the pictures with willpower alone – so old that Takao half-expected them to crumble and disappear by the turn of a page, leaving empty picture frame squares behind.

He came to the conclusion that Tsuno’s history was perhaps not the subject to start from.

Takao returns the books, decides to try and find something about fencing, a subject he’s already in some way familiar with. (Between the important-looking books, he secretly slips in a story about Southern pirates; this one he’s not going to tell Hitoshi about.)

In the hall with the dome ceiling, the kid with the laptop is by the exact same table again. Only the array of books next to him is a little different… maybe. Takao is nearly seized by his curiosity again, but something about the air around this boy holds the lingering scent of “do not disturb”, so he bites his tongue once more.

* * * * * *

How could even books about fencing slap him in the face with all this wall of text?! The following day Takao once again turns up at the library, to return his previous findings that had only briefly managed to capture his interest with images of old fencing gear that were not only ancient but, as he ultimately decided, very ugly and stupid-looking.

What about archery, the other national sport of the East? Takao finds it boring and repetitive compared to fencing, but since books about fencing turned out to be boring, did it mean that books about the boring sport were, in turn, more interesting? It makes perfect sense, in Takao’s eight-year-old mind.

However, as he makes his way to the library at the cusp of closing hours again, he no longer pays much heed to the books. Instead, his feet take him to the reading hall under the dome right away.

Sure enough, the kid with the big round glasses and a laptop in front of him is there in his usual spot, all alone. And again the boy’s fingers are hammering at the keyboard faster than Takao can form a coherent thought about computers, the strange machinery that originates from the technically advanced Country of West for all he knows.

It’s been three days now, and Takao can no longer hold back his burning curiosity. Eyes on the strange boy, he takes small sideway steps between the bookshelves, inching his way closer and closer, until he reaches the open reading area under the arched skylights above.

“Hey,” Takao says as he enters the boy’s proximity by the table.

The boy doesn’t do as much as raise his eyes from the computer screen.

“Is there something I can do for you?” he asks, still typing away. The tone of his high-pitched voice is just slightly aggravated but his choice of words oozes formality, a strange speech pattern for someone his age. It throws Takao off a little.

“Umm, I’ve seen you here every day this week and was wondering what you’re doing, that’s all. You know the library was already closed, right?”

After saying this, the thought then passes Takao’s mind that perhaps this kid never leaves the library. Perhaps he’s not even aware that he’s in a closed library. What if Takao is talking to a ghost, haunting this remote corner of the library all day and night? Or, maybe, he’s nothing but a product of Takao’s imagination?

The boy’s voice is now so blunt in response that these phantasmagoric thoughts immediately vanish from Takao’s mind.

“Yes, of course I know. The library personnel was very kind to allow me this one working hour without other people disturbing me. So really, I should be asking – what are you doing here?” Now the stranger’s hands finally leave the keyboard and he lifts his eyes to Takao.

A moment of confused silence. Then the boy’s face begins to resemble the colour of a strawberry.

“Oh!” he squeaks and jumps up to his feet, only to bow his head toward the floor. “Oh, Your, uh, Your Highness! I am terribly sorry for being so rude! Oh, goodness me, how could I…!”

“Wow, calm down,” Takao interrupts, startled himself by the suddenness of the boy’s reaction. “And raise your head – I don’t like people bowing at me, it makes me feel weird. More importantly, what you said just now – are you saying you booked this extra hour from the library?”

Hesitantly, the boy straightens his back, which doesn’t increase his height significantly; now that they’re standing next to each other, Takao notices how small the person he’s talking to is, his head barely on level with Takao’s shoulders.

“Yes, Your Highness,” he says. “I wasn’t aware I was sharing it with the royal family, though. How thoughtless of me.”

“No, well, I kinda just walked in on my own, to be fair. So… you’re a researcher?”

“You could say so, I am indeed carrying out some research here. My name is Saien Manabu, but everyone calls me Professor.”

“Oh, wow. What exactly are you researching?”

“Right now I am writing a paper on the goddess cult of the Country of North. I know, it’s not exactly a topic that interests most children, but I find it so terribly fascinating…”

The mention of children – a nod to the fact that this boy, too, is a child just like him – makes Takao immediately feel more at ease. This person, albeit strange and overly formal and clearly too smart for his age, really is just a child after all. This notion alone is enough to make the kind-hearted and fairly simple-minded Takao like this boy more.

“Sure, that sounds cool,” he says with a grin. “Hey – you said you’re Saien, right? Like that ramen shop on the main street?”

“Yes, it is owned by my parents.”

“Well, it’d be real interesting to hear more about your research and all, but I’m kinda hungry, to be honest – the Saien noodles sound awesome just about now. How about we go there and then you tell me more?”

“Hmm. Well, I wasn’t making as much progress today as I wanted, in any case.” The boy, visibly at least a little relieved to get a break from staring at the screen, slams his laptop shut and tucks it under his arm. Then he flashes a friendly smile at Takao. “Very well, Your Highness. But my mother may pass out if I bring a member of the royal family to their shop all of a sudden, so please prepare for that.”

“Bah, just call me Takao, I’m not so into that formal stuff.”

“Alright, and you can call me Professor.”

* * * * * *

Once back in the Cherrywood Castle, Takao told both his brother and grandfather how much he’d learned about the Northern goddess Hiromi of time and space already; and from that day onward, Hitoshi never needed to refer to his younger brother as the dumb prince again, as Takao, who became a frequent visitor of the Saien family ramen shop both inside and outside business hours, never ran out of curious stories to share about all the things he learned from his new friend.

And while the royal Seiryuu-ou family wasn’t to stay together for much longer from the moment of this story, Takao and Professor remained best friends for many years to come.

[yongiefilms]

GONE IN THE MORNING.

pairing: na jaemin x reader

genre: mostly fluff; slight angst; neighbors!au; neighbors to lovers!au

warnings: none really, except for cuteness that makes your heart ache and an up for interpretation ending 

word count: 3.4k (no longer writing 1k fics? who is she?)

summary: wondrous things happen when the sky goes dark. you can meet new people or grow closer to the ones you already know. the night is limitless with no boundaries and it was why it didn’t even cross your mind that you could grow closer to someone in just a few hours. you didn’t think you would open up to a boy several doors down the hall or fall as quick as the night turns to dawn, but life has ways of surprising you and it was something you would be thankful for, even if time was limited.

author’s note: this fic is dedicated to our forever loving and wholesome flirt king, na jaemin. thank you for always managing to make me smile and being the bundle of joy you are. happy (belated) birthday, angel. i love you till the end of time. also huge shout out to my proofreader, my partner in crime, and my renjun enthusiast, nini ( @dvrlingrenjun​ ) for enduring through this with me late at night (again). te amo. without further ado, i hope you enjoy this loves!                           

you liked nights like these the most. it was the calm before the storm. the only occasion when you could just bask in relaxation amongst your ever growing stressful week. between balancing classes and your part time job as well as other creative projects you had going, it had taken a toll on you physically, mentally, and emotionally. however, as much as you despised the unwarranted stress, it kept you busy and on your feet. you never were one to sit still and wait for something to happen. no, you were far from being that person because you just had to go out and make a change. you itched to create, it was instilled in your veins, and that is how you thrived. that is how you survived. albeit you still found something else that gave you just as much contentment, a time of day to help lessen the load.

every friday, or just any day depending on the circumstances, you would get up at the same in the middle of the night. it would be after the clock struck midnight and before the sun woke. those were the nights when you couldn’t sleep, but tossed and turned in your bed, waiting for slumber to take you under. sadly it never did because you were restless from your time consuming schedule and your body resisted the temptation of drowsiness. so it became a routine: you would throw the covers off your body to get out of bed after staring at the ceiling for instants too long. you would grab your phone and earbuds on the bedside table, essential items that you could not forget. then you would always put on the baby blue oversized hoodie that hung over your desk chair while slipping on your same old skool vans on your way towards the door to leave for a secluded place that wasn’t your bedroom. you didn’t have to go far because when you discovered the rooftop of your apartment complex that fateful night, it would soon become your second home, away from prying eyes.

the exact routine you found yourself following this particular friday.

your earbuds were plugged into your phone while your music was put on shuffle. your forearms rested on the brick railing, your chin on your clasped palms. your head was moving to the beat of the music as your eyes rested closed. no disturbance could be felt in that moment, even when you opened your eyes to glimpse at the skyline. the darkness of the city and sky met you. the stars twinkled like tiny specks amongst a greater universe, catching radiance with small movements. the city was still bustling with life too, even in the wee hours. the buildings stood tall and as black as midnight with the window lights going off and on within seconds as people went to the comfort of their beds. everything was sparkling anew and it felt wondrous. 

until a sound was heard, one that was drowned out by the blues ringing in your ears.

the creak of the metal door leading to the rooftop could be heard ever so faintly, disrupting the once quiet aura. walking through the entrance and emerging from the shadows was a figure of a tall boy, his head held high with beverages in his hand and a phone in his back pocket.

“shoot,” he muttered under his breath. the creak sound increased as he was trying to shut the door with his foot rather than his hands that were full with the drinks he was holding.

when the metal door slammed shut and he looked over at where you were, still unknowing to all that was going on, he let out a sigh of relief.

he tiptoed carefully to where you stood, making sure not to make any mere sound for the fear that he would get caught before the surprise. as he was striding over to stand behind you, he couldn’t help but stop to admire your loveliness. half your face was turned away from him, but your side profile was enough to leave him in awe. breathtakingly gorgeous is what you were and even if he saw you plenty of times before in the hall of your apartment floor, he never saw you in such a close proximity before, which is what made everything feel so surreal as if he saw you for the very first time.

although before he himself could feel like a creep for watching someone for what felt like years, he shook his head to get himself together. he was acting like he had a crush, when he should be acting like the confident boy he portrayed himself to be.

so he held his head up higher, relaxed his shoulders, put on his charming grin and strolled over to where you stood detached from the real world. when he reached you, he tapped your shoulder to make his presence known and your reaction was like any other kind of scare.

you jolted suddenly, but didn’t let out a scream. you swiftly pulled your earbuds out and whipped around to face the intruder who startled you.

when your wide eyes locked onto his own deep chocolate ones, you gave a relieved sigh.

“ah it’s just you,” you exclaimed, leaning back on the brick while closing your eyes shut for the merest second.

he chuckled, a teasing grin adorning his face. “yes, just me.”

you rolled your eyes, but didn’t respond to him.

his beam faltered before he cleared his throat and leaned on the railing, with the two bottles in his hand.

“so want some chocolate milk?” he handed one bottle out to you, waiting for a reply

you twisted ever so slightly to study him properly, your eyes furrowed. he could see a hint of annoyance in your gaze, which made him nervous. yet annoyance was far from it.

he stumbled over his words. his confident façade cracked. “i-i mean i s-saw you c-come up here while i was on my way to the small mart around the corner of the complex for a late night snack. i thought why not buy you one because i am always curious as to why you come up here and i see you come up often too.” 

you stared intently at him, making his cheeks flush due to the intensity. it was now his chance to turn away. 

“plus i thought you might want some company…possibly.” he then swung round, his cheeks still warm, but a smile was on his lips.

you let out a small giggle that bubbled up your throat and you immediately coughed to cover up sound. you didn’t want to chortle at his obvious embarrassment. you reached out to take the chocolate milk from his grasp. “i am just messing with you, jaemin. thank you.” you smiled in return. “i don’t mind the company at all.”

the breath he didn’t know he was holding came out, and he positioned his head to look forward at the gleaming lights of seoul. silence engulfed both of you, wrapping you in its embrace. the breeze was felt so prominently in the cool air and it was a quietness that stilled the heart. even so, jaemin had grown to hate the quietude after those moments. he wanted to know more about you if anything, even if he didn’t truly hate the soundlessness or your presence. he was simply drawn into the mysterious aura that surrounded you. he had to find out more about you, he had to figure you out for his own sake. 

he took a sip of his chocolate milk before proceeding to ask his question, courtesy of curiosity.

“so,” jaemin’s voice rang out, wavering the serene mood. “why do you come up here? if you don’t mind me asking. why the rooftop at…” he trailed off and glanced at the watch on his wrist to check the hour. “nearly 2 in the morning?” he marginally laughed. “i would think you would want to sleep to get some rest after tiring days.”

you hummed at his words, settling your bottle down on the brick. “i don’t know if i’m completely honest.” you picked at the loose thread of your hoodie sleeve. “usually i can’t sleep. i just toss and turn for the rest of the night, so i guess i just come up here to escape my restlessness. plus this view is beautiful.” you tilted your head up, admiring the cityscape once again.

jaemin could see your eyes reflecting the lights of the city, making your eyes glisten and it was just as striking as the skyline. “it’s just so calming up here. i am at peace where no one can bother me. where no one can find me if they don’t try hard enough. it’s my safe place of sorts. there is just something so stunning to see the world like this, amongst the chaos—at a standstill. i admire it more than anything because you get a whole new perspective, you catch something new every time you see it. there is allure in the night and maybe that is the night owl within me talking. i can’t help but flourish in the night. i feel alive then and it’s what makes me come back every single time.” 

you nervously giggled when you glanced at jaemin who was observing you a particular way, a look that was hard to decipher and you felt judged from the hard stare. if only you knew judgment was far from his mind. 

“sorry if i went too into depth for that question.” another titter. “frequently my words get the best of me.” you put your head down, uneasy at the fact that you got carried away.

jaemin’s lips that were pressed tightly together quickly morphed into a grin. “oh no! no, no, no!” he quickly declared, shaking his head. his eyebrows were creased and he was scared that he offended you with his previous expression. “don’t be sorry, in fact i get what you mean. everything you described makes perfect sense. there is something different about the air of the night. regularly, i feel like that too. i just bask in the tranquility when the rest of reality is in shambles.”

you raised your head up to truly see him. he was already glancing at you so softly, his eyes filled with stars. the breeze ruffled his faded blue hair after every passing second that contrasted the dullness of his grey hoodie, black light washed denim jacket, and black jeans he was wearing. he looked cute and you slightly shook your head to get rid of the idea, but the smile that had grown on his face was contagious for your lips twitched against their will to form a subtle grin.

you moved closer to him, to cherish his heat amongst the increasing coldness of the night, even if you were in a fleece hoodie that kept you most certainly cozy. you bumped your shoulder with his and leaned down, refusing to peer at him for the fear that those beliefs would make their way into your head again.

you took a deep breath. “i also come up here to feel less lonely.” you didn’t know where those words came from. you were never one to share your feelings. you were a closed off individual by nature, but by being around a boy who you truly didn’t know except for the passings in the hall, you just found yourself opening up for no particular reason. he drew you in, he made you comfortable, and you felt safe enough around him to share your most personal thoughts.

“i mean i still am alone up here, but i don’t feel like i am. i am surrounded by miles of buildings and blinding lights and people who i can barely make out on the sidewalk or those in their cars. so i may be alone, but i truly am not because the world is around me, keeping me company.”

you couldn’t see, but he nodded at your words in response. he licked his lips and moved forward, not meeting your eyes though he could feel you scrutinizing him when he moved. “well besides having this city for company, you also have me now. i may not be as many people as a whole city, but at least it’s something.” he bumped your shoulder, the teasing evident in his words and you laughed at his answer. 

“it’s enough for me,” you spoke, swiveling to focus on him, a giddy look on your face and you were glad he didn’t notice you.

however, from that point on it is where everything switched, for you opened yourself up after a long while to none other than your neighbor at apartment number seventy—na jaemin, and you were glad for it. you were grateful for him.

so you talked animatedly with the boy you had only managed to see for fleeting seconds each day. it felt like hours as you were talking, in fact it was possible that it was hours. the night was beginning to fade to daylight, but your energy hadn’t dwindled in the slightest. you could talk till the sunrise, but you were held back from reality. you couldn’t stay till the morning. you couldn’t stay with the boy that you felt a connection with. there was a spark, something that would be put out like a diminishing flame once the sun rose.

noiselessness had enveloped the both of you once again when the last words were spoken on his end. you could see the peak of the sun behind the clouds. the stars had disappeared and so did the blackness of the night. in its place was the warm colors of the sunrise soon to come with yellow, red, and orange intermixed to create an enchanting gradient.

you let out a loud sigh that caught the attention of jaemin. he regarded you with fretful eyes and in return you gave him a half smile.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, placing his hand on your arm and giving a soft rub to the clothed skin.

his touch burned when it didn’t before and you whipped your head the other way.

“it’s just that it will be my last time doing this,” you solemnly voiced.

his hand dropped and he brought it around to hug himself. he was confused and concerned, but terrified at the same second.

“love…what do you mean?” he questioned, his tone nearly sharp and uncannily high. 

you heart clenched at his affectionate name for you, one that just slipped out through conversation unknowingly and it stuck. it was sweet like him and it made you feel guilty, but you couldn’t let him suspect a thing. 

he was burning his eyes into the side of your head, awaiting your reply. “it will just be the last time i see this view.” your eyes squinted at the sky and you puffed up your cheeks. water was prickling under your eyelids, but you wouldn’t let them fall.

his voice croaked out. “what are you talking about?”

you were worrying him. he was curious. you couldn’t let him know.

you rotated your whole body and moved forward to be closer to him. a beam graced your face to give him reassurance that everything would be okay. to give him hope that would last till the occasion came. “nothing…” you paused and shook your head. “nothing at all.”

he was skeptical because his head tilted and his eyebrows creased, but he let it go. you stared at him then, you really stared at him. examining every feature of his face from all the tiny imperfections that you saw beauty in, to the outfit he was in, and the look on his face. you memorized his whole being so you wouldn’t forget. seeing him like that with his hands in his pockets, slighting shivering and flushed pink cheeks, it stirred something within you for you had the urge to lean forward and kiss him. you were unable to resist and succumbed to the heart, even if it made things more complicated.

he was surprised when your warm lips met his cold, chapped ones. the kiss was sweet and he tasted like iced lemonade on a hot day with the sun blazing down as teenagers basked in the heat by the pool. he reminded you of summer—interminable, pleasant, and extraordinarily sunny. 

you maneuvered your arms around his neck to get even closer to him as he brought his own arms around your waist. he hugged you so tightly and when you both needed to catch your breath, you were afraid to let go. you had to though, so you leaned back with a bashful grin on your face. 

his beam could melt ice with how bright and wide it was. “what was that for?” he locked his hands together behind your waist and gently swayed you side-to-side. he chuckled, waiting to see how you would answer.

you tilted your head down and lightly hit his chest, but your smile grew. “just because,” you murmured and his loud chortle was music to your ears. you wouldn’t forget his laugh, it was your favorite part of him besides his glowing grin. 

your head rested under his chin and he pulled out his phone from his back pocket to put on some music to fill the void of passing cars and city life.

the tears pricked under your eyes and one stray tear cascaded down your cheek, staining the hoodie in a dark splotch. he didn’t see it, too immersed in the scenery again.

“live in the moment,” you mumbled into his chest. “because i’ll be gone in the morning.” 

however, jaemin didn’t pay any mind to your words since after all he didn’t hear them, something that would utterly hurt him. so you remain cuddled up on the rooftop till the sun peeked over the clouds and the both of you rushed off for fear of getting caught.

jaemin had walked you to your door to make sure you arrived safely, even if you called him out for the fact that you were just a few doors down from him. he had rolled his eyes at your statement, but proceeded to kiss you once more. that would be your last kiss with na jaemin before he went down the hall to his own apartment and shut the door, awaiting for the morning that was only a few hours away.

if only he knew.

for when he knocked on your door several hours later, what he found out broke him.

you hadn’t opened up the door.

he called your name countless times but there wasn’t a response.

you weren’t there, something he refused to believe.

it was rather fortunate that the landlord was passing by in the hall several moments after and jaemin rushed forward on a whim to ask the man if he knew anything of your whereabouts.

“excuse me, sir?” jaemin asked and tapped the man’s shoulder as he was on his way down the hall towards the staircase.

the man whirled around with a stoic expression on his face. “what do you need, kid?”

jaemin gulped, but let an easy grin present itself. “do you happen to know where the resident in apartment number seventy-two is? they don’t seem to be home and i was wondering if you knew anything.”

the man grunted and shook his head, checking out the apartment doors, then gazed back at jaemin’s distraught face. “don’t know, kid. there hasn’t been anyone living in that apartment for weeks. i’ve been trying to get people to move in, but to no avail. no one wants to...wonder why.” he scratched his chin. “better get on that.” he proceeded towards his destination, but not before jaemin staggered forward.

“wait!”

the man stopped in his tracks and spun around, his eyebrows raised.

“but y/n lives there, sir! y/n has been for several months. maybe you got the apartment numbers confused. i am sure of it.” he spoke in a desperate manner.

the man shook his head. “no, i’m sure. no one has been living there so i’m sorry, kid. don’t know what to tell you. “ he heaved a sigh and went off, not sparing a glance at jaemin or his shocked expression.

nothing of what the man said could be right because jaemin clearly knew you had been living there for months. he always saw you around and those remarks couldn’t be comprehended.

if only he knew the truth of why you would be gone in the morning, escaping reality for a piece of make believe and leaving a loving boy behind in the midst. 

[sweetfirebird]

the king in the kitchen

Charity prompt: Will and Chester at Christmas for unfuckitall on tumblr

 For Holly and Oak, obviously. 

“You live like this?” Will stared into the depths of Chester’s refrigerator as if he couldn’t believe how empty it was.

It was for show. Will must have seen the inside of the refrigerator when he had helped Chester home on the Solstice, or the evening afterward. Once Chester had slept for a day and gotten some of his strength back, he had realized, much too late, that Will would have gone looking for food in Chester’s deplorable kitchen, so he had spent an hour the next day hurriedly throwing away old takeout containers and expired cartons. The refrigerator looked much better than it had, if significantly emptier.

Chester wrapped his arms around his chest and answered huffily. “I am very busy.”

This was also for show. Chester’s face was warm and he was smiling uncontrollably at the sight of Will Battle poking around in his kitchen.

“Not in the wintertime,” Will pointed out, reasonably and yet pointedly. He was a wicked, wicked man.

Chester gazed at him with what was undoubtedly an expression of helpless adoration on his face. “I can’t make food,” he defended himself stiffly anyway. “It won’t turn out right.”

“You make ice cream. For a living.” Will turned from his study of a few condiment bottles and perhaps some butter to catch Chester mid-adoring stare. He startled, then froze, then moved on to the pantry before Chester could compose himself.

Chester had had a long few days. He was still recovering. He still felt like a failure of a Sibley for everything he had revealed.

Rather fortunately, he did not mind disappointing his ancestors.

Will cleared his throat a few times from the depths of the pantry, which, since Chester’s house was old, was a tiny room off the kitchen. “You also make a lot of treats to go with the ice cream,” he added, with just the slightest catch in his voice. “All of them delicious.”

Chester forced a frown onto his face that he didn’t feel. “Of course, they’re delicious. I made them.” He dropped his raised chin to his chest, then sighed. “Ice cream, however, is not really food.” He shouldn’t have to explain this. He didn’t like to explain this. It made him… a bit… something; he had never untangled the exact emotion. Envious or ashamed or embarrassed. Like it was a failure to be human, to be able to do something as simple as make eggs that weren’t dry, or rubbery, or burned. To make spaghetti that wasn’t mush. “I can’t make nourishment,” he hissed furiously, though the anger was directed at himself for still being bothered by this.

There was silence from the pantry, and then Will emerged, holding several of Athenais Sibley’s finest potions and one jar of maraschino cherries, all of which he put on the counter. He raised his eyebrow at Chester before he set the cherries down. The gesture sent a little thrill through Chester, despite everything.

“Sometimes, I like to just eat the cherries,” he explained with only a tiny bit of dignity.

“And you don’t have to cook them?” Will guessed—correctly. “I’d judge you less for eating waffle cones when you’re tired.”

“Sometimes, they’re breakfast.” Chester wrinkled his nose.

Will crooked a smile. It sent another shiver down Chester’s back.

“You know,” Will began then, in a voice that would have reminded Chester that Will was ascendant now, if Chester had even once forgotten, “when Sophie Babelin lost her father last year, and could barely make herself do anything, she pretty much lived off your ice cream.”

Chester abruptly had to also go to open his refrigerator and stare at the contents. He did have some butter. He’d thought so.

“I didn’t know that,” he said at last. “No one told me. She never came in.”

“Her friends got it for her.” Will came up behind him. Soon, they would both be staring at nothing.

Feeling foolish, Chester closed the fridge door. “You understand what I mean, though, don’t you?” he asked without turning around.

Will’s hands skimmed down Chester’s sides, then disappeared when Chester made a small noise that was not a squeak. Will stepped away.

“Well,” he said calmly, with the composure of a king, “I can cook.”  

The very idea of Will Battle in Chester’s freezing kitchen, preparing food, was enough to make Chester frantically picture matching aprons and shared meals and slippers by the bed. “They give presents at Christmas,” he murmured, idiotically, like an idiot, and then shut his eyes hard. It was Christmas, as much of the town around them celebrated it. Christmas Eve, in fact. Chester had nowhere to go to buy Will slippers, and no excuse to give them. For once, Christmas might have been useful.

“So they do,” Will answered, as if he saw nothing strange in Chester’s words or general behavior.

Chester opened his eyes. “Did your aunt teach you to cook?” He knew the answer was yes. What else could it be? Sia Battle would not have done any less. “And you want to do that, for me, in my neglected kitchen? On the eve of their Christmas celebrations?”

There was possibly no better time. No one in the coven cared about the day, and everyone else in town that they knew would not be bothering them. Even their familiars had decided to spend the evening huddled close before the fire, and had not moved for hours.

“Oh good, I’ve pleased you.” The smug note in Will’s voice was something else for Chester to hold carefully to his chest and blush over, while also giving a huff for the sake of old habits and the Sibley name.

“You know very well you have, my lord, just by being here.”

Chester coughed after the quiet admission, and raised his head in time to catch Will staring. “Should I help?” Chester wondered, voice only a bit huskier than usual. He had been too tired on the day of the Solstice and the day after for much beyond kissing Will. Then they’d both had work and family matters to attend to. This was the first night they had both been free since then. Maybe that was why they were both stuck like this. Thinking of that night, but watching each other like this was their first date.

It was either their second or their third; Chester couldn’t decide. And that was only if he counted drinks with Mercy, which he did, because Mercy would.

“The bigger issue is: you don’t seem to own food.” Will raised an eyebrow again.

Chester wanted to kiss it.

“I often forget to shop,” he informed Will with some pride. “And this week, I’ve been…”

“Yes?” Will was smug again.

“Cruel man.” Chester crossed his arms again. This week he had been more distracted than usual. That was what he should have said. All he did say was, “… with you. This week I’ve been with you.” Because Chester was tired, and his kitchen was cold and unloved, and Will was in a very nice sweater that Chester wanted to bury his hands in.

Will’s stare held a life all its own.

The sweater was soft against Chester’s palms. The space beneath it was warm with Will’s body heat. They seemed to be touching. Chester had no memory of crossing the kitchen to him.

“I am very distracting,” Will said, with a hum beneath the words, like spring. Like happiness and fucking. Chester had pleased him in return.

“I can order in some food, if you’d rather,” Chester suggested, and it was easier now to bend a little and put his head on Will’s shoulder. “Some places are still open.”

He didn’t think his real suggestion was that subtle, but either it was, or Will full of power enjoyed teasing him. “You don’t want me to cook for you?”

Chester raised his head despite knowing the hurt in Will’s voice wasn’t real. “Are you kidding? Even if Sia hadn’t taught you, I’d love it, but that’s the king in my kitchen! That’s… this is only number three, and I want… I want…”

“You want?”

“I will want,” Chester corrected himself, studying Will’s laryngeal prominence, “more of it.”

He had pleased Will again. He got a smile.

“My lord has to eat, does he not?”

“Yes, but—”

Will was so bossy when the power was freshly returned to him. “And the king as well, if he is with him?”

Chester leaned down again to complain into Will’s skin. Will was warm to the touch but not as much as he would have been someplace else. Like Chester’s living room before the fire, or Chester’s bed.

“If you make dinner, I can make dessert,” Chester offered. “I don’t know what. But there are all sorts of desserts only made this time of year. I can probably manage one of them. A frozen hot chocolate, maybe? Do you really want to…” he trailed off, glancing up, then pulling back to get a better look at Will’s pleasure. “Ah. Yes. You do. Because you….”

Saying it was still too hard. The feelings between them were not delicate, but putting them into the air, shaping them and leaving them to fall to the ground was nearly too much. They might break.  

“It will snow again soon,” Chester finished, instead of any of that. “If we’re running out to the stores before they close, we should go now. We can split up or—no.” Will shook his head slowly. “Be reasonable,” Chester tried to scold. “If we go together, people will say things. Which… you don’t care about, but I suppose it’s a habit for me to…” He pulled in a breath. “I can’t think if you’re going to stare at me like that.” The crooked smile briefly returned. “William,” Chester whined, out of breath and hot, and Will kissed him for it.

Chester was almost dizzy when Will finally broke away. “It might be snowing already,” he said in a faint voice, knowing that it was. “We’ll have to hurry.”

Also breathless, but considerably more smug—and yet attractively so—Will pulled Chester behind him as he went back out into the living room. Goodwin and Tabitha didn’t even twitch, because they were sensible creatures who weren’t rushing back out into the new snowfall.

“Where did you put your coat?” Will asked while pulling his from the back of a chair. “And that scarf Mercy gave you for Christmas? With the reindeer on it? Didn’t you tell her you don’t celebrate? Ah.” He found the scarf beneath his coat and tossed it to Chester’s shoulder.  

He was practically glowing with confidence and joy.

“I hate you,” Chester told him.

Will barely paused to look at him. “You don’t.”

“I don’t,” Chester agreed, so mildly he almost felt like someone else. Someone happy. “What are you going to make for me?”

“A surprise,” Will replied, enjoying himself. “Can we have regular hot chocolate?”

Chester didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”

Will had to let go of Chester’s hand to put on his coat. “But from scratch?”

“Yes.” Chester was almost insulted. If there was one thing he did, it was respect winter treats. Anyway, Will didn’t take to the cold like Chester did. Hot chocolate from scratch it would be. Sprinkles and whipped cream would be essential.

With a contented, embarrassing sigh, Chester pulled the scarf with the reindeer down and stepped in to wind it slowly and carefully around Will’s neck. “You need it more than I do, you know,” he whispered, face flaming at the sound of his own tender worry. It was terrible to be so fond of Will in a way that Will could see, but when he looked up, Will was smiling, and that was a fair exchange as far as Chester was concerned.

Will whispered back. “And we’ll eat at my table.”

Chester swallowed dryly, tingling with warmth without even his gloves on. “Yes, my lord.”

Will leaned in, nearly pushing their foreheads together. His gaze was a promise. “But first, your coat.”

Chester did not feel the cold as Will did. Nonetheless, he nodded. “First, my coat,” he agreed, and grabbed it absently as Will took his other hand and led him out into the snow.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 1

(Link to the idea) that made me want to write it instead of working on my OTHER FICS.

(Master post)

_______________________________________________________________________

“Soulmate Searcher?” Marinette questioned with intrigue and confusion.

“Its an app that just got a global release!” Alya answered. “At first it was only released in America, but it became a huge hit and now it has international servers.”

The designer looked at her friend with even more confusion.

“So why is it so popular? And why did you want me to install it on my phone?” Marinette inquired.

“Its an app that lets you find the special someone who is your significant other. Alya explained. “Its a tried and true compatibility tester.”

Marinette’s intrigue dissipated, in her mind it was just like those cheesy magazine quizzes they put in magazines to see which celebrity  you would marry. Marinette had long outgrown that phase, especially when last time she took one it did not say she would be paired with Adrien but XY! Gross. 

“Oh. Well count me out. Those quizzes are just a load of...”

“No way lady dude.” Nino chimed in. “This thing is legit. It has the highest matchmaking app back in the States and it is like down to a science and stuff.”

Marinette looked at the DJ skeptically.

Alya placed her hand on her shoulder.

“ It is more then just a personality quiz. You put in your name, your age, dating age range, preference, and so on, and then you answer a bunch of questions that allows the app to gage your personality, mentality and emotional impulse. Then after thats done, it will match you with the top 10 people who have the highest compatibility with you in a 50 mile radius. You can see percentage rates and everything. Then you can decide if you want to message any of the people on the list or block them. They can only see your name, photo and the percentage.” Alya detailed.

“So then all a person needs to do is know what your answers are and copy them.”

“An interesting Hypothesis but sadly incorrect.” Max answered from behind the group.

“Sorry to intrude, but I too had my doubts about the app until I learned about how the app’s algorithm worked. All questions given are randomized and answering the questions the exact same way even if someone did get the same questions does not guarantee 100% compatibility. I made several dummy accounts and rigged them in order to make them both have identical questions and answers, but they did not achieve 100% compatibility.” The class egghead began to explain. 

“Having run the test numerous times with numerous accounts, the algorithm matches people with similar beliefs but not identical,  as having too much in common does not mean soul mate, it can be seen as suffocating. I have not yet cracked the theorem of how to get 100%. The highest I have been able to get is 93%.  It is as if it is a perfect formula for compatibility.” Max concluded.

Marinette had to admit her interest was peeked.

“So its a one time questionnaire and then done?” Marinette pressed with more interest.

“Well the first questionnaire takes an hour or two so it has enough data for a base compatibility profile. Then you answer 10 questions every day for 2 weeks to reaffirm any errors it might have made. Thats how the App is so successful. After about 2 weeks, your profile will be established. It was able to cut the margin of error down to 1.9%” Max exclaimed. “Its the pinnacle of mathematical perfection.”

“Thanks dude, couldn't have explained it better... really.” Nino thanked the robot enthusiast.

“Anytime, now I must head off. Markov and I have more tests to run.” Max head out and left the three teens to their own devices.

Marinette thought about it, she really didn't have much to lose trying it out.

“I even got Adrien to install it. He said he will fill it out after fencing.” Alya Whispered.

Marinette realized she had to do it. What if Adrien was on the app and some other girl had a high compatibility with him before she had a chance to try it. What if he fell in love with that mystery girl, got married and then bought a hamster!?

“Okay, I will take the quiz.” Marinette exclaimed with Confidence.

“Atta girl!”

______________________________________________________________________

Marinette had gone with Alya back to the Dupain Bakery in order to answer the questions in peace.

In Marinette’s room, Alya was relaxing as she watched the Designer answer the questions as honestly as possible.

“Now Girl, odds are the percentage maybe around the 70% mark, But Knowing you and Adrien, I bet you two will make it into the 80′s.” Alya answered.

Marinette nodded, half listening as she focused on answering.

“Nino and I got an 85%, which was pretty high. Ivan and Myl��ne only got a 79%. So no worries even if its in the 70′s”

“DONE!” Marinette exclaimed as she fell back. She was mentally exhausted. The questions were surprisingly more in depth then she expected.

She pressed submit and waited. Staring at her phone as it ‘processed her answers’

Alya stood up walking over to the bluish-black haired designer.

“Well.”

The list popped up.

Marinette scrolled through from 10 to 1. No Adrien. She felt herself sigh deeply.

“He isn't on it...” Marinette spoke defeated.

Alya took a look.

“Sorry girl, It might be he hasn't uploaded his profile yet.” Alya tried to encourage her friend who was burying her head in her pillow. 

“You think?”

“He is a busy guy, but also, you need to see who is number one on the list. A certain guitarist you happen to be fond off.” Alya said with a smile.

Marinette pulled her head up and took her phone. Sure enough, it was Luka who was number one on the list. He had an 80% compatibility rating with her, which was at least 20% higher then the guy in second place. Maybe this was a sign that she should move on from Adrien and ask Luka out.

“Maybe I should message Luka, If he believes in this sort of thing.” Marinette spoke with a blush on her face.

Alya nodded.

“Do what you think is right girl, Adrien or not, you deserve a guy that will make you happy.” 

“Thanks Alya, you are the best.” Marinette smiled sweetly at her best friend.

She clicked on the profile. The pop up asked if she would like to message the user Luka Couffaine.

Marinette paused, she was nervous about doing this. It was as if this was her crossroads. Would she go for it?

_____________________________________________________________________

“DONE!” Adrien exclaimed as he fell back on his bed. He was mentally exhausted as well as physically. He told Alya he would try out the app as soon as he was free from fencing.

“I don't get why you even bothered with those dumb questions.” A grouchy floating cat creature commented.

“Its an in depth Compatibility test Plagg. This could be the best way of finding My lady.”

Plagg looked at the model with skepticism.

“What makes you think that you would be matched up with Ladybug? You don't even know who she is.” 

“We are soulmates, so obviously we will have the highest compatibility.” Adrien answered with confidence as he sat up.

Plagg rolled his eyes.

“You do know just because you were picked to be the cat miraculous wielder doesn't mean your soulmate is ladybug. There have been Ladybug’s and Chat noir’s that haven't gotten together.”

“It isn't because we were chosen together. I can just feel it Plagg. I know we are meant to be. And if for some reason the girl with the highest compatibility with me isn't Ladybug, I will still likely find someone that I can find myself liking. But knowing my Lady, she and I will have a compatibility of 85 maybe even 90%” Adrien answered with a loving sigh. “Oh, its ready.”

Adrien smiles at his phone before looking at the list.

“Oh Kagami is on here. 79% Thats pretty good. But she is only number two? Huh, so then who is number one?” Adrien spoke aloud as he scrolled. As he saw the name that was number one his face turned beet red and and he fell back on the bed.

“Adrien!?” Plagg exclaimed as he flew to the frozen blond. “What happen.... oh no Fucking way.”

_______________________________________________________________________

Marinette was about to press the button when another pop up appeared.

“List updated?”

Marinette clicked out of Luka’s profile and noticed he was now at second place.

“Luka got moved to second.” Marinette spoke with surprise.

“What? Then whose first?”

Marinette scrolled up. Her eyes went Wide.

“ADRIEN!?!?” Marinette shouted.

Alya smiled.

“I knew it! I told you he would be on your list! And Number one to boot. So what  is the percentage. 82? 85% Like Nino and I?”

“100...” Marinette spoke hardly audible.

Alya couldn't hear.

“How much?”

Marinette turned her phone to Alya.

Alya’s jaw dropped.

“1.... 100%!!!!!!!!!!”

_______________________________________________________________________

Plagg could not contain his laugher. The blond was still frozen staring at his screen. Adrien had no idea how right he was. His Lady and him were perfect for each other. Plagg was absolutely loving every second of this. 

“P-Plagg.”

The black cat managed to calm down.

“Ye Ha HA! Yea Adrien?” Plagg responded between laughing fits.

“Marinette is Ladybug.”

Plagg sobered up quick.

“What... What makes you say that?” Plagg spoke, trying his best and failing at hiding the fact that Adrien was right. Thankfully Adrien was too out of it to notice.

Plagg pauses.

“Ladybug is my soulmate, Marinette scored perfect compatibility with me  on the soulmate app. Even with error included, the chances of that happening are…”

“It’s a silly quiz.” Plagg shouted. Tikki would kill him if Adrien found out at the wrong time. He had to play dumb.

Adrien thought about it, maybe he was overthinking it, plus Alya and Nino scored around 85%. Maybe the system was glitching out? 100% was unheard off according to what he found about the app, even with people who tried it and have been married for decades.

“I guess you are right… Besides, you answer questions each day, the percentages will shift. Maybe the system will correct itself, though I should ask Marinette what her thoughts are about the match up tomorrow. Though... even if it isn't Ladybug... Marinette is a pretty nice person to have good compatibility with.”

Adrien felt himself entertaining the thought of him and Marinette together. It seemed really, really nice. He found himself blushing at the thought. He quickly shook the thought off. He was getting ahead of himself. What if Marinette didn't feel the same way he did? What if Luka saw the compatibility score that Marinette got with him and decided not to date Marinette because of it. Marinette does really like that musician, what if Marinette hates him for ruining her chance at happiness!?

Adrien took a calming breath. He won't say anything, the app still needs to fine tune his profile. he is sure it will correct itself if it needs to within the two weeks, after that, he will look into it.

“I am sure that things will fix themselves.” Adrien said as he turned away from the cat Kwami, though part of him really hoped that the 100% would stay.

_______________________________________________________________________

THERE I FINISHED part 1

If you want part two, please let me know. I love hearing feedback and it feeds my impulsive need to write.

[tsarisfanfiction]

Nakama (Tales From The Heart)

Fandom: One Piece Rating: Gen Warnings: None Characters: Law, Penguin, Shachi, Bepo, Polar Tang

Travelling in a submarine posed a unique problem, which the Heart Pirates had noticed early on, and that was the requirement for fuel. Mercifully, the Tang had several huge tanks, half of them reserves, so the likelihood of ever finding themselves running on empty was slim.

The run of bad luck started when island after island was unable to provide them with any fuel. The Tang wasn't picky about what powered her – a stroke of luck, considering how specialised she otherwise was – but they'd been young and naïve enough to not start looking for fuel until they were down to the reserve tanks, believing that they still had plenty of fuel left.

"I don't like this," Shachi admitted, staring at the display panels in the control room. All four of them were gathered there, not quite comfortable with their current situation as the dials claimed they were down to less than an eigth of a single tank. In an ideal world, they'd have resorted to sailing long ago, manoeuvring her bulk the traditional way until they found enough fuel to start the engines going again.

Doflamingo had unhelpfully decided to be in the same area as them, and Law's pink flamingo-induced paranoia had overridden his running low on fuel paranoia, so they'd taken in the sail and dived, regretfully igniting the engines to escape.

"He won't linger long," Penguin said hopefully, looking at Law, who shrugged helplessly.

"Keep the engines on minimum power," the youngest ordered. "We'll let the currents carry us, just use the fuel to keep our vital systems running. Bepo, chart where it takes us so you can get us to an island once we resurface."

"Aye, Captain!" the mink agreed eagerly, already surrounded by maps and his paws covered in ink, which smeared onto everything he touched. The maps seemed unintelligible to the humans, inky black smudges covering the lines between land and sea, but Bepo didn't seem perturbed by his additions to the cartography. "We're here," he explained, adding another splotch of ink to the map as he nudged the spot in question. The other three leaned in, unable to tell for themselves and trusting that the mink was right. "The current seems to be heading this way so far," he continued, dragging the claw along the parchment, leaving a black streak.

"There aren't many islands that way," Penguin commented dubiously. "If the current takes us past that cluster," he pointed to a small group of islands almost but not quite on their route, "we're going to be sailing for a long time."

"We should be able to surface there," Law said. "If we come up just past them and backtrack, it'll take a little more fuel but we'll be able to avoid Doflamingo. He wasn't heading this way from what I saw, so coming up the other side of the islands should keep us out of sight."

"Do we have enough fuel for that?" Shachi asked, unconvinced, as he glanced back at the gauges again. He couldn't read the exact level from where he was, but it was worryingly low.

"Yes," Law said, sounding about as certain as Shachi had been. "We might need to cut power everywhere except this room," he added, thinking out loud. "But we have enough."

No-one bothered to ask if they knew how to isolate a single room. They all knew they didn't.

"It'll be fine," Bepo said, his grin almost genuine, and they smiled weakly. It was a testament to the fear Doflamingo instilled in their captain, and by association the rest of them, that running out of fuel underwater was still their preferred doom.

Two hours later, with their fuel gauge now firmly at the bottom end of the red, Shachi ventured out of the control room to make sure all the lights were turned off in all the other rooms, and anything else that was taking unnecessary power. A painful order from Law had him shutting down even the machines in the infirmary, and as he carefully picked his way through the darkness back to the control room, the external lights flickered off.

"Where are we?" he asked Bepo as he re-entered the room to find even the control room's lights had been dimmed as much as possible.

"An hour away from the islands," Law replied for him, having clearly just asked the same question himself, and Shachi breathed a shaky sigh before collapsing into a chair. It let out an oof, but Penguin didn't push him off. Opposite them, the other side of the table, Law was covered in ink and nestled on Bepo's lap. For once, he wasn't protesting at the mess. "This current is staying steady." There was nothing left to say, so Shachi slouched back against the taller boy, whose arms loosely wrapped around him while a chin found rest on his left shoulder.

It was going to be a long hour.

Or so they thought.

If the external lights had still been on, they might have had some warning. As it was, there wasn't even a flicker outside the sole, dark, window in the room before the Tang lurched wildly. A high-pitched wail started up as they were flung to the floor, caught off balance. Something shattered.

"I thought we turned that off!" Penguin shouted above the wailing, flapping a hand towards the red light now flashing away urgently on the control panel.

"Priorities!" Law snapped back, already fumbling his way forwards to slap the external light controls. Shachi shrieked.

Suddenly illuminated outside the singular window was a row of gleaming teeth, each one easily larger than any of the pirates. As they moved, heading forwards towards the prow of the Tang, scales glinted in the light, and a large eye passed right by the window.

"S-s-sea King!" Bepo screamed, throwing himself back, away from the window.

"Why now?" Shachi lamented, scrambling towards the control panel himself. "Weapons, weapons, weap-ah!" The Tang lurched again, jostling him sideways into Law, who toppled to the floor. "Law!"

"Weapons are offline!" Penguin shouted from where he had managed to cling to the section of the panel that controlled the engine power. "Fuel is almost zero. If we turn the weapons on we won't be able to surface!"

"We won't be able to surface if we're dead!" Shachi yelled right back, slamming a fist on the power button. "Come on, come on, come on!" he muttered as the systems started to re-engage. "Come on, come on, come o- no! No, no, no, no!" he screamed as the lights flickered and died. "No, dammit, come on! You can do it, please, come on!"

The external lights flickered once and died, followed shortly by the ones in the control room itself, plunging them into almost total darkness. The faint glow from the control panel, the sonar screaming now-silently as it declared the threat circling them.

"What do we do?" Bepo cried. "Captain?"

Law was silent for several long moments, fingers dancing over the controls as if he could coax some response, any response from them. The fuel gauge declared total emptiness, completely drained by the attempt to turn on the weapons, and slowly the background hum of the Tang faded away to nothing.

"I don't know," he said finally, and for once sounded his age – a scared young teenager trapped as death raced towards them - in the unnatural silence. "I… I don't know."

"There has to be something!" Penguin exclaimed frantically, joining his captain in flicking controls. "Something, please, please."

The Tang lurched again, sending them all toppling to the floor in one giant heap, and they clung to each other, each of them trying to use the darkness to hide the way they were sobbing in terror.

"Please!"

None of them knew which of them said the final plea out loud, maybe it had been all of them, but as if it were a cue, a familiar roar sounded.

The roar of the Polar Tang's engines coming to life.

None of the lights came back on, and in reality it was less of a roar and more of a dying splutter, but the stuttering hum beneath their feet was unmistakable, and they all looked up at the panel as one, just in time to see the lights signifying the weapons were active flicker weakly on.

The sonar shrieked, the sound once again on, as the shape denoting the sea king hurtled towards them, and before any of them could move, could comprehend what was happening, the Tang moved.

It was a lurch, but this time there was no shuddering impact to go alongside it – a fact only noticed in its absence. It felt more like a roll, the sort of movement they did when dealing with a sea king attack with plenty of engine power to spare.

The controls moved, just a little but enough that it couldn't be explained away as a trick of the half-light, and the Tang lurched back the other way just as the sonar reported the sea king passing over their heads.

Bepo was the first to react, pulling himself out of the pile of pirates on the floor to run to the panel, where the gauges still said there was no fuel despite the way the Tang's engines were humming and her weapons system was somehow online. He grabbed the moving controls, glancing at the sonar and steering the Tang as if she had a full fuel of tank, away from the next attack.

The impossibility of the situation could wait. Shachi was next to surge to his feet, throwing himself to the weapons and firing off at the sea king as it lurched towards them again. True to form, as a World Government standard ship, the blast was powerful enough to knock the sea king a long way down, into the depths.

They didn't wait for it to come back, Law and Penguin now joining them at the control panel as the Tang roared painfully, accelerating and peeling away from the current she'd been riding to head for the surface.

Doflamingo was long-forgotten as they broke the waves, the action feeling like a triumphant leap from the water even though in reality it was little more than a final splutter before the Tang's engines went silent, all of the controls turning off and locking up as whatever mysterious energy that had powered her disappeared, leaving her a drained husk.

"We… we're alive," Shachi panted, flopping over the dead control panel limply. Beside him, Penguin was shaking in disbelieving laughter. "We're… how?"

"Raise the sail," Law said automatically, looking around blankly. "Bepo, where are we?" The mink scrambled to pick up his map and carry it over to the window, where daylight was streaming in. The map was covered in black ink, and he frowned at it for several long seconds before his ears flattened in defeat.

"The map's ruined, I'm sorry," he mumbled, following Law as he decided to leave the still-dark control room and head for the main door. Somehow, despite the Polar Tang being completely offline, the main door slid open jerkily to let him out on the deck.

"Don't worry about it," Law said absently and Penguin and Shachi wandered past, still dazed, to raise the sail.

It was only once the sail was up, the white fabric catching the breeze and slowly pushing the submarine to glide along the surface of the water, that Law let himself sink to the decking, head in his hands. The others congregated around him, all in equal states of shock.

"How did she do that?" Penguin asked, his voice cracking. "She was empty – is empty. How..?"

No-one had an answer for him, shaking with relief and the fading dregs of adrenaline as they flopped back on the deck. Somehow, the Polar Tang had done the impossible and snatched them from the jaws of death. None of them knew how.

"You're amazing," Shachi said, running a hand along the damp wood. The ship remained silent, save for the wind in her sail and the waves lapping at her side, but he just smiled.

"We'll get fuel at the next island," Law said, and it wasn't a wish, it was fact. No matter what it took, they'd fill the Tang to the brim with fuel so she never had to do that – whatever "that" had been – again.

"Best ship ever," Bepo added, his fur still stained with ink that was rubbing off on the deck as he lay there. "Thank you."

She bobbed just a little bit more vigorously over the next wave.

[molluskwritesfic]

The Waif ~ Chapter Three

As an alien science experiment, she remembers nothing. Knows no one. With nowhere else to turn, Claudia must rely on the Doctor and his companions for help. She's mutating. The Doctor knows more than he's telling. But why does the Time Lord seem to hate her so much? Rated M.

Masterlist - Fanfiction.net - Ao3

Prologue - Previous Chapter - This Chapter

Chapter Three: The Mimic - Part One

Claudia woke up slowly from within her blanket cocoon. Twenty four hours earlier, she wouldn’t have believed it were possible, but now she was so warm and sleepy that it took her a minute to realize what had woken her. 

She jolted slightly when there was a knock at the door; three sharp raps, like Dinstral would on the glass of her small prison whenever he wanted her attention. The similarity made her heart drop. For a fraction of a second her still-dozy mind believed that the scientists had found her again. 

She brushed the thought away, writing it off as ridiculous, and called out, “Yes?”

Decidedly the exact opposite of Dinstral, Rose tentatively pushed her way inside. She was already dressed, but still rather hazy, like she hadn’t been up long enough to be fully awake. 

“Morning,” Rose greeted with a small smile. “I was gonna let you sleep, but the Doctor gets grumpy if we leave him on his own for too long. How do you feel about breakfast?”

Claudia’s stomach rumbled at the mention of food, but then clenched as her mind automatically went to the bland porridge that her diet had consisted of over the last few weeks. But she reckoned that normal people are more than slimy oatmeal. 

She nodded, trusting that Rose had something better in mind.

“Great. Get dressed and I’ll show you the kitchen.”

Claudia fumbled out of bed and made for the closet. She opened the dark purple door and gawked at the sight. Beyond was a massive walk-in closet, complete with a vanity. The entire room, wall to wall, was completely packed with clothes. 

There were dresses, jeans, coats, shorts, skirts, a series of undergarments, and more. There was even a smaller connecting room completely dedicated to a myriad of shoes - the purpose to many of them she couldn’t even begin to decipher. 

If this was a personal closet, Claudia couldn’t imagine what the main wardrobe was like. Surely there were more articles of clothing in this one room than she could ever wear in her entire life.

“You alright?” Rose called from the squashy orange couch, where she had sprawled out to wait. 

“Yeah,” Claudia squeaked. “But what do I wear?”

“Whatever you like.”

Claudia considered this. “But I don’t know what I like.”

Rose heaved a sigh. “Just look for somethin’ you think you like, and put it on. 

Claudia blinked at Rose. Then at the closet. Overwhelmed, but eager, she plunged into the depths.

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

When Claudia tumbled out of the closet twenty minutes later, she was the living manifestation of her maximalist bedroom - had its style been based on a three year old that insisted on dressing itself. After so long in a cold, colorless environment, she positively adored anything bright and soft, and felt the need to hoard it all like a magpie.

Her short excursion into her personal wardrobe had been filled with her digging through the racks and shelves in search of color. At which point her finds were then separated into piles to be sorted by which colors she liked best. 

After a period of painful deliberation and significant indecision, she finally emerged wearing an avocado green jumper decorated with little red frogs under a chunky dandelion yellow cardigan, long rainbow socks over electric blue jeans, solid red trainers with sequins dotting across the toes, all topped off with a neon magenta beanie and matching gloves. 

Beaming with excitement, Claudia hardly registered the raised eyebrow Rose directed at her choice of style. 

“Blimey,” Rose snorted, struggling not to laugh outright in the face of the memory-less woman’s optimism. “That’s… uh… boisterous.”

Claudia wasn’t sure if this was a compliment or not, but chose to believe it was meant well. She grinned and tugged her hat down more securely on her head. 

“Right, then. Come on.” Rose paused in front of Claudia’s bathroom mirror, taking a moment to smear away a bit of the eye liner caked around her eye that was a smidge uneven.

Claudia made a mental note to ask Rose how makeup worked as she followed her through the maze of corridors that led to the kitchen.

The kitchen was large but homey. It contained the usual variety of items to cook with as well as a number of things that Claudia didn’t recognize. 

“How do you not get lost?” Claudia inquired as Rose made her way to a machine that appeared to be some sort of drink dispenser.

“You get used to it, I guess. She moves rooms around a lot, so you just sort of guess. Coffee or tea?” 

Claudia blanked. “Can you… pick for me?” 

Rose nodded and placed a mug beneath the dispenser. With the press of a few buttons, hot liquid was streaming into the mug. Claudia watched, transfixed, as the steam rolled off of it, curling into pretty shapes that swirled and danced like living creatures before dissolving into the air.

Rose settled down with two mugs and two plates of bacon and eggs. Claudia took a sip of her coffee, but grimaced at the taste. 

Rose grinned and indicated the dispenser. “Go add milk and sugar.”

Claudia hopped to her feet and pondered the machine. It looked complicated, but she found it to actually be fairly straightforward. Curious about her own preferences, Claudia spent more time toying with it than necessary, adding milk and sugar in miniscule amounts until enjoyable. 

Sipping at the now lukewarm liquid, she made her way back to the table. Her mouth watered at the collective smell of the bacon, eggs, and coffee. She picked up a fork and, with a certain amount of trepidation, scooped egg into her mouth.

Rose watched bemusedly as Claudia wolfed down the large plate of food at an alarming speed. 

“Blimey, you were hungry, weren’t ya?” The blonde commented as she took another sip from her own mug, which was filled with tea, quirking her eyebrows at the other woman over the rim of the mug.

Claudia just shrugged, unable to respond around her bacon and egg stuffed mouth. When it was gone, she glanced longingly at the food-dispenser machine. Not that she was still hungry - she was stuffed - but because she wanted to see what other things tasted like.

“You can mess about with that later,” Rose promised. “ The Doctor will be wondering where we got to. I’m surprised he hasn’t come looking for us yet.”

~0~0~0~ . . ~0~0~0~

The Doctor was standing at the console when they arrived, staring at the monitor with a serious expression. From over Rose’s shoulder, Claudia made out what appeared to be a black and white video, fuzzy, vague, and lacking any artistic quality. She thought that it might have been from a security camera, but the Doctor abruptly switched it off before she could get a proper look.

“What’re you watching?” Rose inquired, bounding over and leaning against the console beside him, close enough for their shoulders to brush.

“Nothing,” he said quickly. He yanked down a lever with a certain degree of flair, his previous severity melting like butter. “So, Rose Tyler, where to now? I was thinking maybe the moon of Tyink. Lots of lovely views. Oh! Or the United Republic of Snah. Those people there love a party. The Sun Festivals are the best across three galaxies. Mind you, better not go during the Snee era, never mind why…. or…”

Rose cast Claudia a glance. “Actually, Doctor, shouldn’t we be looking into that science ship from yesterday?”

“We took care of the science vessel,” the Doctor griped, keeping his eyes fixed on the switches he was fiddling with. 

“Yeah, but what about Claudia? Shouldn’t we be trying to figure out what happened with her memory?”

Claudia felt a rush of gratitude and looked to the Doctor expectantly.

“The blood sample didn’t reveal anything I didn’t already know,” the Doctor explained, as if doing so inconvenienced him greatly. “A buildup of mutagenic particles mixed with alien DNA. It’ll dissipate eventually. Give it a year or two and all the residual components should be completely gone.”

“What about my memories?” Claudia asked, quiet and hopeful.

“I don’t know,” the Doctor said in a flat voice, his emotions carefully concealed behind a mask. “I went back to Cardiff when you were sleeping. The Thalians dropped their test subjects all across the city, probably as some form of stimulus experiment to see how you would respond to stressful situations. That’s all.”

“What happened then?” Her heart was hammering in her chest. Her fingernails dug painfully into her palms. She barely noticed when Rose wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You said that one of the test subjects displayed unchecked aggression,” he added, not bothering to look at her. “I’m willing to bet that it was a cascade neural degradation response to the treatments. Most likely you experienced something similar, but it manifested differently.” He paused. “Bit lucky, actually.”

Claudia pondered this for a moment. She certainly didn’t feel lucky. Words failed her. All she could do was stare at him, emptiness welling up inside her, reclaiming it’s hold on her soul.

“Can’t we figure out where she came from?” Rose pressed, fixing the Doctor with a reproachful glare.

“No real way to find out,” he sniffed. “Doubtful she’s from anywhere near Cardiff. Have you noticed her accent? Indistinct. Thalians are capable of traveling the vortex, so without her memories, there’s no way to narrow it down.”

“But there’s got to be something,” Rose hissed, casting Claudia a sideways glance. “Are you not even going to try?”

Claudia said nothing. She stood silently, staring at her glittery shoes without really seeing them. They'd made her feel so happy before, but now she felt nothing when the boisterous sparkles blurred as her eyes welled with tears. She wrapped her arms around herself in an imitation of a hug. She tried not to cry, she really did. But a single tear rolled down her cheek unbidden.

When she finally spoke, she did so quietly that her words could barely be heard over the hum of the engines. “What do I do now?” 

“Nothing, I suppose. That’s all there is to it.” The Doctor shrugged, going back to the console.

“Doctor!”

“Rose, leave it,” the Doctor snapped, his voice low and laden with warning. A hidden meaning lingered in his dark eyes, one that Claudia couldn’t begin to decipher but Rose took to heart. 

Rose blinked at him for a moment, but immediately dropped it, brimming with eager curiosity. 

“So, where to?” The Doctor repeated his earlier question, dropping the severity and attempting to take back on a cheerful facade. It almost worked. “Snah?”

“Actually, I was thinking about stopping by home,” Rose suggested, voice still tense from the previous exchange. 

“What for?” The Doctor scoffed, lip curling into a scowl. 

“Oi! Don’t start!” The corners of her mouth gave the slightest twitch, like it was an old joke. “I’ve got that Moeysian necklace for my mum, the one we got on Iria? I promised her a souvenir and I need to get it to her before I forget.”

The Doctor sighed wearily but began the sequence. Claudia remembered to grab onto the railing as the ship began to jolt violently, but didn’t really feel it. She was busy biting down her despair into bitter acceptance. 

When the TARDIS landed, she had steeled herself. Her emotions were locked down tight in a steel box. It left her feeling numb and grey, but it was better than the alternative.

“There. Earth. Powell Estate. 2007.” The Doctor looked up from the controls. “A couple months after we left.”

“Alright. You go on out. Just give me two ticks.” Rose hurried back into the corridor, presumably to retrieve the gift for her mother, leaving Claudia alone with the Doctor.

The Doctor sighed, shrugging on his light brown trench coat as he approached the doors leading to the outside world.

“Where’s the Powell Estate?” Claudia asked shyly, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she followed him out into a grey parking lot. 

She surveyed the surrounding buildings curiously. And to be fair, everywhere was interesting after spending the majority of your conscious life locked in a glass case. 

The sun was out, it’s position suggesting that it was mid to late afternoon. The warm air and thick greenery on the nearby trees and shrubs she could spot through the gaps in the buildings told her it was spring. 

She took a deep breath, reveling in the earthy scent. 

“London,” The Doctor responded, leaving the door open for Rose and leaning against the side of the blue box. He cast her a glance and tugged at his ear awkwardly. “Do you… uh… know where that is?”

Claudia shook her head. The name meant as much to her as the other places they’d mentioned. Iria and Moeysian and Snah. She leaned beside him, careful to leave a few inches of space between them. 

The Doctor’s frown intensified. He studied her closely for a heartbeat before turning away once more, as if looking at her caused him physical pain. 

She couldn’t imagine why. Claudia looked down at her outfit. Maybe boisterous hadn’t been a compliment after all.

Suddenly self-conscious, she took off her gloves and stuffed them into her cardigan pocket.

“2007?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“Rose said that your box travels in time.”

“Yep.”

“When am I from?”

The Doctor sighed through his nose. “The ship you were on was in October of 2007. Just a few months after where we are now. But like I said, the Thalians are capable of time travel, so you could be from anywhere.”

Claudia nodded, pushing back thoughts having to do with her past. “The scientists were Thalians?”

The Doctor nodded, staring resolutely at the graffiti sketched on the wall across the lot.

“And they’re aliens?”

“Yep,” he said, popping the ‘p’.

“And I’m human?”

The Doctor let out a breath that hissed through his teeth. “Yes.”

“Like Rose?”

“Like most everyone on Earth.”

“What about you?” The question had been nagging at the back of her mind, but she hadn’t gotten around to asking Rose yet. “Are you human or Thalian or…?”

“Time Lord,” he grunted. “Last of the Time Lords.”

“Last?” The Doctor tensed. Claudia noticed and decided not to ask about it anymore. “I’m sorry.”

“What is taking her so long?” He grumbled, mostly to himself, before leaning inside the door and calling, “Hurry up, will you?”

“Alright! No need to shout,” Rose’s voice drifted out, her clanging footsteps audible from outside the TARDIS as she stomped across the console room. When she emerged she didn’t hesitate to lead the way across the lot towards one of the buildings. 

They had nearly reached it when a dark skinned man dressed in blue coveralls came sprinting around the corner, panting like he’d run a fair distance.

“Look out, here comes trouble,” The Doctor grumbled, only half-playful.

“Rose!” The man shouted, a massive grin spreading across his face when he laid eyes on the blonde. 

Rose beamed back and he hurried to throw his arms around her shoulders to pull her into a bear hug. “Oh, I’ve missed you!”

The man released Rose and clapped the Doctor heartily on the shoulder. “I was in the shop but couldn’t get away.” He shrugged his shoulders sheepishly. “I was worried I’d miss you.”

“Time was, you’d hear the TARDIS and come running,” Rose teased, eyes narrowing impishly. 

“Well I did, didn’t I?” He protested, gesturing to his work clothes. “I was under a car. It took a minute.” His eyes drifted between the pair for a moment before they rested on Claudia, who had stayed back. He smiled warmly at her. “Don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Mickey, by the way.”

“Claudia.” Claudia shook his proffered hand with a small smile. He seemed nice, if not a bit dopey.

The Doctor rolled his eyes, nudging Claudia away from Mickey with his shoulder. “Come on then, go and see your mum. I don’t want to stay here all day.”

“Good luck with that, mate,” Mickey chuckled. “Jackie’s not about to let Rose be anywhere else. Not today, at least.”

“Why? What’s today?” The Doctor narrowed his eyes, trying to work out what he’d missed.

Mickey rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t know, maybe Rose’s birthday.”

“It’s the 27th?” Rose echoed, her wide eyes blinking in surprise. 

“Yeah” Mickey confirmed. “Your mum’s been worried that you wouldn’t turn up, especially since you missed your last one.”

“How old are you?” Claudia inquired, shuffling back from around the Doctor so she could be included in the conversation.

Rose frowned thoughtfully. “It’ll be my twentieth, I guess.” She shook her head to clear it. “Time’s funny on the TARDIS. I don’t really know if I’m older than twenty, or still younger.”

“Younger, technically,” the Doctor offered. “We missed a year, remember?”

“Yeah.” Rose frowned. “Does that make me nineteen, then?”

“Does it matter?” The Doctor complained. “You don’t exactly live linearly. Technically, it isn’t your birthday at all. Not to you, anyway.”

“But it is to her.” Mickey crooked his thumb in the direction of Jackie’s flat. “She’s been looking forward to it. She’s got presents and everything.”

“Fine,” the Doctor relented, albeit begrudgingly,  as if he were giving in to give the humans a treat. But looking at Rose’s determination and Mickey’s smug grin, Claudia could tell that the alien didn’t actually have much choice. “But just until tomorrow, you got that?”

“Whatever you say, boss,” Mickey smirked cheesily.

Together, the small group, headed by Rose and Mickey, who had launched into a deep conversation about what Rose had missed while she’d been traveling, made its way towards one of the buildings. 

Naturally, Claudia brought up the rear, lingering a couple yards behind the Doctor. Her first instinct was to walk side by side with him, as the small party was even numbered, but the Doctor had shoved his hands into his coat pockets and prowled stoically after the others with long strides that kept an intentional distance between himself and Claudia.

Instead of struggling to keep up, she resigned to his apparent distaste towards her and focused instead on placing one foot in front of the other, wiggling her toes within her comfortable new shoes and appreciating the barely audible clacks they made on the asphalt. 

Claudia's attention was diverted, however, when an uncomfortable tingling sensation itched its way up her spine. Her eyes darted away from her feet as she reevaluated her surroundings in a manner resembling a nervous cat. 

Outwardly, there was no significant change in the environment. Rose, Mickey, and the Doctor passed through the glass door without a hitch, though the resulting screech of the rusted hinges made Claudia flinch. 

The sensation somewhat passed as she herself entered the building, but through the glass pane she caught a glimpse of a man staring at her from across the lot. 

He was tall, that much was apparent. Almost too tall, in Claudia’s opinion. From what she could make out at a distance, he was bald. His face appeared to be almost comically wide and dimensionless, contrasting starkly with the long brown cloak that shrouded his entire form, covering everything from chin to feet. 

There was something odd about him, but she didn’t much care to find out what. In a series of small, rapid movements, Claudia closed the distance between herself and the group and flatly ignored the mildly irritated glance the Doctor gave her when she accidentally stepped on the back of his shoe on the way up the stairs.

When they got to the correct door, Rose let herself in without the slightest hesitation. “Mum?”

“Rose!” Rose’s mother, Jackie, a rotund woman with blonde hair similar to her daughter’s, poked her head out from a bedroom just off the side of the short hall. She beamed at the younger woman and immediately drew her into a hug. “Oh, I was just wondering when you’d turn up.” 

She released her from the hug and held her at arm's length.

“Four months,” she accused. “It’s been four months. You said ten bloody seconds. Not that I actually believed that, but four bleeding months.”

“I didn’t lie,” Rose scoffed, taken slightly aback by the confrontation. “It’s a time machine, we could’ve been back in ten seconds.”

“But you weren’t,” the older woman snipped back. “Instead you leave me sitting here… on my own... for months at a time. When it comes to that long, I start wondering if you’re going to come back at all.” 

Despite Jackie’s snide tone, the real emotions behind it were plain. She was lonely and worried for her daughter’s safety; terrified that one day Rose wouldn’t come back, and she’d be left with nothing.

Claudia felt a flicker of jealousy and longing, trying to imagine what it would be like to have someone worrying over her that way. For all she knew, there was. Someone could be waiting for her to come home.

But that almost made her feel worse.

“What’re you all still doing crowding my doorway?” Jackie scolded, redirecting her energy into something a little more friendly. “In or out. Hold on…” Claudia blushed slightly upon realizing that she was now at the center of the group’s attention. Jackie’s eyes were lighter than her daughter’s, more hazel than brown. In them was a maternal glint, coupled with an appraising air. “Who’re you, then?”

“That’s Claudia,” Rose answered for her. “She’s staying on the TARDIS for a bit.”

A bit? Claudia wondered. Where else would I go?

She shuddered at the thought and returned her attention to Jackie, who had wheeled around to confront the Doctor.

“Oh, snatched up another one, have you?” Jackie accused, hands on her hips. “Just like a man. One’s not enough, is it? You’ve just got to surround yourself with pretty young women. You might as well collect them.”

“Nice to see you, too, Jackie,” The Doctor snipped sarcastically as he moved around her to get into the sitting room. 

The Tyler residence was homey, if not on the small side. There were a few magazines laid to the side on the coffee table, full of celebrities and pop culture pieces. Claudia took a place on the edge of the couch and picked up one of the magazines, flipping through to see if anything seemed familiar.

Rose found a seat at the small dining table while Jackie immediately began bustling about making tea. The older woman didn’t stop talking for a moment, even while juggling multiple tea cups. Claudia immediately jumped back up to her feet and hopped into the kitchen to take a couple of the cups before Jackie could drop them.

“Anything I can do to help?” Claudia offered with a simple, kind smile. 

Jackie nodded and directed Claudia in pouring milk and distributing sugar while the Doctor plucked out one of the newspapers on the dinner table and flipped through it idly, opting to stay standing. 

Mickey naturally flopped down next to Rose. The young man produced the remote and switched on the tv, settling on a sports channel.

“... your birthday, though, Rose,” Jackie was bickering in her shrill voice. “I’ve got the shopping done an’ everything…”

“Really, mum. You shouldn’t have bothered…”

“I’ve got the cake in the fridge and the rest of the dinner’s ‘bout halfway finished…”

“Mum…”

“Now, I haven’t got any guests together yet. Not that I could, though, could I? What, with your track record… “

“Mum, we don’t need guests… “

“... it was lucky you turned up in the right decade. We could call Shareen, I suppose.” Jackie grimaced. “On second thought, best not. Doubt she’d come, anyhow.”

“Why not?” Rose inquired, blinking in mild alarm. “She’s my best mate.”

“Was, last I heard,” Jackie corrected, looking the slightest bit smug. “She got married, and you were nowhere to be found.”

“Married?” Rose echoed, voice hoarse with shock. “But… she can’t have.”

“Two months ago.”

“But she’s only…”

“Twenty.” The older woman fixed her daughter with a slightly disapproving glance. “She came around looking for you six months back. Wanted you as a bridesmaid. I told her that you were still off travelling but she wasn’t having it. ‘If she doesn’t want to be part of it, so be it’, she said...”

Rose stood blankly while her mother rattled on, flippantly dictating the destruction of the younger girl’s friendship. Claudia tried to keep her attention on an article about makeup, but she couldn’t help but see how Rose’s bottom lip trembled as she drew in a quivering breath.

It was a piteous sight, so much that Claudia was glad when the Doctor, who was oblivious to his blonde friend’s distress, interrupted. 

“What’s this about, then?” He inquired, holding up the newspaper he’d been looking through so it displayed an article about halfway through the paper.

The header read; Third Disappearance on the Powell Estate.

“Oh, that?” Jackie shrugged. “Yeah, word has it that a few people have gone missing. Police have no idea.”

“They’ve already passed by my place twice to ask questions,” Mickey complained. “A few drunk blokes go missing, and who do they turn to? The black guy.”

“Oh, come on Mickey,” Jackie scoffed. “They’re just on you because…”

“Because of all the times they questioned me back when Rose was missing,” Mickey said bitterly. “I almost lost my job, you know.”

The Doctor coughed to break the tense silence that followed. Claudia, who had been fidgeting nervously in the background, couldn’t help but let out a soft sigh of relief when the Doctor decisively threw the newspaper down on the coffee table.

“Well, while we’re here…”

“Oh, no you don’t!” Jackie cut him off, waving a warning finger under his nose. “Don’t you dare go swannin’ off! It’s Rose’s birthday and I’m not having you start all that ridiculous nonsense before we’ve even had time to cut the cake!”

“I don’t swan,” the Doctor retorted.

Before Jackie could respond, Rose stepped between the pair. 

“Don’t start!” She glanced at the Doctor and shot him a tiny grin that she thought her mother couldn’t see, her previous melancholy evaporating like mist. She turned back to Jackie. “Dinner’s not ready yet.”

“Rose,” Jackie pleaded, crossing her arms across her chest.

“You and Mickey finish getting everything ready, and by the time you’re done, we’ll be back and we’ll all have a proper sit down. Alright?”

“Why can’t I come help investigate?” Mickey complained. “I helped before with the Slitheen, remember?”

“Well...” the Doctor drawled. “Pressing a few buttons hardly makes you qualified for— ”

“What he means to say is,” Rose interrupted, fixing Mickey with her cute little tongue-in-teeth grin, “it’s probably nothing, anyway. We’ll go poke around a bit and be back before you know it, alright? I’m sure mum could use all the help she can get.”

Mickey gave a disbelieving scoff, but backed down, flopping back onto his place on the couch.

Rose wheeled back around to beam at the Doctor. “Shall we?”

The Doctor grinned back and offered her his hand to take. “Now then, Rose Tyler…”

He broke off suddenly, blood draining from his face when his eyes rested on Claudia, who had instinctively started to move to follow them. In the emotional turmoil of the past ten minutes or so, everyone - including Claudia - had forgotten she was there.

The Doctor’s eyes darted away, fixating on a framed picture of a little blonde girl as he dropped Rose’s hand in favor of rubbing his ear lobe between his forefinger and thumb. “Claudia, why don’t you, just… stay here for a bit. Help Jackie and Mickey.”

Claudia nodded and picked up another magazine, thumbing through and pretending to examine a page to hide any emotion that might have shown on her face. 

The young woman rolled the corner of a page between her fingers until it curled in on itself, feeling sheepish at her somewhat needy urge to follow them about like a lost dog.

“Well, that’s them, then,” Jackie sighed when they’d gone, leaning back against the wall. Her face had lost some of its color,  “First time I’ve seen her in months and she runs off again first thing.”

“Tell me about it,” Mickey grumbled. “But that’s us, I guess.”

“That’s us,” Jackie agreed ruefully before turning her attention to Claudia. She studied the younger woman for a moment, her gaze warmer than before. “What’s your story, then?”

“My story?” Claudia echoed. “I’ve only known them for a day.”

“Yeah, but how did you end up wound up in this? The Doctor, I mean,” Mickey clarified. “I got kidnapped by a vat of living plastic.”

“And my daughter ran off with an alien,” Jackie added sourly.

Claudia blinked at them, trying to mentally work out the presented scenarios. Mickey slapped her shoulder good-naturedly. 

“Come on, then. You’re part of the club now.”

“Club? What club?”

“The ‘I-Survivied-the-Doctor Club.’” A cheeky grin ate its way across his face. “We should get shirts.”

Jackie snorted and went into the kitchen. “Ah, but first, you two shift. We’ve got work to do. Come help me with roast and tell us about yourself.”

[joekabox]

I just watched Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna

I’m writing this while my thoughts are fresh, so I just want to say these may not be my final thoughts on the film. Sometimes a film takes a little while to fully hit me, and this is just my thoughts immediately after watching said film.

Spoilers below, and a lot of text. I had a lot to say, sorry. I also apologize if its a little rambley, that’s kind of just how my brain works. Anyway...

Going into the film, I heard mixed reviews from various sources. From some, I heard the film was bad, from others, that it was good, but from most, that it was just okay. Nothing horrible, nothing great, but an okay film. 

I’m not sure where I sit, presently, but perhaps I’ll come to an idea by the end of this review.

The film is very well put together. Unlike Tri, and arguably the last bit of Adventure and a good portion of Adventure 02, Last Evolution felt like a cohesive plot, beginning to end. It knew what it wanted to be, and it did it. There wasn’t a point where I felt confused about what was happening, and unlike Tri, it didn’t throw in random elements that went unexplained from 02 and proceed to leave them unexplained. I think the closest we get is a shot of Sora, alone, with her Digivice turned to stone with little explanation as to what happened, but honestly, I think we can all agree we know what was happening, just putting together the scenes the film showed us earlier of her and Piyomon together. She was hit first, and while the film didn’t hold our hand on her journey, her journey acted as a vehicle to drive us towards the ending of this film, and I appreciate it.

Every emotional scene hits, every action scene is well executed. The animation is fresh and new, but evokes the original style in a way that isn’t exact but certainly close enough. I think that was maybe a good choice, given the theme of the film itself. 

In tone, it isn’t just a sad waterworks of a story the entire way through like Tri tried to be, but instead one loaded with emotional weight but enough pep and action to keep it feeling upbeat most of the time.

Overall, I liked watching this movie. I felt compelled to keep watching, and the opening scene of the film is just a love letter to Adventure as a whole. I honestly forgot it was only an hour and a half long as I got engaged with the story, as it never feels slow but every scene has weight and depth to it.

This film seems to care far more about the characters and drive of the story than Tri did, and by that I mean it didn’t try fixing all the flaws of the original, but simply let them rest. I think that might have been intentional, as this movie really felt like a ‘good bye’ to the series. The entire plot was about putting Adventure to rest, after all.

Now for the bad stuff.

This film really missed the chance to introduce Biomerging to the Adventure mythos via Taichi and Yamato, and while it gave that honor to the antagonist of the film, it didn’t seem to bother with the protagonists, probably because people seem to cringe when some fans even mention the concept of humans turning into Digimon.

Tamers gave us the concept of Biomerging to drive home the idea that a tamer and their Digimon partner had a bond beyond just friendship, and while perhaps ham-fisted, was a great visual metaphor. Last Evolution seemed to have a subtle buildup to this same core idea, but when push came to shove, we have Agumon and Gabumon becoming very humanoid versions of their Greymon and Garurumon forms respectively, meanwhile Taichi and Yamato just sit on their shoulders and pantomime their actions. I’m deeply curious if the initial idea was to biomerge them, but they bailed last second, but I digress.

This film also seems to continue the trend of just not caring about 02, but less so. While I will 100% give this film credit for not only including the 02 cast but also giving them a plot within the film, they didn’t really feel connected to the rest of the characters, not even towards Hikari or Takeru, who they spent the entire length of a show with. They just sort of feel like sidekicks to the Adventure cast, and not their own characters. We never even get Imperialdramon, despite Imperialdramon being shown to be at least on par with Omegamon in abilities, if not slightly surpassing them.

And, my biggest complaint, and one that probably isn’t a surprise: the time limit on having a Digimon partner makes little sense when looking at the rest of the mythos. In 02, we are shown the character of Oikawa, who’s entire narrative is a lifelong goal to go to the Digital World like him and his late best friend always dreamed of, and relies on children to aide him because he’s a grown man (if I recall correctly). From that alone, it seems like the ‘adults can’t have Digimon partners’ angle makes sense...except it doesn’t, because in the last bit of the show, Oikawa finally does make it to the Digital World, and what awaits him on the other side? His chosen Digimon partner, who waited this entire time to meet them, having dreamed of the day Oikawa would one day visit the Digital World.

While I suppose the ‘grown ups don’t have Digimon’ bit isn’t necessarily unsupported, it feels like an unnecessary plot device. The only saving grace I think it has, beyond making for an engaging and emotionally impactful film, is that several points of the film suggest this may not be the final say. Gennai makes an off handed comment about the possibility of delaying it, and there’s a constant message of “well see each other again.” While that may be just a hopeful thing to say in the face of sadness, much as one often says such things to a dying loved one, a producer of Last Evolution has stated that the film does, in fact, line up with the established Adventure canon, including the ending of 02, which specifically states that not only do Taichi and Yamato have their Digimon partners, but that everyone gets a Digimon partner. 

If this film really is intended to be canon with the finale of 02, and that Agumon and Gabumon will one day return, then I feel this film simply cared more about its narrative of growing up and moving on than anything, and honestly...I don’t think that’s horrible, in retrospect. This film, as mentioned, had a very cohesive plot, and a very strong story it was trying to tell, and it did it well. At no point did I feel anything was done to punish the audience or throw a kink in the hose, if you will.

The worst aspects of Tri (which I keep comparing this film to, sorry), were its insistence to cut away from 02, correct things done wrong in the lore of Adventures past, and tell an ultimately disheartening and sad message of “sometimes bad things happen and it sucks and there’s no good side about it, but we must move on.” Last Evolution has a similar message of “sometimes bad things happen and it sucks,” but it goes on to say “but that doesn’t really matter, given all the good times we had, does it?” It doesn’t make you feel bad for having invested time into people and things you care about.

While Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna was not perfect, and not the sendoff I wanted, it was okay. It was a love letter to the series, and it had a great deal of depth to it I’ve not seen in an Adventure story since my childhood, and at no point did it make me wish it hadn’t happened...and honestly I think that’s exactly perfect. That is exactly the message it was trying to convey.

At the end of the day, perhaps Agumon and Gabumon are gone, for now, but just because they left, it doesn’t mean they took their memory with them.

To quote the translated lyrics of Butterfly, by the late Koji Wada, which began each episode of the original Adventure:

“After an endless dream, in this miserable world That's right, maybe not using common sense isn't so bad after all Even with these awkward wings, dyed with images that seem to stay I'm sure we can fly, on my love”

[r-ahh-mi]

All of the Above, All My Love.

Pairing: Merriell Shelton x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Despite the mutual agreement to be in an open relationship, reader is beginning to have some regrets about sharing the very man they love.

Warnings: Angstyyy! but cute.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: This was requested by @sherlollydramoine and she wanted a fic based off of the song Bet My Heart by Maroon 5. So, this is what I made. This is only my second time writing for Merriell so I hope this isn’t too funky. Enjoy! xx

-

“You can’t be serious Mer. You can’t-I can’t believe you would do that with someone like her.”

Though Merriell was quick to reach out for your arm, you were much more quick in jerking your body away--as far away as it could get within a second's notice.

“Don’t ya’ pull away from me like that baby. C’mon now.”

“Don’t Merriell. I swear to god don’t you dare fucking touch me ever again.”

Merriell chuckled, “Don’t say things ya surely don’t mean darlin’.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, as if that would convey how seriously upset you were with him. Though he was still joking around and not seeing the full gravity of the situation that much as true.

“So you don’t think i’m serious? How’s this for fucking serious.” With that, you headed for the bedroom that had shortly become shared between the two of you despite neither of you formally stating that you were living with one another. It just sort of happened because you enjoyed the others company..so much so that you were basically living with one another and had been for the past month or so.

Merriell followed swiftly and couldn’t keep that smirk off of his face as he enjoyed watching your little tantrums that you’d often pull, but when he saw you digging through various drawers and picking up items that were yours from his bedroom floor and tossing them into a bag, that’s when he began to go into crisis mode.

“Wha-What’s all this. Stop kiddin’ round babe.”

“I’m not kiddin’ round,” you spoke in a mocking tone similar to Merriell’s thick accent. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Merriell began combing his hands through his hair as he mentally wracked his brain for what had happened within the last minute, hours, days; something that would clue him into why you were acting this way, especially threatening with something as serious as moving your things out of his home. Something he didn’t let just anyone do. Come to think of it, he had never let any of his prior flings or hookups do it before.

“Ju--I--Baby--I.” He was struggling to find the words as his breath began to feel heavy in his chest. You couldn’t leave. This wasn’t real, this isn't happening. Surely this was some sick joke.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I can’t deal with those other people Merriell. I can’t share you anymore...I know we agreed whatever it is we have would be open to other people, but-”

At this, Merriell could feel the heat spring up from his chest and shoot out his nostrils in anger. 

“You mean ta’ tell me you’re upset about somethin that we had a mutual agreement on?”

You were much too emotional to say a word or confess how this arrangement had really started to bother you and leave you sad and feeling used. So, you just continued stuffing anything in your bag that belonged to you and doing so as quickly as possible. But Merriell wasn’t a cold hearted person, regardless of the anger and confusion and sadness he was feeling right now. 

“Talk ta me baby, please.” Merriell pleaded with sorrow dripping off of his tongue as he went from his standing, cross armed position to kneeling down right next to your body.

“Please.”

You didn’t stop your furious packing until Merriell placed a hand on top of yours. You lacked the energy to push his hand away and keep on keeping on, but you also found comfort in the person whose palm was warming up the top of your hand. You only want to be comforted by someone you care deeply for and feel very comfortable with, and that person just happened to be the human being who was also making you feel like shit.

“What do you want.”

“Ta’ fuckin’ talk to me. You’re not makin’ any sense ri’ now.”

Deep down, you were well aware you were being ridiculous, but this option to just pick up, run away, and forget this person who had impacted you in such a vast way was the simplest way to break things off. Talking about it would just make you more upset and that would, in turn, make Mer upset which was the furthest thing you want.

“I just can’t do this anymore Merriell. I can’t keep seeing you with these other people and them touching you like I would touch you and feeling you like I would feel you. I don’t want to share you anymore--I want you all to myself.”

Your body had begun to crumple as your once seated form began to sprawl out--legs fully stretched out and slightly spread. Merriell couldn’t resist but to coddle your head to his chest--seeing you like this was hurting him much more than he had ever thought possible, especially knowing that he was the reason you were feeling this broken.

“I’ll do it.”

“Do what.”

Your tears began to dry up slightly as you twisted your body and moved your head away from the warmth of Merr’s chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll give 'em up. If that’s what ya want--I’ll do it. Just please stop packin’ ya shit up.”

Your heart had begun to calm down, the heaving that was once a visible movement in your chest was starting to slow and go back to a regular, even pace as you tried to process what exactly Merriell was saying to you.

“Merriell please don’t. I know that’s not what you want that’s why you wanted to have an open relationship in the first place-”

“And what if I changed ma’ mind.”

At this you fell silent as your sniffles were the only thing to take up space in Merriell’s tiny bedroom that had stained carpet and torn, old wall paper littering the paper thin walls. Yet this small and mediocre place had started to feel like your home and started to be filled up with pleasant memories that you shared with him.

Several minutes were coming and going, passing quickly as you both just stayed in the company of each other without saying a word because this is what felt safe. Right now, you were at ease even in the slightest bit knowing that Merr was willing to have you and you alone and be wholly satisfied with that. More words could mess things up, regardless of you knowing this was something that needed to be properly talked about, but right now silence would do.

Merriell seemed to understand and feel the exact same way as you. His body wanted to be as close to you as possible as he adjusted your body so it sat between his seated, spread legs. He wrapped both arms around you and gently swayed, as if he was cradling a fussy newborn baby and trying to appease them with a soothing movement that was familiar and comforting.

“Ya don’ need ta talk. Jus’ listen.” He said as he placed one more kiss to the top of your head full of hair.

“I know-I know what we talked about when we first started this and I know that I said I wanted an open relationship, but that was before I started feeling these things for ya’ baby you hafta’ understand.”

“What things?”, You said abruptly, causing Merr to hold in his breath for a second longer than usual.

“I-Fuck I-I don’t fully understand them, but-but baby i’m scared. I’m so scared of how much I care for you because I don’t want you to hurt me-I never wanted anyone to hurt me so I thought keeping things open would allow that small space between me and them.”

“Oh Merriell,” you quickly spun around to wrap your arms around his neck and, this time cradle his head to your chest as you rested your weight on your knees. “I care for you too baby that’s why i’m-”

“Why ya’ so upset?”

“Yes, yes exactly,” you nodded. “I would never, ever hurt you baby. I-I love you too much to do that to you.”

Those words came out accompanied with several stammers, but you figured now was as good as any to say those heartfelt words that you’d been wanting to roll off your tongue to him. 

Now, it was time for the aftermath.

You felt Merriell’s body stiff up as he pulled his head out from your hands and looked up at your form that was usually much shorter than his.

“So ya love me now?” His face was plain as he looked up at you with eyes that were gently touched with moisture as the bags beneath began to grow red.

You nodded slowly in response as you tried to weigh how this could go well and  how this could go utterly wrong. In the odd chance that he felt the same way, his reaction would be good and joyful. On the other hand, if he were to not reciprocate the feelings you had just shared, you would be doing just what you were doing before. Sobbing and packing your bags in an attempt to get far, far away from this stupid town and the man who caused these stupid thoughts of love to fill your head.

Suddenly, Merriell’s straight lined lips upturned at the corners and created a beautiful smirk as his hands enveloped themselves around your waist.

“Guess ya could say the feelings’ mutual then.”

 At that, Merriell began digging the tips of his fingers deep into the depths of your hips, sending tickles that ran up and down your neck as your body began to squirm underneath his touch. 

“Merriell Shelton stop!”

“Hmmm kiss me.”

“What?,” you squealed.

“I said kiss me and tell me you love me again.”

His movements slowly began to cease as you regained your composure and looked down at the man who was looking at you with an awe in his eyes like you were the most beautiful landmark he could ever see in his life.

You began to lean down so your face was level with his as Merriell’s fingers began to dance up from your hips to the back of your neck until your lips crashed with one another--the action was rough and harsh like a car crash, but easy and slow once you got to the place were your lips melted together and moved like it was what they were born to do.

“I love you baby’” 

The words were caught between yours and his lips, but despite the mashing, you would recognize that accent anywhere.

“And I love you Merriell Shelton.”

-

Tag: @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury @amcquivey @sherlollydramoine @rami-malek-trash @ramimedley @rawmemalek​ @xmxisxforxmaybe​

[tirednotflirting]

hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you (and i will hold on to you)

part two to but we were something, don’t you think so?

because I actually cannot stand leaving something too open ended. enjoy.

and if you want it, check it out on ao3 here

It’s a freezing cold, early Tuesday morning when Luke sees Ashton for the first time since the almost (but not quite) meeting at the stoplight at the edge of campus.

(This time it’s been 5 months and 4 days since he last saw Ashton. Back then his hair was longer and his attire was hardly weather appropriate. Luke had been paralyzed by memories and a thousand different what if possibilities, none of which had come true.)

It had been quite a hectic morning up to that point. Luke’s alarm had failed to go off (again) and it's the last day he’ll be meeting for his Advanced Linear Algebra course and it’s pretty vital that he make it to that lecture so he knows what to focus on for the final they’re having the next week. He rushes around the apartment, cursing Calum silently for not waking him. He knows it isn’t his roommate’s responsibility to keep track of Luke’s oversleeping habit but they’ve been living together for two years now and Luke has definitely had to wake Calum up to get to exams on time before. 

He rushes through an augmented version of his morning routine, quickly brushing his teeth and shoving a beanie over his bedhead curls, momentarily thankful for the cold that required something to cover his ears. He trips over himself as he pulls on a pair of jeans while shoving his textbooks and journals into his backpack. On his way out the door, Luke hastily locks it since he isn’t sure if Calum ended up back in his bedroom the night before or if he stayed with Michael again. He skips waiting for the elevator to race down the stairs and out the front door of his complex.

He’s finished running the first block when he feels his phone buzz and he’s already winded so he figures stopping for a quick second to check the message (likely one from Calum if he is home to ask why Luke slammed the front door) wouldn’t hurt. Only the notification wasn’t a text, it was an email from Luke’s professor.

My wife and I caught some bug over the weekend so class today will be canceled. I am sad to miss our last meeting but please feel free to come with any questions to my extended office hours later this week. Attached is the concept guide for the final I planned to go over today. Happy studying.

Luke takes a deep breath in through the nose and imagines the air he can see from the cold after exhaling to be all of the anger he feels at having to rush through the apartment for nothing. He considers for a moment just turning around and getting in some more rest since his next class isn’t until 3. But he’s got the study guide now and he is (unfortunately) awake, so he starts toward the university still but figures he can reward himself for not going back home with a coffee from the shop just off campus. 

Though tired still, Luke walks briskly to the shop since he had only grabbed his cardigan that he leaves hanging by the door since he couldn’t be bothered to hunt around for his coat. Especially so because he’s pretty sure it may still be in the back of Michael’s car anyway. He doesn’t live too far from campus though so soon enough, he’s pushing against the door to enter the warm shop. 

He’s always loved this place. The exposed brick and odd collection of thrift store comfy chairs and tables make the shop look like a scene out of a TV show about college or something and Luke lives for any cheesy college experience he can get. He especially loves it there in the winter, when he knows he can step inside with a bright red nose and immediately be enveloped with a cinnamon scented warmth that the chain places could only ever dream of achieving. 

He steps to the counter and orders one of the seasonal lattes to have in a mug rather than a to go cup and after providing his name and paying the kind, blushing girl at the register, he turns to find a spot to cozy up in for the next few hours.

And that’s when he locks eyes with Ashton.

His hair is shorter and red now, like the color on a candy cane but deeper and it matches the blush currently spread across his cheeks. He’s at one of the bigger tables, surrounded by several textbooks and journals. His glasses sit on the edge of his nose, threatening to fall onto the pages in front of him. The dark sweater he has on is the kind that makes his hazel eyes appear a bit darker around the edges. 

Luke’s attention is briefly drawn away from him when he hears his name called from the counter and he jumps just slightly and before quickly turning to go get the mug, he swears he sees a smirk play at the edges of Ashton’s lips. 

He reaches the counter and thanks the barista and when he turns back, Ashton is standing right in front of him and it takes everything in Luke to not drop the mug of sugary coffee. His momentary observation about Ashton’s eyes is emphasized further now that they stand only a couple feet away from one another, the closest they’ve been physically in nearly 18 months.

“Would you like to join me at my table?” Ashton asks, the words coming out quick but with a tone of hesitation, as though his brain was fighting against his lips on whether or not to ask. 

Luke had imagined a moment almost exactly like this a million different ways. Only recently had he given up on the idea of ever running into him again, of being asked to join him for a meeting that would become another big, Hollywood produced moment in Luke’s memory. However, in every one of those fantasies that Luke had allowed to play out in his mind, he had failed to factor in what it would feel like to hear the forgotten voice of a lost love. He felt like he had been betrayed by his own memories because the voice he had been hearing as he tried to sleep wasn’t the exact tone or depth of what he had just heard again. 

After a moment, Luke releases the breath he hadn’t even realized he had been holding in as he speaks just one word. “Yes.”

He follows Ashton back to the table, letting his bag fall off his shoulder to gently land at the floor and sets his mug down a safe distance from the big, scary law textbooks Ashton has opened up on the table. He takes a seat but keeps his feet tucked below his chair, worried that any direct physical contact might cause a forest fire or something. “Are you already studying for the bar then?”

Ashton’s brows shoot up as he takes his place on the opposite side of the table. “Oh, um yes,” he nods quickly, a faint blush still painted on his cheeks. “I’m taking the exam at the beginning of June but I haven’t taken a look at some of this stuff in ages, you know?”

Luke nods slowly, remembering the times they would lie in bed together after Ashton had been accepted to their university’s law program and Luke would run his fingers up and down his back while listening to Ashton speak excitedly about far off exams and internships. He had told him all about it because Luke was supposed to be there, cheering him on while he read and interpreted case files. A lot had changed. 

He’s pulling his textbook out of his bag and setting it on the table while trying to think of more to say when Ashton speaks first. “Linear Algebra? Were you able to get into Henderson’s course? I know you always talked about him like he was a rock star during registration week.”

Luke’s throat feels dry and he’s wondering if this is all maybe actually a dream. Like maybe he’ll wake up in a few minutes to the alarm he thought he missed this morning and this is all just his subconscious playing a really cruel joke on him. “Yeah, our last lecture was meant to be this morning but he’s sick and,” Luke pauses for a moment and takes another deep breath and sip of his drink and realizes he cannot make small talk with someone who used to be his entire world. “Ashton, what’s going on?”

Ashton licks his lips before opening his mouth as though to respond but Luke cuts him off. “You dumped me with no warning at all because you were worried about making his law thing work and now you’re inviting me to sit with you while you study for the bar and my head is spinning.”

“I miss you.”

“Wha-”

“And I know that’s bullshit and I know it's been like a year and a half and I know that I saw you in the summer and I didn’t say anything and that was probably the worst thing I’ve ever done,” he speaks quickly, something like panic at the edge of his words. “I let my insecurity get the best of me. I convinced myself I wasn’t going to be good enough at this and that I would have to spend all my time working on all of this and that I wouldn’t have enough time left to treat you the way you deserve to be treated. I was so scared of us turning into an afterthought in my mind.”

“So rather than talking to me you just ended it so we wouldn’t have to be a thought at all?” Luke scoffs. 

“I wanted to give you the world. I wanted you to be my world. Nothing less than that seemed worthy. And if I wasn’t going to be able to give that to you, I didn’t want to keep you from the possibility of finding someone who could.”

“Damn it, Ashton,” Luke shakes his head and checks around for people looking to make sure his volume is controlled. “All I wanted was you. Fuck, all I want is you.”

“Even now?” the red headed boy whispers, his eyes just a touch glossy. “Even after July?”

Luke feels a burning at his eyes and immediately blames the cold wind, despite being inside for nearly 15 minutes now. “July ripped my heart apart in a way that I had never felt before. And in a way, I think it was what I needed. Like, it had a sense of finality to it. And I’ve been doing better. But that doesn’t change the fact that I would turn the entire world upside down for you. For us.”

They’re both quiet for a few minutes after that. Luke takes a few more sips of his drink and watches the steam rise from the mug in between each one. Eventually he looks past the steam to where Ashton sits as he takes Luke in. Like he’s trying to see into his thoughts. Eventually he clears his throat and runs a hand through the red tousled curls.

“When I saw you in July, I didn’t say anything because I felt like nothing I could say to you would fix anything. That my trying to fix anything would be like trying to get the toothpaste back in the tube, ya know? But when I got home, I called my therapist and I just told her everything. I had never talked to her about us before because I was too scared of being judged. And when I told her that she told me it was pretty possible that the way I ended things was for the same reason. And so all semester I was trying to find a way to run into you again. And I guess the universe picked for that to happen today.”

“I just wanted to support you. Just wanted to love you,” Luke shakes his head, a sad smile pulling delicately at his cheeks.

“And I was so scared to let you.”

“Would you let me now?” Luke asks and hopes there’s less desperation in his voice than what he senses there to be. “Would you let me take care of you a bit? In the way you always did for me?”

Hesitantly, Ashton lifts his arm from where it’s been resting at this side and reaches a hand out over the papers taking up his half of the tablespace. “I’d love nothing more.”

Luke reaches a hand up and intertwines their fingers while his gaze stays locked with Ashton’s. He lets out a breathy giggle when Ashton moves to rub his thumb in small patterns on Luke’s palm, the blonde’s eyes dropping to where they rest. The hazel eyed boy smiles. “I know this conversation isn’t over and we really do have a lot of ground to cover. But I don’t ever want to go another day without making you laugh.”

Luke’s eyes widen, wondering if Ashton felt the weight of his words in the same way Luke did. But then he looks up from their hands to Ashton’s face again, only to find him nodding with understanding. Slowly, he lets his feet drop from where they’ve pulled below his chair and he feels his boots knock against Ashton’s. Neither make a move to change the position though. Luke bites his lip briefly in thought before replying. “I feel exactly the same.”

The rest of the morning and early afternoon are spent catching up in a way that should have felt strange, given that they were describing their day to day life to someone who they used to start and end every single one with. But it felt easy and it felt right and Ashton had been correct that they needed to sit down and talk through the hard stuff but there was always tomorrow (and every day after that). When it finally got to the time Luke needed to make his way over to the math department for his next class, Ashton offers to walk with him. As they continue conversation on their walk across the campus, Luke can’t help but notice how the whole scene feels like watching an old, beloved movie after not seeing it for a few years. Everything feels so familiar but there’s a new meaning to it, one that couldn’t be seen the first time around. 

When they reach the doors to the building, they stop just before the steps, their hands still tangled together between them. “Would you let me make you dinner tonight? I’ve got the stuff for that pasta thing you always liked and a bottle of red?” 

Luke smirks and lifts a brow, teasingly. “You drink red wine? Proper law student now, huh?” Ashton rolls his eyes but squeezes his palm against Luke’s. “But yes, that sounds nice. What’s the gate code?”

“Still the same.”

Luke lets out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you kept your gate code as your ex’s birthday?”

Ashton shrugs, a grin spreading across his own cheeks. “Listen, I knew I would never forget the code that way.”

Luke blushes, the whole day finally feeling real with that response because it was such an Ashton thing to do. Maybe they did still know each other. “I’ll see you later, Ash.”

“See you soon, Luke.”

They part ways then and Luke makes his way up the steps. He’s just about to reach for the door when something buried deep his mind tells him to turn around. And when he does, their eyes lock again and small matching smiles pull at their lips. And now Luke knows, he never has to worry about Ashton not looking back again.

*

[gilbertandanne]

An (Un)Fortunate Lily Maid

A/N: Still working on the modern AU, but since I’m all up in my feels over season three still, I wanted to write a little post S3 one shot.  Takes place four months after the 3.10 finale.

Characters: Anne Shirley Cuthbert; Gilbert Blythe

Relationship: Anne Shirley Cuthbert/Gilbert Blythe

Rating: PG

Word Count: 5,345

Also located on AO3

-

Nearly four months after she first stepped into the next chapter of her life, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert was finally back home.  Even though it was only for a few short weeks, she was grateful that would be able to spend more than one or two fleeting nights in her dear gable room.  Charlottetown was only a short train ride away, a fact that she was continuously grateful for because whenever missing her dear family simply became too much to bear, she’d use some of her travel fund to return home.

Not that she didn’t love Queen’s and all it afforded her.

In fact, she enjoyed it far more than she imagined she would.  Her homesickness was curbed for the most part due to the fact that most of her former classmates were there as well.  Most of the time, she could imagine that they were all back in the old schoolhouse, learning about things well outside the standardized curriculum from one of her greatest inspirations: her dear, Miss Stacy.

Inadvertently, she’d be pulled from her reverie by the ramblings of one professor or another.  It wasn’t that she didn’t like her teachers.  They were all well-esteemed in their own right, but what she wouldn’t give to turn the clock back a year—if only for a day.

The girls had flourished during those first few months in Charlottetown.  There had been a few minor tiffs amongst them over the last few months, which was natural given the fact that they were suddenly living with one another.  Whenever an argument popped up, Anne found herself grateful that she and Diana had yet to have any sort of conflict.  Perhaps their separation last spring afforded them the opportunity to see the bigger picture.  Anne was pleasantly surprised that Diana wasn’t bothered at all by her desire to ‘burn the midnight oil’, so to speak.  Anne spent most of her nights studying, reading, or—whenever the inspiration struck—writing.  Diana told her that she felt an odd sense of comfort in the soft glow of Anne’s lamp.  

As much as she didn’t want to admit it, being back at Green Gables was strange.  She was so used to sharing her room with her best friend that the last few nights without her were a little too quiet.  She was used to the girls’ raucous giggling and constant plotting on ways to skirt around Mrs. Blackmore’s rules.  To her credit, Anne abstained from most of their antics.  She had changed.  She wasn’t the same girl who snuck out in the middle of the night to dance around a fire or drink moonshine with the rest of her class.  No, she was too preoccupied with making the best marks she could so that, hopefully, she’d earn a scholarship and alleviate the financial burden of her education from her adopted parents.

Not to mention the fact that staying busy also helped her to miss him less.

Toronto wasn’t nearly as far away as Paris, but it might as well have been.

Anne wrote to him nearly every other day and given the frequency of the letters she received from him, she supposed that he had found a way to maintain the same pace.  She told him all about her quest to find her lineage and all that she discovered about her biological parents in the book Marilla and Matthew retrieved from Mrs. Thomas.  In return, Gilbert told her all about his studies, his new group of friends, and how Dr. Emily Oak had become his mentor.  Whenever Anne visited home, she’d report back to Gilbert on how Bash and Delphine were doing—although she was certain that he and Bash frequently wrote to one another.  She kept him up to date on all of the misadventures of their friends and assured him that she managed to stay out of mischief—for the most part.

It was almost as if he were there with her, but—she constantly had to remind herself—he wasn’t.  In fact, while she still had several follow-up questions from that fateful day outside of her boarding house, she had only ever asked a select few.  The most vital ones, the ones that had practically driven her mad, she never inquired about.  What if it had all been a dream?  She had pinched herself in the midst of it all, but had that been enough to ensure that her imagination hadn't invaded reality?  He never once said that he loved her, only that he had feelings for her.  Winifred was certain that his feelings for Anne were classified as love—she had even used that exact word in her explanation to Anne—but hearing it from someone else wasn’t the same as hearing it directly from the source.  He hadn’t once spoken of his feelings in any of his letters, so Anne held back, took his lead, and kept her correspondence light.

After all, they would be miles apart for God only knew how long.  A lot could change in that time.

Perhaps, it already had.

Frustrated with her current train of thought, Anne left the warmth of her dear Green Gables.  Maybe the frigid December air would help to clear her mind.  Matthew and Marilla had gone to Carmody for the day to run errands.  Diana and her family were out of town.  Gilbert wouldn’t be home for the holidays and the LaCroix family had gone to Charlottetown for a few days so that Constance and Jocelyn could see Delphine.

A sudden gust of wind immediately sent a chill down her spine; nevertheless, she persisted in her quest to visit her beloved Lake of Shining Waters.  The pond belonged to the Barry’s, but Anne often escaped to the pond to seek inspiration and get out of her own mind for a little while.  She had hoped Christmas in Avonlea would be so hectic that she wouldn’t have time to miss Gilbert Blythe, but everywhere she went, there he was.

Only, he wasn’t.

She half expected the pond to be frozen over by now but was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by its shimmering waters.  She greeted the water with a soft smile.  “At least you haven’t changed.”  It had been a relatively mild winter thus far.  The temperature hadn’t sunk far below freezing until just a few days earlier when the first snow of the season hit her beloved island.

As Anne walked around the pond, she recalled the first time she beheld its beauty.  It prompted her to pinch herself for the first of many times that day.  She couldn’t believe that she could ever live near such an enchanting place.  Even now, as she watched the water shimmer against the snow-covered ground, she stood in awe of this little spot.  As she made her way toward the Barry’s small dock, her gaze shifted to the small dory that rested right on the shore.  “My one regret,” she sighed as she walked toward it.  She was to be Elaine that unfortunate day, but Mrs. Barry stopped them from acting out Tennyson’s tragical tale.  

She bit the inside of her cheek as she glanced at the water before looking back at the small boat.  Granted, it would be more fun if the girls were with her, but Anne was well aware of the fact that she was only allowed a few more years of adolescent fun before she’d finally be forced to grow up.  Even now, she constantly heard that she looked grown up.  Sometimes someone would remark that she was grown up.  “I’m only 16,” she muttered as she inched closer to the small boat.  “Maturation doesn’t happen overnight.”  This could very well be the only chance she had to portray the lily maid.  No one was there to stop her this time.

Her mind made up, she dusted off the small layer of snow in the boat before she nudged it closer to the water.  She shivered as she removed the blanket she had wrapped around herself and laid it down on the boat.  She glanced at her coat.  Elaine certainly did not float down to Camelot in a coat.  “It’ll only be for a few minutes,” she rationalized before she unbuttoned it and sat it on the post next to the dory.  She carefully stepped onto the boat and sat at the edge.  She pushed herself off of the shore before she laid down, eager to coast along the pond.

The gray sky above her darkened as she stared at the clouds above.  It would be dark soon, but the train back from Carmody wouldn’t be at Bright River for a few hours yet.  

A few minutes into her trek, she slowly closed her eyes.  This was exactly what her soul needed: a moment of peace mixed in with a childish flight of fancy.  She smiled softly.  Perhaps, she didn’t have to grow up quite yet.  Just as she took a breath of that sweet Avonlea air, the boat tilted, and a rush of cold water suddenly splashed her from behind.

Anne’s eyes shot open and she immediately sat upright.  Her eyes widened when she realized that the boat must have had a hole in the bottom.  The small dory was quickly sinking and she, a mediocre swimmer at best, was in the middle of the pond.  The LaCroix’s were gone, the Barry’s were gone, and her adopted parents were out of town.  There was no one else around for miles.  

She desperately tried to row herself near one of the edges, but she was so anxious that the only oar she had slipped from her nearly frozen fingers and fell to the murky depths below.  Without another thought, she tried to row with her hands, to no avail.  The boat was simply taking on too much water.

Was this it?  Would this be her untimely end—just as she was on the cusp of the rest of her life?  She briefly hoped Marilla would remember her request to place pink roses on her grave.  She wondered if her loved ones would cry, would remember her fondly in the coming years.   She wondered if Gilbert would be able to come to the funeral, or if he’d even want to.  

When the boat finally dipped below the water line, Anne began to flail around in the frigid water.  As she gasped for air, her thoughts turned to her family.  As badly as she wanted to meet her biological parents, she had hoped she’d be able to spend a little more time with her adopted ones first.  Then, just before her frozen body succumbed to the pull of the lake she had loved for so long, she heard an all too familiar voice call out to her.  She tried to focus her gaze on the rapidly approaching figure, but couldn’t find the energy to.  It was all too much.  When she heard the sweet sound of her name on the caller’s lips once more, she smiled despite her situation.  

At least she got to hear his voice one last time.

~*~

She wasn’t sure how long she had been submerged under the freezing water.  It felt like days, but knew it was merely a few seconds before she felt a rush of air fill her lungs once again.  She gasped before she began to cough up the water from the pond.  She felt herself glide across the water, her frozen limbs securely wrapped around her savior.  Her hair was a drenched, a tangled mess that shielded her vision.  She focused her attention on breathing, on trying not to choke on the water that she continued to cough up.  She couldn’t feel much, only the sharp pang of the freezing water as it pierced her body.  

How could she have been so reckless?

By the time she reached the shore, she supposed that at least half of her body had gone completely numb from the water.  The other half ached from the battle she nearly lost with the pond she so dearly loved.  She couldn’t feel the coldness from the blanket of snow underneath her.  She couldn’t feel her fingers at all, but somehow managed to swipe the hair out of her face as she tried to force air through her lungs.  She focused her vision on the dark grey sky above.  Then, she heard her name once more.  She turned her head toward the sound.

Had she actually died?

She wouldn’t be able to feel it even if she possessed the energy to pinch herself, so she merely stared up at the concerned face that hovered over her.

“Anne, Anne, can you hear me?  Anne, please…nod if you can understand me.”

She slowly nodded, still unsure if she was in Avonlea or if she had been ushered into the next world.  She never thought heaven would look just like Avonlea, but how else would it explain the presence of someone who should be a thousand miles away?

“I’ll be right back,” he assured her before he sprinted away.  Anne shifted her attention back up toward the sky as she tried to steady her rapidly beating heart.  

By the time he returned, she was able to move her lips.  As he wrapped his jacket, as well as a blanket, around her, she tried to focus on her words.  “W-W-W-What are y-y-you d-d-d-oing-g-g—”

He gave her a small smile before he slowly helped her up.  When she stumbled, he made the decision to pick her up and carry her.  “I could ask you the same question,” he answered as he made his way toward the carriage.  “You need to get warm before you catch pneumonia.”

“Not at—not at G-G-Green Gables,” she huffed, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to control her stammer at the moment.  “I don’t want…Matthew…Marilla.”

Gilbert nodded as he helped her in the buggy.  He understood what she meant without needing to explain further.  She didn’t want them to see her so disheveled because then she’d be forced to explain how she ended up in the pond in the first place.  “We’ll go back to my place then.”

Anne shivered in response.    

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he responded before he grabbed the reigns and ushered them toward the Blythe-LaCroix farm.

~*~

Anne had regained feeling in most of her fingers and toes by the time they reached Gilbert’s house.  She was still freezing and drenched head to toe, but maybe she wouldn’t end up with frost bite.

She managed to get into the house without any assistance from the concerned medical student.  As soon as he closed the door behind him, Gilbert hurried toward the fireplace.  “We need to get you warm,” he commented before he turned back to look at her.  He noticed the state of her clothing and took a deep breath.  “You need to change out of those clothes.  They’re soaked.”

Anne glanced down at her appearance.  “But Matthew and Marilla, I—”

“Just…long enough to dry them off,” he clarified.  “Follow me.”

Anne followed him wordlessly up the stairs.  She had been in his house dozens of times, but never once had she ventured upstairs.  Although she couldn’t be certain, she had a feeling exactly where she was headed.  At the mere thought, she shivered.

She lingered in the doorway, even as Gilbert went into—she presumed—his room.  She watched curiously as he pulled a few things from a couple of drawers.  “These will probably be a little loose,” he began as he gestured to the pants in his hands, “So, you can wear these with them,” he reached for a pair of suspenders.  “I…um…if you don’t know how to…” he stopped his movements when he realized just what he was trying to say.  Dear God, was he about to suggest that he could help her put his suspenders on?  He laughed nervously.

“I know,” she answered just as bashfully.  “This wouldn’t…um…this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve worn men’s clothes.”

Gilbert’s head snapped up to look at her.  “What?”

“Um…it was two years ago…when you came back from Trinidad with Bash and my hair was…” she sighed.  “You know what?  Long story…it doesn’t matter.”

Gilbert was definitely curious about what sort of adventure led her to wear men’s clothing.  To be honest, he wanted to know everything he could about her.  He had been curious about the redhead since the day they met, and now, nearly four years later, she still seemed like an enigma most of the time.  “Ok.  Well, I’ll…leave you...to it…I guess.”  He handed her the clothes and gave her a small smile before he walked out of the room and back down the stairs.

Anne looked down at the clothes and sighed.  How did she always end up in these predicaments?

~*~

Even though she had never worn suspenders before, she figured out how to attach them very quickly, much to her relief.  She simply had no other option.  If she couldn’t figure it out, then she would have found something else to cinch the waist of the slightly-too-large-for-her pants.  There was no way she’d ask Gilbert to help her put on clothes—even if those clothes were his.  ‘Oh, if Marillia saw this,’ she cringed before she looked up at herself in the mirror.  She smirked as she slowly examined her appearance.  The clothes were too big on her, but still, she couldn’t help but to admire the fashion.  Miss Stacy was the only other woman she had seen in suspenders and trousers before and while Anne admired the look, she knew she’d never get away with that—at least, while she was still at Queen’s.  Her smile widened as she turned around to get a full look at herself.  Miss Jeannie did say that trousers were the ‘it’ fashion in Paris.  Perhaps the style would make its way overseas and it wouldn’t be so abnormal for a woman to wear them.  Even though she couldn’t forget whose clothes they belonged to, she still found them quite comfortable.  

As she helplessly tried to tame her tangled locks into a single loose braid, she wondered how long it would take for her clothes to dry.  She wasn’t sure if Matthew and Marilla were back yet.  If so, she knew it would still be a little while before they would begin to worry about her.  Still, she hadn’t seen Gilbert since that day outside of her boarding house and she wasn’t entirely sure what the rules were anymore when it came to their relationship.

Besides, she hadn’t expected to see him at all until next spring.  She thought she still had a few more months of self-doubt to process before she was forced to pretend that she hadn’t thought about those stolen moments every single day since he left.  She reached for her wet clothes.  If her need for adventure hadn’t gotten in the way, she’d be curled up with a book in the safe confines of her room instead of sporting Gilbert Blythe’s clothes in his bedroom.

‘You’ll learn one day,’ she told herself as she walked toward the door.  Before she left, she spun around and took one last look around his room.  ‘Yes,’ she concluded, ‘This is exactly how I imagined it.’

She shifted her clothes under her arms as she descended the stairs.  When she entered the parlor, she realized that Gilbert’s back was toward her as he stoked the fire.  “Thank you.”

At the sound of her voice, Gilbert stood up and turned around.  He opened his mouth to speak, but instead, could only take in Anne’s appearance.  He had thought her beautiful since the day he first saw her, but there was something about the way she looked in that moment—clad in his own clothes, no less—that nearly took his breath away.  It was the first moment he allowed himself any amount of time to process the fact that they were sharing the same space for the first time since that frantic day in Charlottetown.  He had imagined their reunion going a hundred different ways, but never once had he conjured this up.  

He cleared his throat as he forced himself to look down at the clothes in her arms.  “I can go…hang those up.”

Anne took one look at her clothes before she shook her head.  “No, no…I can do it.”

“Oh, ok.  Well, I’m making some tea, so maybe I should go…see if that’s…if that’s ready.”

Anne watched him curiously as he practically stumbled toward the kitchen.  It was equal parts amusing and endearing to see Gilbert Blythe quite literally falling over himself.  She smirked as her gaze fell back to her clothes.  She could get used to seeing him like that.

What she wouldn’t be getting used to any time soon would be Gilbert Blythe seeing her undergarments.  She inwardly groaned as she began to hang up her clothes.  There was no way around it.  She needed to dry her clothes and the quickest way to do that was to hang them by the fire.  She tried to hide her corset underneath her dress the best way she could.  She wasn’t sure if they were courting, but even if they were, she was certain that he most certainly wasn’t permitted to see her corset, even if she wasn’t wearing it.

Her cheeks reddened at the thought.

Just as she sat her shoes in front of the fireplace, she heard him re-enter the room.  She brushed a loose tendril away from her eyes before she took the offered teacup in his hands.

He silently gestured toward the couch, but once Anne sat down, instead of sitting next to her, Gilbert sat on the chair in the corner of the room.

Anne tried to mask her disappointment.  Maybe he wasn’t that excited to see her after all?  She furrowed her eyebrows as her mind immediately jumped to several different conclusions.  Maybe she had over-romanticized what happened between them four months ago?  After all, he failed to mention it in any of his letters.

And now she was sitting in in the same room with him—alone—and in his clothes.

Unable to handle her spiraling train of thought for another moment, she looked down at her teacup.  “So, why didn’t you tell me that you were going to come back for Christmas?”

He chuckled before he took a sip of his tea.  “So, how did you end up in the middle of the pond?”

Anne cringed.  She should have known that was coming.  Some things never changed.  He always found a way to see her at her absolute worst.  At the same time, she knew that he was well aware of who she was and the fact that catastrophe seemed to follow her in spades.  “A few years ago, Diana, Ruby, Jane, and I were going to re-enact Elaine’s final voyage from ‘Lancelot and Elaine’, but just before we could, Mrs. Barry came out and…we weren’t able to.”  She paused to take a sip of her tea.  “Matthew and Marilla were in Carmody, I knew the Barry’s were out of town and with Bash and Delly being gone, I was…bored.  I remembered that I never got to act it out and when I saw that the pond wasn’t frozen over, I decided that…it was now or never.”  She turned her attention to the fire in front of her.  “There must have been a hole at the bottom.”

“And…it sunk.”

She nodded.  “And while Matthew tried to teach me how to swim…once…I’m afraid I’m not very good at it.”

“You can’t expect to be an expert at something after one lesson.”

She chuckled.  “Well, you know me…”

He nodded with a smirk before his smile completely melted into a look of concern.  “Anne, you could have died out there.  If I hadn’t—”

“I know,” she calmly interrupted as she stared at her teacup.  She didn’t want to think about what would have happened had he not been there.  “Thank you…for…for saving me.  I had already accepted my fate and…wait.”  She furrowed her eyebrows as she looked up at him.  “Why were you there?”

“Well, I was…on my way to Green Gables, actually,” was his sheepish reply.

There it was again.  That sheepish little smile that immediately sent a thrill down her spine.  “I thought you were going to stay in Toronto until the term was over?”

He sighed before he sat his cup down on the end table next to the chair.  “That was the plan, initially, but I…” he trailed off.

Anne swallowed as she sat her cup down on the table in front of her.  Was this it?  Did he come all this way to let her down, to insist that what happened that beautiful day in Charlottetown was merely a flight of fancy and nothing more?  “You…” she trailed on in an attempt to prompt his response.

“Thanks to the Barry’s, we had a…fruitful harvest.  I was able to use some of the extra money to come back for a few weeks before the spring term begins.”

“That’s great.  I mean…I’m sure you missed Bash and Delly.”

He slowly nodded.  “But…they weren’t the only ones.”  He cut his eyes up to her to gauge her reaction.  Four months.  Four long months without her.  God.  How did he ever make it a year?

Anne didn’t need for him to elaborate.  The look in his eyes said it all and she was fairly certain that it mirrored that of her own.  She, the girl who not a year earlier swore that her destiny was to be the bride of adventure, now saw a completely different future unfolding before her very eyes.  Still, he had never been so open with his emotions in any of his letters.  She cleared her throat.  “Oh?”

Propriety be damned, he couldn’t take it anymore.  He stood up only to move to the couch and sit next to her.  He hesitated for a brief moment before he placed his left hand over both of hers, which were neatly folded in her lap.  “You have no idea how much I missed you.”

Anne looked down at their joined hands before she looked back up at him.  “Why didn’t you tell me?  I kept…I kept hoping you would, but after a while, I just assumed that we were…that it…that we…weren’t.”

“I had hoped you would, especially after the letter I left in your room…when you didn’t mention it, I thought—”

“What letter?”

“The day before harvest.  I stopped by Green Gables, but no one was there, so I…I wrote you a letter. You told me that you got the pen back so I—”

Anne grimaced.  “Oh.  Well, I…I didn’t read the letter.”

Gilbert took a deep breath.  Months.  He had spent months worrying about what he had said, if it had been too much too soon, if he scared her away.  He well remembered what Diana told him that day on the train, but he had yet to hear it from Anne.  What if Diana had been wrong this entire time?  What if she didn’t reciprocate the feelings he had for her?  Now, to find out that she never read the letter in the first place?  It was a lot to take in at once.  “Why,” was the only word he was able to utter.

It was Anne’s turn to grow sheepish as she glanced back at the fire.  “I…um…I thought you had written it to tell me about your engagement to Winifred and I…I got mad because I thought…I figured with news that big that you would have…told me yourself instead of writing…a letter.”  She watched the flames dance along the log and wondered what the contents held.  “After I tore it up, I threw it out the window.  Then…my curiosity got the better of me and I…I tried to find the pieces.  From what I could find and piece back together, I assumed that you…that you two were…and then I bumped into Winifred the day you…and she told me what happened.”

He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised.  He had been on the receiving end of Anne’s temper on more than one occasion, but never, in all of the days when he tried to rationalize the reason why she never responded, had he imagined that she never read it.  “Oh.”

“But…I’m willing to listen if you…if you remember what it said.”

He looked up at her.  When he wrote it, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever see her again.  Now, it was four months later, and there they were.  He didn’t want to scare her, especially because he wasn’t certain how she felt.  Besides, it’d be years before he could ever offer her anything.  He shook his head as a playful smirk crossed his features.  “That’ll teach you to rip up my letters.”

Anne’s eyes widened.  “Gilbert Blythe!  I wasn’t the only one who failed to receive a letter.  I wrote you one as well.”

“That I never received,” he argued.  “You had mine in your hands.”  He waited a beat.  Even though he knew more about her letter than she knew about his, he still wanted to hear it from her.  “What did yours say?”

She wasn’t sure what Diana told him.  Her bosom friend remained tight-lipped about the conversation she had with Gilbert that day, but still, she didn’t want to go back to Queen’s not knowing where she stood with Gilbert Blythe and given the number of people they would see over the coming weeks, she figured this would be their only opportunity to speak so freely.  “I…I apologized.”

He furrowed his eyebrows.  “For what?”

“For…for being confused…that night at the ruins.  I was just…shocked and…drunk and I couldn’t…think and then the girls pulled me away and I—”

“It’s ok,” he assured her.  “My timing wasn’t the best.”

“Mine neither,” she admitted.  

“Anything else,” he asked hopefully.

She looked into his eyes for a long moment.  She could feel her palms clam up and knew that everything hinged upon his reaction to her next words.  “I said that I wasn’t confused anymore and that…that I love you.”

Even though they had kissed, had admitted that they had feelings for one another, had written to one another every other day since their separation, the joy he felt at hearing her say the actual words was indescribable.  

Still, she wrote that letter months ago.  So much could have changed between then and now.  “And…and now?”

Anne searched his eyes for only a moment before she spoke.  “I’m still in love with you.  More than when I wrote that—” Her words were abruptly cut off as he pressed his lips against hers.  

How many times had she thought about this very moment over the last four months?  How long had she fretted that it wouldn’t be the same, that the memory couldn’t possibly hold up to reality, but now, after having had a very real brush with death, Anne knew that it was her memory that had completely failed her.  This was so much more than she could possibly remember.  The way she felt, the surge of electricity that soared through her veins.  She could feel herself flush under the intensity.

But still—

As sweet as it felt, and even though it spoke volumes, she needed to hear it.  She needed to know.  So, she slowly pulled away from him and opened her eyes.  She waited until he opened his before she looked down at her hands.  “W-What about you?”

He gave her a small smile as he tucked a wisp of her hair behind her ear.  “It’s always been you, Anne…my Anne with an E.”

[starblazerm31]

Apprentice April Asks #1 Azalea/Imalia

Here are my answers to my Apprentice April Asks #1.  Thanks so very much to @leis-main-blog​ and @verysoftthings​ for sending me asks!  I honestly wasn’t expecting it.  ^^;  I tend to write books about these two, so I made a separate post.

1. The Basics.  What is your character's name?  How old are they?  How tall are they?  Skin color?  Eye color?  Hair color?  Gender identification?

Azalea Larinya Nevra.  30, female. 5'6"; medium skin tone; eyes blue with gold around the pupils; hair aqua to coral ombre; medium length

Imalia Vilyana Gabriev. 36, female. 5'10"; fair skin tone; eyes crimson; hair brown with burgundy ends; very long (art by @carowhitewolf​)

2.  Love Interest.  Who does your character love?  What attracted them to that particular LI?

Julian/Lucio (different universes).  

Julian - she loved how kind he was, and she adored his bumbling.  She was compelled to help him because his cause was right.  He couldn't be guilty, he was too much of a good man.  She really wanted to help him with his own inner demons as well because he didn't deserve to suffer, even at his own hand.  That glorious chest didn't help either, lol.

Lucio - she thought he was overall adorable.  Yeah, he was hot as hell, but it was his personality that got her heart thumping.  He really was brave and skilled, and she had a feeling that not many others had appreciated it much.  Yeah, he had done some horrendous things; but Azalea could see the actual changes happening in him and she knew that he had hope.

Asra.  She had known Asra since she was 15 and he was 8.  They had a good 20 year friendship and she knew him very well.  She fell for him when that friendship veil lifted after the events of The Arcana story and she finally really noticed how beautiful he was.  "He's smart, kind, talented, awesome...AND hot?!  THE WHOLE PACKAGE?!  I'm such an idiot..." 

3. Familiar.  Does your character have a familiar?  How did they meet?

Corva, a white raven.  She met Corva when Malak led her to an alley where Corva was lying on the ground with a broken wing.  Azalea nursed Corva back to health, and Corva refused to ever leave. (image c. Mike Yip)

Balthazaar, a phoenix.  Balthazaar was one of the phoenixes in the magical menagerie at the University of Prakra.  He was ornery, and the handlers had a hard time with him.  Imalia liked how stubborn he was and over time developed a rapport and closeness with him.  The university allowed her to claim him as her familiar and take him home. (image c. Kiss Clip Art)

4. Hobbies.  What kinds of things does your character like to do for fun?

Parquor.  She loves running around, slipping up buildings, jumping over rooftops and sliding down poles.  XD  She's a very high-energy person and parquor keeps her healthy and mentally sharp.  She also enjoys writing.  She will write on just about anything that has her attention at the moment.  Magical theory is one of her favorite subjects, but she does enjoy writing fiction.

Her hobby...is harassing bandits.  She gets perverse joy out of robbing robbers blind.  If she can find the original owners of things that were stolen...awesome.  If not...hey, this is an ancient Drakrian fertility statue!  I'm gonna put this on my shelf at home.  Oh, and leaving off-color messages in ancient languages in ruins.  "Here I sit all broken-hearted..."

5. Hidden talents.  Is there something neat that your character can do?  Tie a cherry stem into a knot with their tongue?  Say any word backwards perfectly?

Azalea is kinda like Sherlock Holmes.  She can look at a person and form their entire story in her mind.  She never uses it against someone; she just uses it to be more friendly.  But if you're annoying her and won't go away...she will scare you with what she has figured out about you.

Imalia secretly loves to sing and isn't terrible at it.  She's one of those people who will sing in the bath, and if someone mentions it, she acts like it didn't happen.

6. Magical talents.  Is there a specific type of magic that your character excels at?  Any magic they aren't so great at?  Or do they actually shy away from magic altogether?

Lightning.  She's good at conducting the currents and utilizing its explosive capabilities.  She also uses lightning as a personal shield while in battle.  She is also really good at enchanting things; like her hair.  She makes enchanted dreamcatchers that actually catch nightmares.  Both Julian and Lucio appreciate this ability.  (Lucio's dreamcatcher needs to be cleansed more often than Julian's)

Fire and Darkness.  Imalia is in tune with fire and is extremely good at using it to its fullest potential; absolute destruction.  As for the darkness...that will be explained in number 12.

7. Interaction.  How does your character typically interact with people?

She is very polite, but not overly so.  She tries to come off as someone you can actually have a conversation with.  Sometimes if she's feeling nervous, she will go into overly-polite mode, but if the vibe starts to feel calmer, she will loosen up.  She is very energetic and sometimes hyper with her friends.

She is ingratiating and very proper until you piss her off.  Then you get things like "Why don't you get a horse, move up to the mountains, and don't bother anybody?  You have the personality of a dead moth." (RIP Don Rickles)  With friends, she's very laid back and frank with what she says.

8. Romance.  What is something that your character and their LI love to do together?  How do they show affection?

Azalea x Julian - They LOVE to read together.  They have spent hours cuddled up together over a good book.  Azalea shows Julian affection with gentle touches, kisses, and koala hugs.  (she really loves how tall he is)  She also makes sure he eats and gets plenty of rest.  More than once, she has brought him dinner to his clinic while he was working late.

Azalea x Lucio - They love to spar.  They are so different in fighting style that sparring really helps them improve their skills.  Also, the prize at the end for the winner is quite nice.  ^_~  Azalea shows Lucio affection by listening to him and holding him.  She also likes to try to out kiss him.  He reaches for her hand, she spins away and plants two on his cheek instead.

Imalia and Asra love to travel the Magical Realms together.  They get into really long and in-depth conversations about the things they see and experiment with how their willpower affects the realm around them.  Imalia shows affection by constant words of praise and sneaky touches and kisses.  The more she can surprise him, the better.  She also keeps a hefty supply of Lapsang Souchong tea at her estate for him and loves giving him little trinkets and things she has found on her travels.

9. Travel.  Does your character like to travel outside of Vesuvia?  How often?  For how long?  What kinds of things do they do away from home?

Yes.  She loves to see more of the world and meet new people and see different cultures.  She will travel maybe once every year or two.  When traveling, she will typically stay away for 1-2 months.  She loves adventure, but she does love her home more.  Azalea loves to learn new types of magic or new methods of spellcasting from different cultures.  She finds that certain techniques make her own magic stronger.

Definitely.  She herself is originally from the northern hemisphere, so travel isn't something new to her.  She gets wanderlust sometimes and has to get out into the world.  She will be gone typically for six months when she decides to travel.  She has been gone for three years before.  She HAS to investigate old ruins wherever she goes.  Who knows that treasures or knowledge lay inside?  She must find out!

10. WTF.  Has anything just...weird ever happened to your character?  Something that made them stop and go "What just happened?!"

She was trying to brew a potion that would allow the drinker to become a mermaid for a short while.  She ended up spilling it on a plant before it was done.  The plant sprouted tiny muscular hairy legs and arms, stood up, walked to the window, shook its fist at her, and jumped out.  Turns out she had forgotten a key ingredient in the early stages of brewing the potion.  Mazelinka made fun of her for a solid week.

One time, she and a rival mage were about to have a battle.  Right before they were to begin, this strange fellow wearing a sentient red cape fell from the sky and landed in between them.  He promptly stood to his feet, apologized for the intrusion, and left.  (Yes...I do mean Doctor Strange fell from the sky)

11. Crime.  Has your character ever been arrested?  If so, what did they do?  Have they ever helped stop a crime?

She has never been arrested, however, she is guilty of petty larceny.  It's not something she does often...just when some jerk needs to be taught a lesson.  They always get their stuff back, but she will make sure they are thoroughly inconvenienced.  She has stopped another thief before.  The thief took the purse of an elderly individual who was trying to buy food.  Azalea scaled up to the rooftops and cut the thief off, holding him down until the guards caught up and arrested him.  She gave the money back to its owner.

Yep.  She's been arrested plenty of times.  Usually for assault and/or destruction of property.  Hey, that jerk deserved to have his carriage set on fire.  She has stopped several assassination attempts on her cousin, Queen Dreen Suval of Seiruun.  She has also stopped dark plots at the Magical University in Prakra.

12. Secrets.  What is a secret your character has?  Are they in line for the throne in a far off land?  Was there this one time at band camp...?  Are they secretly involved in an assassin's guild?

Azalea secretly writes smut.  She loves it.  And her actual hair color is gray.  The aqua-coral is an enchantment.

Imalia actually is in line for the throne of Seiruun; second in line, to be exact.  But she HATES this.  It's why she continues to live in Vesuvia rather than her home country.  Imalia is also no longer entirely human.  During an adventure that went terribly wrong, she summoned the Lord of Nightmares while inside the Magical Realms.  (The Lord of Nightmares or "Lon" is an eldritch goddess) Lon then proceeded to implant herself inside Imalia.  Lon is a being of pure darkness and nightmare, so Imalia has control over darkness when she taps into Lon's power. Through some creative wording, the contract between the two of them allows Imalia to use Lon's power and form when she needs to; however, Imalia is forever plagued by terrible nightmares that not even Azalea's dreamcatchers can stop.  The dreamcatchers just catch on fire.

13. Overcompensation.  Is there something that your character just HAS to do better than anyone else?  Or are they just that dang good without trying?  If they see someone else showing off, what is their kneejerk reaction?

She's actually quite humble.  If she sees someone showing off, she really just concerns herself with their safety.  "Please don't be careless and die, please!"  But she IS gifted.  Her magic is insanely strong, she just doesn't like to make a big deal out of it.  She gets embarrassed.

She is the best in the room, and you'd better damn well know it.  Unless she respects you.  Then she will tone it down.  But if she sees a showoff...she's got to mess with them.  She's got to show them that they aren't all that and a bag of chips.

14. Fight Club.  Is your character a good fighter?  What kind of skills do they have?

She's pretty decent.  Her attack magic is awesome, but her physical fighting mainly relies on how quick and squirmy she is.  Her punches hurt, but they don't incapacitate.

She can fight pretty damn well.  Her father made sure of it after most of her family was killed by assassins (it does sometimes really suck to be royalty).  She is a heavy hitter and her intent is to end a fight with one strike.  It doesn't always work, but hey...second, third, maybe fourth time is the charm.  Or maybe you should just blow it the hell up.

15. The Arts.  Is your character a creative type?  What kinds of things can they create?  Can they act?  Street perform?

She is.  Like mentioned earlier, she writes and makes dreamcatchers; she also gets into stage acting with Julian (when he's her LI).  She's not a solo performer though.  She has to be in a troupe or else she gets massive stage fright.

She can draw very well, almost photo-realistically.  She mainly uses this skill for documentation when she's studying something.  But every great once in a while she will draw a political cartoon making fun of some noble.  Once she drew a penis on the face of one of Lucio's statues.  He snapped back "I'd never put something that small in my mouth!"  She retorted by drawing a full body penis on a different statue.  It got misinterpreted by many townspeople as "Hey, look!  Lucio is a dick!!"

16. Goofy.  Is your character a clown?  Do they like to make people laugh?

She does.  She doesn't see herself as funny, but when she slips in something humorous into whatever she's talking about it usually takes whoever is listening by surprise.  Spit your drink kind of humor.

YES.  She has such a strange way of speaking sometimes that you can't help but snort at the things she says.  Yes, it is entirely on purpose.  She loves to crack jokes and has a self-deprecating sense of humor at times.  She will also be hilariously over-confident as well.

17. Language.  Is your character multilingual?  How many languages do they speak?  Do they have an accent?  Is it sexy?  Is it silly?  Do they have the multilingual lisp?

No.  She only speaks her native language.

Yes.  Imalia speaks ten different languages.  In her normal language, she doesn't have a multilingual lisp; but in about four of her other languages, she does.  It drives her nuts, but she just can't seem to fix it.

18. Embarrassment.  What is something really embarrassing that your character has done/said?

Azalea can't remember this, because it's part of the memories she lost.  But Imalia remembers.  One time she was going to meet one of the magisters of the Magical University of Prakra to see if she would be accepted.  She spent weeks preparing how to introduce herself.  On the day of, she mentioned how excited she was to meet Magister Asshole.  Imalia blinked and said, "It's pronounced Ah-shole."

One time she said something quite rude about Lucio in front of Azalea (when Lucio is Azalea's LI).  Azalea proceeded to tear her a new rectum, claiming that for someone so smart, she was incredibly closed-minded.

19. Memory.  Has your character gotten any of their memory back?  If so, what?  Did it change them?

No.  She insists that she doesn't want her memories back because she likes who she is now.  She gets the important information from Asra and Imalia...her parents’ and aunt's names, what they were like, and how they died.  That's all she feels that she needs. 

*looks at me*  "I'm exempt from this question.  I'm your OC, not your MC."  *walks out*

20. Family.  Talk about your character's family.  Who were they?

Her mother (Etoile) and father (Galen) were traveling merchants.  Her mother was the one with magical talent.  Her mother's sister (Sylvaine) owned the shop and taught Azalea most about magic.  When Azalea was 13, her parents were robbed and killed by bandits just outside of Vesuvia.  She lived with Sylvaine until she died of pneumonia when Azalea was 20.

Imalia's father was Vitalric Gabriev and her mother was Narsial Trevallan.  When Imalia was 14, her father's family (the Sairuun royal family) were murdered by assassins sent by a rival country.  Only Vitalric (and Narsial), Imalia, Vitalric's older brother Rhemun and his daughter Dreen survived.  Rhemun and Dreen remained in Seiruun to run the place while Vitalric and his family moved to Vesuvia as a failsafe in case there were other assassination attempts.  Vitalric started studying to become a doctor, while Narsial started grooming Imalia to wed into a noble family.  Narsial was extremely abusive.  Long story short, King Rhemun died of a hunting injury, and both of Imalia's parents died in the Red Plague.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “John Wick” Part 3

Y/N left The Organization 3 years ago for the one reason strong enough to make her settle down: love. But after tragedy crushed her to pieces, she decided to leave The Joker and seek refuge with an old friend and mentor - John Wick. Needless to say The King of Gotham can’t accept his wife running away without a word, especially since he didn’t have a chance to tell her things she might want to hear.

Part 1     Part 2

The Joker listens at the bedroom’s door, impatient to have a conversation with you. It seems you are engaged into a fervent phone call with Winston and figured he shouldn’t interrupt.

“Please, anything you can discover would be a great help! U-hum… U-hum… Thank you,” and you hang up, which queues your husband to walk into the room.

You completely ignore him, scrolling through the numerous text messages you sent to your connections; several are already answering back and hopefully you can get some news soon. The more people are involved into the project, the more chances to find Kase and untangle the mystery of what happened to him after he was removed from the car.

“You left me there,” The Joker sneaks in and closes the door behind him. “Luckily we had Wick with us so he gave me a ride.”

No reaction. He takes a deep breath, trying to get your awareness.

“I didn’t sleep with Evelyn; sex wasn’t the reason why I kept visiting her. I know how that asshole made it sound and he was totally out of line!”

You quickly glance at him, busy replying to Ares since you feel you’re going to explode soon.

“The only skill I was interested in is the fact that she is an excellent painter and a popular art smuggler, OK?” J raises his voice, sort of annoyed you neglect to participate into his monologue. “I did not cheat, alright?” he approaches his wife. “First of all: I’m VERY picky! Second of all: why would I want a woman everyone else had?! I don’t like used toys. Third: nobody’s been polishing my gun as you tastefully addressed the issue! I have one Queen and I married her!!”

A little bit of doubt in your eyes and he utilizes the opportunity.

“You said you saw me going to her house? I did! The Bowery King asked if it was for the last 6 months? Yeah, I did! You know why?!”

At least now The Joker got your attention: you play it cool but he guesses you’re torn apart by his confession.

Many unfortunate events crammed in lately and hating the man you love made life infinitely more unbearable.

“Why…?” you barely muster the strength to inquire and he sees it as a possibility to mend a few broken pieces; although you can hide your emotions well, J can still read between the lines.

Maybe that’s why he answers with another question:

“Do you realize there are just three Monet paintings in circulation on the black market in the entire world? You admire his work and it took a lot of effort and a substantial fortune to acquire The Water Lily Pond painting. Evelyn Black helped with the transaction, then I had her make some modifications to the original masterpiece.”

You keep staring at The King of Gotham, uncertain about the stuff being tossed your way: is he lying or telling the truth?... In your line of work translating feelings is a huge part of the job; ultimately you had the best mentor to teach you the ropes when you started with the organization: none other than the legendary Baba Yaga. Despite his reputation and to your own amazement, John was one of the few hitmen with integrity and perfectly mastered the aptitude of not being a jerk. Such a rare gem… And blissfully unaware of it himself.

On the opposite end, The Joker is a jerk and flawlessly acquainted with his own “captivating” personality that made you fall in love with him anyway.

Also, doesn’t appear to be deceitful for the moment.

And you despise yourself even more for wanting to believe him.

“What… modifications?...” you throw him a bone and J is definitely not going to pass on the alternative of explaining his actions.

“I wanted to surprise you so I took advantage of Miss Black’s capabilities in the art field; I had her add small images to the authentic canvas: an evolution of you being pregnant, the nine frames culminating with a tenth: the new mother holding our son. Similar to a timeline,” he emphasize and you look intrigued, which might be a positive sign. “Needless to say it was tedious, difficult work, especially because she had to apply special pigments you can’t find at every corner of the street. Apparently you can’t mix old paint with contemporary shades, thus I had to order aged, special colors from Italy, Spain and France. That’s why I went to her place so often: I had to supervise the long process and make sure it turns out astonishing. Then…” and The Joker pauses,”…Kase was gone and I didn’t know what to do with my gift: bring it home or not? Would you have loved it? Would it make you sadder? I continued to drive to Evelyn’s and glare at the stupid painting for hours, undecided on what to do…”

J watches you bite on your cheek, then straightens his shoulders as you utter the words:

“… … … You ruined a genuine Monet?”

Your spouse might be a smooth talker when needed, yet he’s not wasting his versatility on this statement:

“I didn’t ruin it; I made it better!”

Silence from both parties. A good or bad omen? Hard to decipher the riddle with two individuals tangled into a relationship that somehow worked despite countless peculiarities meant to keep them apart.

“I have to talk to Jonathan,” you finally mutter and The Joker steps in front of you.

“Talk to me!”

“Unless you know the exact location of the suitcase full of gold coins he’s been safekeeping for me, I really have to speak to him. Or do you want to hammer the whole basement searching for it?”

Y/N walks out of the bedroom and J lingers inside, evesdropping on the conversation happening downstairs. He can’t understand the chat, but you are probably notifying John about the details your husband left out.

Might as well join the party, therefore The Clown pops up in the living room with a plea impossible to refuse:

“Hey Wick, can I stay here? I don’t care if you say no, I’m not going to leave.”

Your friend crosses his arms on his chest, focusing on the random topic:

“How could I deny such a polite request? Of course you can stay Mister Joker; my house is your house.”

You’re watching the free show unamused; usually it would make you smile…now you lack the depth for such connotations.

“Don’t get smart with me, Wick!” J growls and Jonathan pushes for a tiny, unnecessary quarrel.

“I’m not; although generally speaking, I fancy considering myself a smart guy.”

The Joker opens his mouth and you’re not in the mood for whatever the heck they’re initiating:

“I’m going to pump, then after you dig out the suitcase I’ll take half to the Bowery King,” you announce your plans to them.

“You can do that and rest; I’ll deliver the coins,” John immediately offers. “I can stop by Aurelio’s car shop and ask for his collaboration: he has a lot of associates, doesn’t hurt to get him involved. You have plenty of gold.”

“I have two more suitcases in the Continental’s safe and two more at The Penthouse. It doesn’t matter if it’s all gone as long as I can find my son.”

“I know gold coins are preferred; don’t forget we have a lot of money too,” J reckons with spite.

Is he reminding you or Jonathan?...

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

Your husband spent the last hour in the garden, talking and texting with a lot of people; needless to mention he’s capitalizing on his network also. Winston disclosed Stonneberg’s contract is still opened, meaning the son of a bitch is out there; you have to scoop him before anybody else does.

“Y/N…” The Joker tiptoes in your quarters. “I thought you were taking a nap,” he huffs when he sees you at the edge of the bed.

You glare at the vial on the nightstand, sharing your idea for a future you wish will come true:

“I didn’t have my medicine in two days; I won’t take it anymore because if we get Kase back… I will nurse him. It all goes in the milk and I want to be able to feed my baby… Do you think his little heart is still beating?...” you sniffle and J is currently debating on a clever response since his mind is blank; one could deduce messing up is encoded in his DNA, but on such a huge scale… well, it gives new interpretations to the term even for him.

The grieving woman seeking reassurance for their loss is trying to make sense of the pointless occurrences that lead to Kase being an innocent victim and The Joker can’t render clarification: he has no clue why he asked her to marry him and why she said yes, it’s not that he’s husband material or a family man. Perhaps Y/N thought he could be… just enough to get by, that’s why she accepted his proposal.

Most women would have cringed at the concept. Most women. Not Y/N.

Most women would have flinched at the notion of having his baby. Most women. Not his wife.

Above all, she trusted J with their son and he treated the three weeks old like a trinket: didn’t drive him home because he had an important meeting, didn’t bother to assign escorting cars nor extra security. The King of Gotham took his child’s safety lightly and it definitely had severe consequences. Too late now to fix past mistakes... but he can attempt.

“You’ll be able to nurse him, OK?” he sits by you and hands over his cell. “Can you enter your phone number in here? Or am I not allowed to have the present digits?”

You’re hesitant and he slides the screen while you hold the gadget.

“Lemme help you,” The Joker sarcastically mumbles. “It should be the first on my list, right where the old number you canceled was.”

You exhale and fulfill his demand out of pure frustration when he squeezes in a second innocent petition.

“Chose my avatar.”

You grunt at his rubbish, scrolling through his folders for a picture anyway; J hopes the largest file will get your attention and that’s the point. How could Y/N miss it?!

Entitled “Baby”, the humongous cluster of pics contains 5,723 items. You open it quite absorbed by its size; what’s more puzzling is the collection depicting Kase’s ultrasounds, hundreds of frames with you being pregnant taken without you knowing: there’s a few when your ankles were so swollen you had to sleep with your feet up on 4 pillows, others with you munching on strange food you craved, more with you in the shower focused on your bump, a decent amount of couple selfies when you were sleeping and J had to immortalize the moment without waking you up and approximately 1,500 images of the newborn.

“You didn’t gross me out when you were pregnant,” The Joker reminds a teary Y/N. “Not sure why you would believe such aberration...” he pulls you on his knees and yanks the phone away, tossing it on the nightstand. “I would also like to underline I didn’t have an affair with Miss Black, alright?”

J lifts your chin up, forcing to look at him.

“Let’s put it this way: why would I fuck around with another woman when I have a wife at home that wants to kill me on a regular basis, hm? Where would the fun be? I mean, she didn’t pull the trigger yet but it’s exciting to hope she might. You know me: I’m a sucker for thrills!”

“Do I?”

“Huh?” J steals a kiss and you frown at his sleekness.

“Know you?”

“Yeah,” the green haired Clown acts composed while in fact his feathers are ruffled. Before you catch onto it he has to ultimately admit: “I’m sorry I didn’t drive the car… I should have…”

The Joker holds in his breath when your arms go around his neck very tight.

“I’m suffocating…” he grumbles. “I can’t tell if you’re trying to hug me or choke me to death,” J keeps on caressing your hair, prepared to block your attack in case you’re actually in killing mode.

This is the excitement he was speaking about: with you, one could never know until it’s a done deal.

“I bumped into Magnus at the Continental,” you give him a bit of space to inhale much needed air and The Joker is surprised at your revelation. “I had no idea about his scheme, otherwise I would have skinned him alive right on the hotel grounds! I wouldn’t have cared about the consequences!”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” J cuts you off and he can tell you’re getting mad; maybe you think he doesn’t give a damn but the reason is simple. “You would’ve been declared excommunicado for murder on neutral ground and I don’t want my wife to be the target of such punishment from the company she so proudly retired from. I need my partner!”

The King of Gotham touches your forehead with his as you whisper:

“I hate you!”

“Mmm, regarding this true love affirmation, I’m gonna need you to take a break from detesting me until we have Kase, then you can despise me full throttle again. Deal?” he extends the palm of his hand and you reluctantly shake it, not realizing you’re reacting to his nonsense. “Is that a smile?” J returns the favor with one of his creepy silver grins.

“No.”

“Liar,” he pecks your lips and can’t explain the weird feeling in his heart when you kiss him back.

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

Jonathan enters the house and becomes suspicious after a few minutes: too much silence.

Omg! Did you and The Joker engaged into a brawling that ended up badly? Did you end each other?!

John frantically runs to the garage, nervous to see your car and J’s are still parked inside. Shit!

“Y/N?” he shouts, concerned about your fate; The Joker’s… irrelevant. Nobody in the garden, patio is empty also. Downstairs is deserted thus he rushes upstairs to your room. The door is not completely shut and he slowly pushes it, knocking.

“Y/N? Can I come in?”

The first thing he notices are clothes scattered on the floor, then he halts his movement at the sight of Y/N and her husband dozing off on the bed sideways: the naked bodies are covered with a blanket, but he can tell you’re snuggled in J’s arms.

Jonathan steps backwards, guilty of invading his guests’ privacy; he certainly didn’t expect to intrude in such a manner and softly closes the door, grateful it’s not what he feared.  

You and The Joker are so worn out the sound of your phones vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t wake you from the deep sleep. Your numerous contacts keep replying back to the text messages, the most important one showing up on his cell: one of the people J reached to is Evelyn Black and the two sentence conversation lights up the screen.

“Let me know if you see Stonnenberg.”

“He’s here.”

 Also read: MASTERLIST

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